him,
failed to wonder how he happened to know so much of their affairs.
"That whole portion of the valley was waste, swampy ground at one
time; it was an uncle of Jasper Peyton's who drained the land thirty
years ago and built dikes to keep the river back. He arranged to rent
it out to tenant farmers, for he said one man should own the whole to
keep up the dikes and see that the stream did not come creeping in
again. Medford River looks lazy and sleepy enough, but it can be a
raging demon when the rains are heavy and the water comes up. Your
cousin owns all of it still except for a portion up there at the bend
of the stream. That has passed out of his hands lately. It is at the
far end, on the last farm, that John Massey lives."

Oliver from this vantage point could pick out the intricate succession
of lanes and highroad that he must take to cross the river and reach
John Massey's place, showing from here as only a dot of a gray house
at the angle of the stream. The sunshine was very clear and hot over
the valley below, but the oak tree spread its broad shadow all about
them and bowed its lofty head to a fresh, salt-laden wind.

"See how still the trees are along the river," said the Beeman, "but
the oak tree is never quiet. The breeze comes past that gap in the
hills, yonder where you can look through to the sea, and it seems
never to stop blowing. So we call this place the Windy Hill."

The three set off on their errand very gayly in the big car, although
Polly and Janet, in the back seat together, were a little shy and
silent at the very first. At the end of a mile, however, they were
beginning to warm toward each other and had set up a brisk chatter
before they had gone three.

"I knew Janet would like Polly," Oliver was thinking. "She is the sort
of girl I like myself, not like Cousin Eleanor. The kind that makes
you feel that your clothes and your manners are all wrong and that you
haven't anything to say--those are the girls I can't stand."

He quite forgot that this harsh judgment of his unknown relative was
not based upon any real evidence.

When they reached the floor of the valley they found it as level as a
table, with a straight road running from end to end, along which they
sped in a whirling cloud of dust. Other cars passed them, driven by
prosperous farmers, the growl and clatter of motor tractors sounded
from the fields on either hand. Halfway up the valley the character of
the places seemed to