r thoughts
stray again to the joys of being without sidewalks, and all that was
implied in such a lack. The porch with the silent trio would not have
seemed out of place in that enchanted country where the sleeping
princess and her subjects dreamed away a hundred years.

All at once there was a rush, a slam, a series of little rapturous
squeals. The Amy who had carried the blue envelope indoors, had been
mysteriously replaced by a young person so bubbling over with animation
as to be unable, apparently, to express herself, except by ecstatic
gurgles and a mad capering about the porch.

Had a crisp October breeze all at once dissipated the languors of the
June day, the effect on the occupants of the porch could hardly have
been more immediate. Priscilla came out of the hammock with a bound.
Peggy's cushions rolled to the bottom of the steps, as Peggy leaped to
her feet. And so precipitately did Ruth arise, that her rocking-chair
went over backward, and narrowly escaped breaking a front window.

"Amy Lassell!" Peggy seized her friend by the shoulders and gave her a
vigorous shake. "Stop acting this crazy way, and tell us what's
happened."

"Talk of fairy godmothers!" gasped Amy, coherent at last. "Talk of
dreams coming true! Oh, girls!"

"What is it?" Three exasperated voices screamed the question, and even
Amy began to realize that her explanation had lacked lucidity. She tried
again.

"That letter, you know. It's the strangest coincidence I ever heard of.
But haven't you noticed lots of times--"

"Oh, Amy," Ruth implored, "do let that part wait, and get to the point."

"Why, this is the point. That letter was from an old friend of mother's,
Mrs. Leighton. She has a home up in the country, Sweet Fern Cottage I
think they call it, or is it Sweet Briar--"

"Sweet chocolate, perhaps," suggested Priscilla with gentle sarcasm.
"One will do as well as another. Go on."

"It's the real country, Peggy, for you have to take a four-mile stage
ride to get to the railway station. And Mrs. Leighton wanted to know if
some of us wouldn't like to use the cottage, as she is going to Europe
this summer. And, right away, mother said it would be so nice for us
girls to have it."

The clamor that broke out made further explanations impossible. It was
Amy's turn to be superior.

"Girls, if you all keep talking at once, how can I ever tell you the
rest? The cottage is all furnished, Mrs. Leighton says, and we would
only have to