nd a wide hat,
slipping from his yellow mane, added a last debonair touch to his
picturesque little person. He was flushed, but gracious and at ease.

"You're one of the reasons we came!" he said in a rich little
voice--when his mother's "You've heard me speak of Mrs. Moore, Peter?"
had introduced them. "You have boys, too, haven't you?"

"I have three," said Mrs. Moore, in the rational, unhurried tone that
only very clever people use to children. "Billy is nine, George seven,
Jack is three; and then there's a girl--my Mary."

"I come next to Billy," calculated little Peter, his eyes very eager.

"You and he will like each other, I hope," said Billy's mother.

"I hope we will--I hope so!" he assented vivaciously. "I've been
thinking so!"

Mrs. Carolan presently suggested that he go off with Betta to pack the
luncheon things in the car, and the three watched his sturdy, erect
little figure out of sight. Mrs. Moore heard his gay voice break into
ready Italian as they went.

A horde of workmen took possession of Carolan Hall a few days later,
and for happy weeks Jean and Mary followed and directed them. The Moore
children and Peter Carolan explored every fascinating inch of house and
garden. Linen and china were unpacked, old furniture polished, and old
paintings restored.

Mrs. Moore, with her two oldest sons frolicking about her like excited
puppies, came up to Carolan Hall one exquisite morning a month later.
Brush fires were burning in the thinning woods, and the blue, fragrant
smoke drifted in thin veils across the sunlight.

A visit to the circus was afoot, and Peter Carolan, seated on the porch
steps in the full glory of starched blue linen and tan sandals, leaped
up to join his friends in a war-dance of wild anticipation.

Jean came out, also starched and radiant, kissed her guests, piled some
wraps into the waiting motor, and engineered the group into the shaded
dining-room, where the excited children were somehow to be coaxed into
eating their luncheon. Sidney came in late, to smile at them all from
the top of the table.

It was rapidly dawning on the adult consciousness that, above every
other sound, the voices of the children were really reaching
inexcusable heights, when a burst of laughter and a brief struggle
between Peter and Billy Moore resulted in an overturned mug, the usual
rapidly spreading pool of milk, and the usual reckless mopping. Peter's
silver mug fell to the floor, and rolled to th