her belt.

We were detected, however, by Bee and Captain Featherstone, who came
strolling gracefully around the corner of the house just as Jimmie's
convulsed clutch loosened from the trellis and set all the vines to
dancing and trembling, as if a wind-storm had passed over them.

There was no need of their asking what had happened. The ruin spoke
for itself. Captain Featherstone gallantly helped me to pick up and
replant my poor nasturtiums, but they had been so bruised and their
feelings so wounded by their undignified tumble that they did nothing
but sulk all the remainder of the summer, never once blooming out
handsomely as they should, although I carefully explained to them just
how it happened. They seemed to think that it was my fault, and they
never forgave me. Sometimes flowers are as unreasonable as people.

Three days after Billy's arrival, when he had thoroughly mastered all
the details of Peach Orchard and knew personally all the cows, the
horses, the white bulldog, the cats, the chickens, the little calves,
and the reachable branches of every tree on the place, old Amos came in
to speak to me.

He stood before me, bowing, with his hat in his hand:

"Well'm, Miss Faith honey, I reckon de time's about ripe foh de goats.
Dat boy's investigated every nook an' cornder ob de place, an' ef you
tink bes' I'll go after de goats dis afternoon."

"Very well, Amos," I said. "We are all going to Philadelphia to-day to
attend the launching of Mr. Beguelin's yacht, and we are going to take
Billy. You can bring the goats up while we are away, and tomorrow
morning we can give them to him."

"Yas'm," said Amos, bowing. "I'll have 'em hyah when y'all gets back."

I will say nothing of the ceremony of the launching of the yacht,
although, from Cary's uplifted face, you would have thought it was the
christening of a first-born child. Jimmie says we needn't say
anything. We were worse!

Billy was wildly excited over the breaking of the bottle of champagne,
and asked a thousand questions about it.

The next morning we all went out to the barn to see him receive his
goats. His face fairly beamed when he saw them. He clapped his hands.

"Oh, Uncle Aubrey! Miss Tats! Are they for me?"

Then he flung his arms around his mother's neck--Bee's neck, mind
you!--and cried out:

"Oh, mother, I do think I have the kindest relatives in all the world!
What other little boys' relatives would think of the kindness o