lars," said Miss Trinkett. "You may be
obliged to pay more than you think, and it's well to have a little on
hand in case of emergencies."

[Illustration: MISS TRINKETT TOOK AN AFFECTIONATE FAREWELL THE NEXT
DAY.]

The next day Miss Trinkett took an affectionate farewell from her nieces
and nephews, promising to send Jack the money by an early date.

"And a book on raising poultry that my father used to consult," she
added; "I always keep it on the table in the best parlor. I'll send it
by mail. It's wonderful what things can go through the post-office
nowadays. These are times to live in, I do declare, what with chicks
without a mother and everything else."

Aunt Betsey was true to her word. During the following week a package
arrived most lightly tied up, and addressed in an old-fashioned,
indefinite hand to "Jackie Franklin, Brenton, Mass." Within was an
ancient book which described the methods of raising poultry in the early
days of the century, and inside of the book were seventy-five dollars in
crisp new bank-notes.

It was a week or two after the installation of the incubator that Edith
was seized with what Cynthia called "one of her terribly tidy fits."

"I am going to do some house-cleaning," she announced one beautiful
Saturday morning, when Cynthia was hurrying through her Monday's lessons
in a wild desire to get to the river. "Cynthia, you must help me. We'll
clear out all the drawers and closets in the 'north room,' and give away
everything we don't need, and then have Martha clean the room."

"Oh no!" exclaimed Cynthia; "everything in this house is as neat as a
pin. And we haven't got anything we don't need, Edith. And I can't. I
_must_ go on the river."

"You can go afterwards. You can spend all the afternoon on the river.
This is a splendid chance for house-cleaning, with the children off for
the morning. Come along, Cynthia--there's a dear."

Cynthia slowly and mournfully followed Edith up the stairs. She might
have held out and gone on the river, but she knew Edith would do it
alone if she deserted her, and Cynthia was unselfish, much as she
detested house-cleaning.

"I am going to be very particular to-day," said Edith, as she wiped the
ornaments of the room with her dusting-cloth and laid them on the bed to
be covered, and took down some of the pictures.

"More particular than usual?"

"Yes, ever so much. I've been thinking about it a great deal. In all
probability I shall always keep