We've had a new floor in the
dancing-pavilion built, and the directors ordered a foxy music machine
last night."

"Oh yes, I ought to be able to tell Peter all I know in two and a half
months," I answered, ignoring Tolly's disrespect for my poet friend.

"And a lot you don't know," Tolly added, with the candor of real
affection. "I wish Sam, the old calf, could be weaned from his cows and
take the position your dad is offering him at the Phosphate Works, so he
would be able to shake a foot occasionally. Can't you handle him a bit,
Betty? It's as if he just came out and looked at life and then dived
back in a hollow log."

"I--I don't know," I answered, doubtfully. A pang shot through me at the
thought of any one extracting Sam from that wonderful retreat in the
woods, but then also this news of the honors that were coming to Peter
made me long to have Samuel Foster Crittenden come forth and take his
place in the world beside his friends. Sam, I felt sure, was made to
shine, not to have his light hid under a farm basket. Why, even Tolly,
there beside me on the steps, was the head of the new Electric Light
Company that Hayesboro has had a little over a year. He did it all
himself, though he had failed to pass his college examinations when he
went up for them with Sam.

"I'm proud of the way you've been doing things, Tolly," I added, warmly,
putting my thoughts of Sam away where I keep them when I'm not using
them.

"Oh, I'm just an old money-grubber and nobody's genius child, but I'll
rustle the gold boys to get up to New York to see your play, Betty, and
send you a wagon-load of florist's spinnach on the first night,"
answered Tolly, beaming at my words of praise.

"Oh, Tolly, please don't think I'm going to write a play," I answered,
quickly. "I'm--well, I'm just going to tell Peter a whole lot of useful
things I find out about life. You see, Tolly, Peter's father has so many
millions of dollars that it has been almost impossible for Peter to
climb over them into real life as we have. I have to do it for him.
Please pity Peter, Tolly, and tell me what you think would be nice in
his play if you find anything."

"Well--er--well, I have right in stock at present a little love-interest
tale I could unfold to you, Betty, about--Help! There comes the gentle
child Edith up the street now. I must go. I am too coarse-grained for
association with her." And before I could stop him he was gone through
the house and out the