rictions," which meant
that only separate houses could be built on the lots. Peter Westley
struck the ground with his heavy cane and said he'd take the whole
piece. The real estate man gasped. Uncle Peter said "pouf" again and the
deal was settled.

Then he summoned architects from all over the country who, to his
delight, spent hours in the office of the Westley Cement-Mixer
Manufacturing Company trying to outdo one another in finesse and
suavity. Fortunately he decided upon a man who had genius as well as
tact, who, without his knowing it, could quietly bend old Peter Westley
to his way of thinking. Under this man's planning the new home grew
until it stood in its finished perfection, a mass of stone and marble
surrounded by great trees and sloping lawns. Gossip said further that
Highacres so far surpassed the remodeled home of Thomas Knowles that
that poor gentleman had resigned from the Meadow Brook Country Club so
that he would not have to drive past it!

What sentiment had led Peter Westley to leave Highacres to the Lincoln
School no one would ever know; perhaps deep in his queer old heart was
an affection for his nephew Robert's children, who came dutifully to see
him once or twice a year, but made no effort to conceal the fact that
they thought it a dreadful bore.

"I think," Isobel said seriously to her family, as they were gathered
around the breakfast table, a few days after Jerry's arrival, "that it'd
be nice if Gyp and I put on black----"

"_Black_----" cried Gyp, spilling her cocoa in her astonishment.

"Yes, black. We should have worn it when Uncle Peter died and now, going
to school out there, it would show the others that we respected----"

Mrs. Westley laughed, then when she saw the color deepen on Isobel's
cheeks she added soothingly: "Your thought's all right, Isobel dear, but
it will be hardly necessary for you and Gyp to put on black now to show
your respect. I think every pupil of Lincoln can best do it by building
up a reputation for scholarship that will make Lincoln known all over
the country."

"Isobel just wants everybody to remember she's Uncle Peter's----"

"Hush, Graham." Mrs. Westley had a way of saying "hush" that cleared a
threatening atmosphere at once.

"Oh, isn't it going to be _fun_?" cried Gyp. "Mother, can't we take
Jerry out there this morning?"

"But I have to use the car----"

"If you girls were fellows, we could walk," broke in Graham.

"We can--we can! It's onl