hurried, too, and the rest of the club broke ranks, and felt for a
minute as if their peace of mind was troubled.

But Betty's papa was equal to this emergency. "This must be Becky, but
how grown!" he said to Mary Beck, holding out his hand cordially; "and
George Max, and the Grants, and--Frank Crane, is it? I used to play with
your father;" and so Mr. Leicester, pioneered by Betty, shook hands with
everybody and was made most welcome.

"You see that I know you all very well through Betty! So nobody believed
that I could come on the next train after my letter, and get here almost
as soon?" he said, holding Betty's hand tighter than ever, and looking
at her as if he wished to kiss her again. He did kiss her again, it
being his own Betty. They were very fond of each other, these two; but
some of their friends agreed with Aunt Barbara, who always said that her
nephew was much too young to have the responsibility of so tall a girl
as Betty Leicester.

Nobody noticed that Harry and Nelly Foster were there too, in the first
moment of excitement, and so the first awkwardness of taking up
every-day life again with their friends was passed over easily. As for
our Betty, she fairly danced along the road as they went homeward, and
could not bear to let go her hold of her father's hand. It was even more
dear and delightful than she had dreamed to have him back again.

XV.

THE STARLIGHT COMES IN.

THERE was a most joyful evening in the old Leicester house. Everybody
forgot to speak about Betty's going to bed, and even Aunt Mary was in
high spirits. It was wonderful how much good a little excitement did for
her, and Betty had learned that an effort to be entertaining always
brought the pleasant reward of saving Aunt Mary from a miserable,
tedious morning or afternoon. When she waked next morning, her first
thought was about papa, and her next that Aunt Mary was likely to have a
headache after sitting up so late. Betty herself was tired, and felt as
if it were the day after the fair; but when she hurried down to
breakfast she found Aunt Barbara alone, and was told that papa had risen
at four o'clock, and, as she expressed it to Aunt Mary a little later,
stolen his breakfast from Serena and gone down to Riverport on the
packet, the tide having served at that early hour.

"I heard a clacketing in the kitchen closet," said Serena, "and I just
got my skirt an' a cape on to me an' flew down to see what 't was. I
expected