gh they were bright and
merry hours.

Of course, during the years, there were the regular Kenmore happenings
that impressed the girl to a greater or lesser degree, but they were like
pictures thrown upon a screen--they came, they went, while her inner
growth was steady and sure.

Two families, one familiar and commonplace, the other more mystical than
anything else, interested Priscilla mightily during her early youth.
Jerry and Michael McAlpin, with little Jerry-Jo, the son of old Jerry,
were vital factors in Kenmore. They occupied the exalted position of
rural expressmen, and distributed, when various things did not interfere,
the occasional freight and mail that survived the careless methods of the
vicinity.

The McAlpin brothers were hard drinkers, but they were most considerate.
When Jerry indulged, Michael remained sober and steady; when Michael fell
before temptation, Jerry pulled himself together in a marvellous way, and
so, as a firm, they had surmounted every inquiry and suspicion of a
relentless government and were welcomed far and wide, not only for their
legitimate business, but for the amount of gossip and scandal they
disbursed along with their load. Jerry-Jo, the son of the older McAlpin,
was four years older than Priscilla and was the only really young
creature who had ever entered her life intimately.

The other family, of whom the girl thought vaguely, as she might have of
a story, were the Travers of the Far Hill Place.

Now it might seem strange to more social minds that people from a distant
city could come summer after summer to the same spot and yet remain
unknown to their nearest neighbours; but Kenmore was not a social
community. It had all the reserve of its English heritage combined with
the suspicion of its Indian taint, and it took strangers hard. Then,
added to this, the Traverses aroused doubt, for no one, especially
Nathaniel Glenn, could account for a certain big, heavy-browed man who
shared the home life of the Hill Place without any apparent right or
position. For Mrs. Travers, Glenn had managed to conjure up a very actual
distrust. She was too good-looking and free-acting to be sound; and her
misshapen and delicate son was, so the severe man concluded, a curse, in
all probability, for past offences. The youth of Kenmore was straight and
hearty, unless--and here Nathaniel recalled his superstitions--dire
vengeance was wreaked on parents through their offspring.

With no better