g minds except among a few of
the higher scholars. It was not considered food for babes.

Rachel untied the bundle that had been bound up with a stout cord.

"Thou canst put them in the closet in an orderly manner. Then, if thou
hast returned to thy right mind, come downstairs."

Primrose looked out of the window without stirring. The great walnut
trees were waving their arms and making golden figures on the grass that
ran about everywhere. Patty had told her stories of "little people" who
lived in the north of England and Scotland, but they only came out in
the moonlight. Ah, these were birds or squirrels--oh! there was a
squirrel up in the tree, with his great bushy tail thrown over his back.
And Primrose laughed with tears still shining on her lashes. Over at a
distance was a hen with a brood of chickens, clucking her way along. And
there were two pretty calves in an inclosure.

But then there was everything at Aunt Wetherill's, and such rows and
rows of flowers. Patty brought them into the rooms in bowls, and the
young ladies wore them. What was that? Oh, the little old lady under the
tree was walking away----

"Faith," said the clear, calm voice, "leave off thy gardening.
Grandmother is growing restless."

Primrose watched with strange interest. Presently a girl of about her
own size walked quietly out to the old lady and took her by the arm,
turning her around, and led her back to the house. After that--nothing.
She was almost frightened at the stillness and began to cry again as a
sense of loneliness oppressed her. Oh, she must go back! There was
something in her throat that choked her. Then a tall figure came across
the field in his shirt-sleeves, and with a great swinging stride.

Suddenly her heart bounded within her body. Like a bird she flew down
the stairs, almost running over Chloe, out of the door, skimming along
the grassy way, and never taking breath until two strong arms lifted her
from the ground and kissed her, not once, but dozens of times.

"Child, when did you come?"

"Oh, such a long time ago! It must be years, I think. And I hate it, the
old house and everything! I cannot stay. Andrew, take me back. If you do
not I shall run away. I want Patty and Aunt Wetherill, and little Joe,
who is always doing such funny things, and Mistress Kent whips him, but
he does them over when she is not there, only she comes suddenly--and
the pretty ladies who laugh and talk. It is so dreary here."

She r