tty thorny. Well, well!"
she exclaimed playfully as the two little girls, laughing gleefully,
ended their run by flinging themselves ecstatically upon herself and
Grace. "What's the meaning of this onslaught? If we hadn't been very
large, sturdy persons we might have tumbled over like nine-pins."

"We saw you coming away up the street," joyfully announced Anna May. "We
just had to run. We've been watching at our gate for you quite a while."

"There's company come to see you, Miss Harlowe," burst forth Elizabeth
excitedly. "You can never guess who. It's somebody you've known for a
long time, but it's somebody you don't see very often. We aren't going
to tell you who's on the porch. We want you to be surprised. Do hurry as
fast as ever you can, for the person is anxious to see you."

"We thought we'd tell you the minute we saw you, and then we thought it
would be more fun not to," explained Anna May wriggling with enjoyment
of the great secret.

Elfreda and Grace exchanged lightning glances as they quickened their
pace, a devoted worshipper hanging to an arm of each. Could Elfreda's
prophesy of good fortune have been thus so quickly fulfilled?

"It's not Mr. Gray." Elizabeth had remembered that long ago Grace had
answered her eager inquiry for "nice Mr. Tom" by saying that he had gone
on a journey from which he might return at any time. She had remembered,
too, how sad her dear Miss Grace had looked when she told her. When the
two children had posted themselves at the gate to watch for Grace,
Elizabeth had remarked confidentially to Anna May, "If Mr. Gray was
sitting on the porch waiting for Miss Harlowe, we couldn't surprise her.
We'd just tell her straight out. We wouldn't want to make her guess
that, would we?" And Anna May had replied: "No, siree. We ought to tell
her the first thing that it's not him, so that she won't look
disappointed when she sees who the company is."

The startled light that had leaped into Grace's eyes died as Elizabeth
frankly excluded Tom's name from the guessing contest. She inwardly
rebuked herself for thus clutching at every straw which the wind blew in
her direction. On catching a first glimpse of the veranda, she cried out
sharply. Relaxing her light hold on Elfreda's arm and dropping
Elizabeth's hand, she darted to the gate, slammed it behind her and
raced up the walk to the steps, an animated flash of blue on the autumn
landscape.

"Jean!" she almost shouted. "Where, oh, where di