came a
multitude of fairy echoes, sweet, elusive, silvery, as if all the "horns
of elfland" were blowing against the sunset. Anne and Diana exclaimed in
delight.

"Now laugh, Charlotta . . . laugh loudly."

Charlotta, who would probably have obeyed if Miss Lavendar had told her
to stand on her head, climbed upon the stone bench and laughed loud
and heartily. Back came the echoes, as if a host of pixy people were
mimicking her laughter in the purple woodlands and along the fir-fringed
points.

"People always admire my echoes very much," said Miss Lavendar, as if
the echoes were her personal property. "I love them myself. They
are very good company . . . with a little pretending. On calm evenings
Charlotta the Fourth and I often sit out here and amuse ourselves with
them. Charlotta, take back the horn and hang it carefully in its place."

"Why do you call her Charlotta the Fourth?" asked Diana, who was
bursting with curiosity on this point.

"Just to keep her from getting mixed up with other Charlottas in my
thoughts," said Miss Lavendar seriously. "They all look so much alike
there's no telling them apart. Her name isn't really Charlotta at all.
It is . . . let me see . . . what is it? I THINK it's Leonora . . . yes, it
IS Leonora. You see, it is this way. When mother died ten years ago I
couldn't stay here alone . . . and I couldn't afford to pay the wages of
a grown-up girl. So I got little Charlotta Bowman to come and stay with
me for board and clothes. Her name really was Charlotta . . . she was
Charlotta the First. She was just thirteen. She stayed with me till
she was sixteen and then she went away to Boston, because she could
do better there. Her sister came to stay with me then. Her name was
Julietta . . . Mrs. Bowman had a weakness for fancy names I think . . .
but she looked so like Charlotta that I kept calling her that all the
time . . .and she didn't mind. So I just gave up trying to remember her
right name. She was Charlotta the Second, and when she went away Evelina
came and she was Charlotta the Third. Now I have Charlotta the Fourth;
but when she is sixteen . . . she's fourteen now . . . she will want to
go to Boston too, and what I shall do then I really do not know.
Charlotta the Fourth is the last of the Bowman girls, and the best. The
other Charlottas always let me see that they thought it silly of me to
pretend things but Charlotta the Fourth never does, no matter what she
may really think.