river, then it took a sudden northward turn and there were not so many
white elder flowers by the way as there were junipers and young birches.
There were long reaches through the cool woods, and the road was always
rising to a higher part of the country, veritable up-country, among the
hills. From one high point where they stopped to let the horses rest a
minute there was a beautiful view of the low lands that lay toward the
sea, and the river which ran southward in shining lines. It would be
hard to say who most enjoyed the morning. The elder members of the party
seldom felt themselves free for a holiday, and Betty was always ready to
enjoy whatever came in her way; but there was a delicious novelty in
being asked to spend a day with Serena and Jonathan. They were hostess
and host, and Betty felt an unusual spirit of deference and gratitude
toward them; it seemed as if they were both quite conscious of a
different relationship toward Betty from that at home. It was wonderful
to see what cordial greetings most of the people gave them along the
road, and how many warm friends they seemed to possess. The farther
they went, the more struck by this was our Betty, who gave a little sigh
at some unworded thought about always being a newcomer and stranger. She
had begun to feel so recognized and at home in Tideshead that it was a
little hard now to find herself unknown again.

But Serena liked to tell her who every one was, and there was as much
friendly interest shown in Miss Betty Leicester as any heart could wish.

They had gone almost fourteen miles, and Betty was just nearing the end
of a long description of her experiences at the Queen's Jubilee, when
Jonathan said: "Now you can rec'lect just where you put the mark in. I
don't calc'late to lose none of it, but here we've got to stop top of
the hill an' see Seth's folks. You've got them papers an' things handy,
ain't you, Serena?"

Betty saw a yellow story-and-a-half house by the roadside with some
queer little sheds and outbuildings, and looked with great interest to
see if any one came to the window. "Seth's folks" meant nobody but his
mother, who lived alone as Betty knew, and there she was standing in
the door, a kind-faced, round-shouldered little creature, who had the
patient, half-apprehensive look of those women who live alone in lonely
places. She threw her big clean gingham apron over her head and came
forward just as Jonathan had got out of the wagon and Bett