ut in the shady beech grove, next the churchyard, and across the avenue
from Mrs. MacIntyre's, the noise of hammer and saw and trowel had gone on
unceasingly, until at last the new home was ready for its occupants. The
family did not have far to move to "The Beeches"; only over the stile from
the quaint green-roofed cottage next door, where they had spent the
summer.

Allison, Kitty, and Elise climbed back and forth over the stile, their
arms full of their particular treasures, which they could not trust to the
moving-vans. All the week that Betty and Lloyd were tossing out on the
ocean, they were flitting about the new house, growing accustomed to its
unfamiliar corners. By the time the _Majestic_ steamed into the New York
harbour, they were as much at home in their new surroundings as if they
had always lived there. The tent was pitched on the lawn, the large family
of dolls was brought out under the trees, and the games, good times, and
camp-fire cooking went on as if they had never been interrupted for an
instant by the topsy-turvy work of moving.

"Whose day is it for the pony-cart?" asked Mrs. Walton, coming out on the
steps one morning.

"It was mine," answered Kitty, speaking up from the hammock, where she
swung, half in, half out, watching a colony of ants crawling along the
ground underneath. "But I traded my turn to Elise, for her biggest paper
boy doll."

"And I traded my turn to Allison, if she would let me use all the purple
and yellow paint I want in her paint-box, while I am making my Princess
Pansy's ball dress," said Elise.

Mrs. Walton smiled at the transfer of rights. The little girls had an
arrangement by which they took turns in using the cart certain days in the
week, when Ranald did not want to ride his Filipino pony.

"Whoever has it to-day may do an errand for me," Mrs. Walton said, adding,
as she turned toward the house, "Do you know that Lloyd and Betty are
coming on the three o'clock train this afternoon?"

"Then I don't want the pony-cart," exclaimed Allison, quickly. "I'm going
down to the depot to meet them."

The depot was in sight of The Beeches, not more than three minutes' walk
distant.

"Can't go back on your trade!" sang out Elise. "Can't go back on your
trade!"

"Oh, you take it, Elise," coaxed Allison. "It's my regular turn to-morrow.
I'll make some fudge in the morning, if you will."

Elise considered a moment. "Well," she said, finally, "I'll let you off
from your