an?" cried Edna. "Has that girl gone daffy?"

"Now don't get up, Edna," commanded Miss Martha. "Sylvia is cooking."

"Cooking!" Edna rose from the hammock. "At this time of night? Why
didn't you ask Jenny"--

"She wouldn't let me. I don't know what it is, any more than you do;
but it was something she was bound to do herself, and I had to let her.
What takes me is the injustice I've done that child. I never dreamed
she had such domestic tendencies. I supposed she was all unpractical
and artistic like her poor father, and to think here she has some
recipe she's so crazy about she can't wait till morning." Miss Lacey's
voice trailed away in a gratified laugh. "Perhaps it's something Mrs.
Lem has taught her."

"Let's go and spy upon her," suggested John.

The two stole softly around the house on the grass to the open kitchen
window, where they shamelessly remained to gaze and listen. They saw
Sylvia leaning over the stove, carefully stirring something with a
large spoon. Jenny turned from the sink.

"Will ye be havin' another stick, Miss Sylvia?"

"There's going to be a stick in it. Whoop!" whispered John.

"Only in the stove," replied Edna, as the fuel was added. "Cheer up,
it's something good, anyway."

"What are ye after makin', Miss Sylvia?" asked the cook.

The girl pursed her smiling lips: "A philtre, Jenny. Did you ever hear
of one?"

"Sure I have. We use them all the time in Boston. Mr. Derwent won't
lave me even cook with water that ain't filtered. Sure, we don't need
one here, and annyway, how could ye make one from berries?"

"This is a different kind of philtre. I'm brewing something that I hope
will make somebody happy. A girl, Jenny. Me. This is to make me happy.
That is, if it works like a charm,--and I think it will. I think it
will." Sylvia repeated the words joyously as she watched and stirred.

"A love charm, is it!" ejaculated Jenny. Her mouth fell open, and she
paused, staring, dish-towel in hand.

Sylvia laughed quietly. Her pretty, excited face, red from the sun and
wind and with added color from the hot stove, nodded in the earnestness
of her reply.

"Yes,--that's just what it is," she answered.

"You're in love, then, Miss Sylvia?"

Sylvia nodded again.

"Yes,--I am. It wasn't at first sight either, Jenny. I don't know why I
was so dull,--but it's apt to last the longer. Don't you think so?"

"I do that, Miss Sylvia," returned the girl emphatically; "and sure a
beauty like y