for though he
seems to have energy, many a boy with an unusual gift gets stranded in a
small town like this, and becomes less useful in the end than if he were
like everybody else."

"I think it has been a great thing for him to be developed on the
every-day side, and to have care and even trouble," said Miss Leicester.
"Now I wish to see the exceptional side of him have a chance. I stand
ready to help at any point, you must remember."

"I can give him some work at once, with the understanding that he is to
study at Cambridge this winter. I have plans for next summer in which he
could be of great service. We will not say too much, but keep our own
counsel until we watch him a little longer."

Aunt Barbara nodded emphatically, but for her part she felt no doubt of
Harry Foster's power of keeping at his work; then she proposed another
subject of personal concern, and they talked a long time in the pleasant
old library, among the familiar books and pictures, until the fire had
given its last flicker and settled quietly down into a few red coals
among the gray ashes.

* * * * *

Every one was glad to know that Harry's collection of fishes and insects
and his scientific tastes had won great approval from a man of Mr.
Leicester's fame, and that the boy was to be forwarded in his studies as
fast as possible.

Who shall tell the wonder of the town over a phonograph which Mr.
Leicester brought with him? In fact, the last of the summer seemed
altogether the pleasantest, and papa and Betty had a rare holiday
together. Aunt Mary and Aunt Barbara, Serena and Letty, and Seth and
Jonathan were all in a whirl from morning until night. Serena thought
that the phonograph was an invention of the devil, and after hearing the
uncanny little machine repeat that very uncomplimentary remark which
she had just made about it, she was surer than before. Serena did not
relish being called an invention of the evil one, herself, but it does
not do to call names at a phonograph.

* * * * *

"It was lonely when I first came," said Betty, the evening before she
was to go away, as she walked to and fro between the box-borders with
her father, "but I like everybody better and better,--even poor Aunt
Mary," she added in a whisper. "It is lovely to live in Tideshead.
Sometimes one gets cross, though, and it is so provoking about the
left-out ones, and the won't-play ones, and the ones