rst thing in the morning," added Laura. "The
very first thing, remember that!"

"I'll say so," Billie sang back gayly, and then led her guest up the
porch steps and into the house, where her mother was waiting to receive
them. Mrs. Bradley and Connie fell in love with each other at first
sight--which was the last thing needed to make Billie absolutely happy.

They went to bed early that night, the two girls snuggled in Billie's
pretty bird's-eye maple bed in Billie's pretty bird's-eye maple room.

They went to bed, but neither of the girls had either the desire or the
intention of going to sleep. They felt as if they never wanted to go to
sleep again.

And so they talked. They talked of the next day and the vacation before
them until they could not think of another thing to say about it.

Then they talked of the things that had happened at Three Towers Hall--of
the "Dill Pickles" and of Amanda Peabody and Eliza Dilks. And last, but
not least, they talked in hushed tones of the mysterious little hut in
the woods and the strange man who lived there and wove fern baskets and
other things for a living.

By the time they had reached Miss Arbuckle and the finding of her album
in the woods they were feeling delightfully thrilly and farther away from
sleep than ever.

"It really must be a mystery," Connie was saying, snuggling deeper into
the covers and staring at Billie's pretty face and tousled hair weirdly
illumined by the pale moonlight that sifted through the window, when
there came a tap on the door. And right upon the tap came Mrs. Bradley,
wearing a loose robe that made her look mysteriously lovely in the dim
light. She sat down on the edge of the bed and regarded the girls
smilingly.

"It's twelve o'clock," she said, and they stared at her unbelievingly.
"Twelve o'clock," she repeated relentlessly, "and time for girls who have
to be up early in the morning to be asleep."

"But we're not sleepy," protested Billie.

"Not a bit," added Connie.

Mrs. Bradley rose decidedly.

"Then it's time you were," she said, adding, with a little laugh: "If I
hear a sound in here ten minutes from now, I'm coming after you with a
broomstick. Remember," she added, laughing back at them from the doorway,
"I give you just ten minutes."

"I think you've got just the loveliest mother," sighed Connie, as she
turned over obediently with her back to Billie; "but I'm sure I never can
go to sleep."

Five minutes passed, and the g