ss Leicester talked about the founders and pioneers of the earliest
Tideshead farms, there was not a boy nor girl who did not have a sense
of pride in belonging to so valiant an old town. They could plan a dozen
expeditions to places of historic interest. There had been even witches
in Tideshead, and soldiers and scholars to find out about and remember.
There was no better way of learning American history (as Miss Leicester
said) than to study thoroughly the history of a single New England
village. As for newer towns in the West, they were all children of some
earlier settlements, and nobody could tell how far back a little careful
study would lead.

There was time for a good game of tennis after the stories were told,
and the play was watched with great excitement, but some of the club
girls strayed about the old house, part of which had been a
garrison-house. The doors stood open, and the sunshine fell pleasantly
across the floors of the old rooms. Usually they meant to go picnicking,
but to-day the Picknells had asked their friends to tea, and a delicious
country supper it was. Then they all sang, and Mary Beck's clear voice,
as usual, led all the rest. It was seven o'clock before the party was
over. The evening was cooler than August evenings usually are, and after
many leave-takings the club set off afoot toward the town.

"What a good time!" said Betty to the Grants and Aunt Barbara, for she
had claimed one Grant and let Aunt Barbara walk with the other; and
everybody said "What a good time!" at least twice, as they walked down
the lane to the road. There they stopped for a minute to sing another
verse of "Good-night, ladies," and indeed went away singing along the
road, until at last the steepness of the hill made them quiet. The
Picknells, in their doorway, listened as long as they could.

At the top of the long hill the club stopped for a minute, and kept very
still to hear the hermit-thrushes singing, and did not notice at first
that three persons were coming toward them, a tall man and a boy and
girl. Suddenly Betty's heart gave a great beat. The taller figure was
swinging a stick to and fro, in a way that she knew well; the boy was
Harry Foster, and the girl was Nelly. Surely--but the other? Oh, _yes_,
it was papa! "Oh, _papa_!" and Betty gave a strange little laugh and
flew before the rest of the club, who were still walking slowly and
sedately, and threw herself into her father's arms. Then Miss Leicester