Miss Eliza's
parting gift. Which was a watch that had seen Miss Eliza faithfully
through more than one decade, a large and handsomely chased affair of
gold on a long ribbon of black gros-grain.

"The child will need a watch," said Miss Eliza.

Arethusa fully appreciated the parting gift, and she reverenced the
old-fashioned timepiece fully as much as had its former owner.

What though it was a trifle heavy in her hand as she held it to read
the dial! Was it not an actual watch and gold at that, and did not its
tiny hands count off the moments of each one of the twenty-four hours
for her to note as they flew by? And was not all of its wonder her very
own now?

"A quarter to one," she announced proudly.

"Well, well, you don't say so! No wonder he's hungry! You'll be having
some lunch with us, Miss Worth'ton, won't you now?"

But Arethusa refused this cordial invitation. She could not possibly
eat a mouthful. Food would have stuck in her throat right on top of the
big lump of excitement that was already there. And besides the drawback
of this decided inability to swallow, she had not the slightest
sensation of hunger that would have tempted her to try to eat.

"I had some lunch of my own," she shyly offered the neatly tied-up box;
"Aunt 'Liza makes awfully nice jam and things and Mandy said she was
going to fix me some fried chicken. But I don't want a bit of it.
Wouldn't Helen Louise and Peter like to have it?"

Helen Louise's pale blue eyes glistened at this mention of fried
chicken. Her own lunch contained no such appetizing delicacy. She had
helped to tie it up, and she knew just what was in it. This was far
superior in every way. She pulled at her mother's dress in eagerness,
and Mrs. Cherry reached down and slapped her.

"Don't you act like you never had nothing in your life to eat," she
said sharply.

Then Helen Louise's eyes began to glisten with tears. Arethusa felt
very sorry for her. She had seemed so like a kindred spirit in her
plainly manifested father worship. So Arethusa opened the dainty little
packet of chicken and sandwiches and spread it temptingly on Helen
Louise's lap with her own hands.

"Here," she said, "you may have it, Helen Louise. But you'll give Peter
some? Do," she added quickly.

For Peter's large round eyes were regarding with a greediness
unmistakable the munificence of food that had been so generously
bestowed upon his sister.

"Well, I will say this," remarked Mrs. Che