y, twitted him about, and felt the wings of Romance
whirring in the already complicated air. For this additional element
of interest he furnished, she could almost forgive him his scoffing
attitude toward her own most serious affairs.

But Pete, fortunately for his complacency, didn't suspect the reason for
her concentrated though friendly gaze.

All in all, Missy felt quite at peace when she went upstairs. Grandma
tucked her into bed--the big, extraordinarily soft feather-bed which was
one of the outstanding features of grandma's fascinating house.

And there--wonder of wonders!--the moon, through grandma's window, found
her out just as readily as though she'd been in her own little bed at
home. Again it carried in the grace of God, to rest through the night on
her pillow.

Next day was an extremely happy day. She had coffee for breakfast, and
was permitted by Alma, the hired girl, to dry all the cups and saucers.
Then she dusted the parlour, including all the bric-a-brac, which made
dusting here an engrossing occupation. Later she helped grandpa hoe
the cabbages, and afterward "puttered around" with grandma in the
flower-garden. Then she and grandma listened, very quietly, through a
crack in the nearly-closed door while grandpa conducted a hearing in the
parlour. To tell the truth, Missy wasn't greatly interested in whether
Mrs. Brenning's chickens had scratched up Mrs. Jones's tomato-vines, hut
she pretended to be interested because grandma was.

And then, after the hearing was over, and the Justice-of-the-Peace had
become just grandpa again, Missy went into the parlour and played hymns.
Then came dinner, a splendid and heavy repast which constrained her
to take a nap. After the nap she felt better, and sat out on the front
porch to learn crocheting from grandma.

For a while Pete sat with them, and Polly Currier from next door came
over, too. She looked awfully pretty all in white--white shirtwaist and
white duck skirt and white canvas oxfords. Presently Pete suggested that
Polly go into the parlour with him to look at some college snapshots.
Missy wondered why he didn't bring them out to the porch where it was
cooler, but she was too polite to ask.

They stayed in there a long time--what were they doing? For long spaces
she couldn't even hear their voices. Grandma chattered away with her
usual vivacity; presently she suggested that they leave off crocheting
and work on paper-flowers a while. What a delight!