benignly.

"You'd be most awfully disagreeable to live with," he returned.

"Thank you for the compliment. I'd like to run the risk, though."

"Let me move out of town first," the boy replied teasingly. "But you needn't be greedy; I'd be satisfied to have one wish."

"That's because you don't need so many things as I do."

"It's because I have one thing I want so much more than I do the others," he retorted.

She looked up at him with a sudden flash of tenderness in her eyes.

"I know," she said gently; "but it won't be long."

"Months, though. How would you like it to take a year out of your life?"

Theodora's brows contracted.

"Don't you suppose I ever think about it, Billy Farrington? I should be frantic, if I were in your place, and I don't see how you ever stand it. It makes my wishes seem so small, in comparison. I'd rather be poorer than Job's turkey than spend even one month on my back. Does it hurt; or is it just that you can't do things? Either one is bad enough."

"It hurts sometimes."

"Now?"

He nodded.

"I thought you looked tired, as if something bothered you," Theodora said penitently; "and here I've stayed talking to you, when you'd rather have been by yourself."

"Honestly, no. You make me forget things." He held out his hand in protest, as she started to rise. "Sit down again."

She obeyed him; but she fell silent, as she sat looking up at him. He had more color than usual, she noticed; but there were fine lines between his brows, and his red-gold hair was pushed back from his face, as if its weight irritated him.

"But what are the wishes?" he asked, restive under her scrutiny, and seeking to divert her.

"Oh, I have dozens and dozens; but there are three great big ones which increase in greatness as they go on."

"What are they?" he asked curiously. "You'll get them, if you wait long enough. People always do."

"I don't believe it. These are all impossible, and I never expect to get them; but I want them, all the same. I want—" She hesitated, laughing and blushing a little. "You'll make fun of me."

"No, I won't. Go on and tell."

"I want a bicycle first. Then I want to go to college." She hesitated again and stuck fast.

"And then?"

She raised her head and spoke rapidly.

"Don't laugh; but I want some day to be an author and write books."

She started abruptly, for a white hand suddenly rested on her shoulder.

"Bravo, Miss Teddy!—for it is Miss Teddy; isn't it? Will has told me about you and I'm glad to get a glimpse of you at last. Your wishes are good ones, all of them, and I hope you will get them, and get them soon."

As she spoke, Mrs. Farrington moved across and seated herself on the edge of the lounge.

"How is the pain, Will?" she asked, bending over to settle him more comfortably. "I was sorry to leave you so long; but you were in good hands. Miss Teddy, this boy of mine says that you have been very good to him, since we came here."

Theodora flushed a little. It was the first time she had been face to face with Mrs. Farrington, and she found the slender figure in its unrelieved black gown rather awe-inspiring. She began to wish that she had taken Hope's advice and remained upon her own side of the fence. During the past ten days, her neighborly calls had been frequent; but she had always before now succeeded in making her escape before any one else appeared. Hubert, in the meantime, had dutifully called on his new neighbor; but he had called decorously and by way of the front gate, at a time when Billy was out with his mother for their daily drive, so Mrs. Farrington had caught no glimpse of their young neighbors who had it in their power to make such a difference in her son's life. She had been amused and interested in Billy's account of Theodora's erratic calls, and she had felt an instant liking for the bright-faced, straightforward young girl who was as free from self-consciousness as Billy himself.

"When is your father coming back?" she asked, after a pause, during which she became conscious of Theodora's searching scrutiny.

"Day after to-morrow, I think. We had a letter from him, this morning."

"I am so glad," Mrs. Farrington said. "I want him to see Will as soon as he comes. Dr. Parker spoke so highly of him that I feel it is everything for us to be so near him as we are."

Theodora's color came. She was intensely loyal to her father, and praise of him was sweet to her ears.

"People say that papa is a good doctor," she replied frankly. "I hope he'll be able to help Billy. Anyway, we're all so glad to have somebody living here again. It's ages since the house has been occupied."

Mrs. Farrington smiled.

"I should judge so from the general air of mustiness I find. I rejoice in all this bright, warm weather, so Will can live out of doors. The house feels fairly clammy, and I don't like to have him in it, more than I can help. I hope you are going to be very neighborly, all of you, this coming winter."

Theodora laughed.

"All five of us? Remember, you aren't used to such a horde, and we may overrun you entirely. You'd better arrange to take us on the instalment plan."

"We're not timid," Billy asserted. "Really, I think we can stand it, Miss Teddy."

Theodora shook her head.

"You've not seen Babe yet, and you little realize what she is. In fact, you've hardly seen any of us. I want you to know Hope. You'll adore her; boys always do."

"In the meantime," Mrs. Farrington interposed; "I want to know something about—" she paused for the right word,—"about your new mother. Some one told me she was at Vassar. That is my college, you know. What was her maiden name?"

"Holden. Elizabeth Holden."

"Bess Holden!" Mrs. Farrington started up excitedly. "I wonder if it can be Bess. What does she look like?"

"I've only seen her once."

"Was she tall and dark, with great blue eyes?"

"Yes, I think so, and I remember that her eyebrows weren't just alike; one was bent more than the other."

"It must be Bess." Mrs. Farrington rose and moved to and fro across the lawn. Theodora watched her admiringly, noticing her firm, free step and the faultless lines of her tailor-made gown. She felt suddenly young and crude and rather shabby. Then Mrs. Farrington paused beside her. "If it is Bess Holden, Miss Teddy, your father is a happy man, and I am a happy woman to have stumbled into this neighborhood. She was the baby of our class, and one of the finest girls in it. When she comes, ask her—No, don't ask her anything. It is eighteen years since we met, and I want to see if she'll remember me. Don't tell her anything about me, please."

A week later, the McAlisters were sitting under one of the trees on the hill, a little away from the house. It was a bright golden day, and Theodora had lured them outside, directly after dinner. The doctor had been called away; but the others had strolled across the lawn and up the hill as far as a great bed of green and gray moss, where they had thrown themselves down under one of the great chestnut-trees. At their right, an aged birch drooped nearly to the earth; behind them, a pile of lichen-covered rocks cropped out from the moss, against which the twins were resting in an indiscriminate pile. To Mrs. McAlister's mind, there was something indescribably pleasant in this simple holiday-making, and she gave herself up as unreservedly to the passing hour as did the young people around her.

All at once, Theodora pinched Hubert's arm, and laid her finger on