Amy in Acadia: A Story for Girls

Had Priscilla been able to see herself she would have discovered that she, too, added to the gaiety of the group, for her baskets were even more brilliant in coloring than the vegetables, and as she had to carry them in her arms they made a rather startling display. Lucian had offered to take her load, but she had waved him away.

"No, a boy always finds it much harder to manage clumsy packages. These are not heavy; it's merely that they look awkward."

So Lucian had contented himself with buying three or four bouquets of the brightest flowers,—dahlias and garden asters chiefly,—and with both hands thus filled he made the procession more brilliant.

When they reached the house none of their party happened to be in sight, so, at Lucian's suggestions, Priscilla left her baskets on the sitting-room table while she went upstairs to find Mrs. Redmond. Amy's room adjoined her mother's, and as Priscilla stood there at Mrs. Redmond's half-open door the sound of voices in the inner room floated out to her. For a moment she stood there listening, quite unconscious that she was eavesdropping, until a sentence in Martine's clear voice came to her.

"She certainly is a terrible trial, narrow minded and priggish, and I don't wonder, Amy, that you dislike her."

When Priscilla grasped this sentence in its entirety she turned about instantly.

"Did you find them? Are they coming down?" asked Lucian, cheerfully, as she rejoined him.

"I—I didn't; that is, I'm not sure," stammered Priscilla. "If you don't mind, I'll leave the baskets here. Perhaps you would give them to the others;" and before Lucian could stop her she had run upstairs again.

At the dinner-table Lucian looked anxiously at Priscilla. When she thought that no one was observing her, he caught her wiping away a surreptitious drop of moisture. What could be the matter? Lucian racked his brains to decide if by any mischance he had in word or act offended Priscilla; but his conscience reassured him. He could not recall anything that might have annoyed her. On the contrary, up to the moment of their return to the house they had got along swimmingly—the latter phrase was his way of putting it.

"There's no accounting for girls," he said to himself. "I've known Martine to get dreadfully excited about nothing; but Priscilla Denman seemed such a sensible girl that I don't quite understand what the trouble is."

Before dinner had ended, however, Lucian decided that whatever it was that had disturbed Priscilla she did not blame him; for she turned to him with the utmost friendliness when he made some allusion to their morning walk, and between them they soon had the others at table laughing at their account of Malachai and the Green Market.

"I hope you paid the old man well for his trouble," said Martine; "for it probably was a great favor on his part to walk up Hollis Street toting a pail."

"Probably he paid him too well," rejoined Fritz, "unless he has changed his habits within the week. On our way from Yarmouth I tried to make Lucian see how demoralizing it would be to the natives to introduce the habit of tipping here."

"Oh, but one ought to pay for benefits received," said Lucian, "and I really do try to be prudent."

When dinner was over Lucian noticed that, as they left the room, Priscilla seemed to be trying to avoid Martine. She hardly replied to some question that the latter addressed her, and he saw other evidences that Priscilla did not care to speak to her.

After dinner Martine ran up to her brother.

"Oh, Lucian," she cried, "here's the most exciting letter from papa! I can't tell you all that's in it now, for it must be kept secret a little longer. But aren't you glad that mamma is better? I know you had a letter from her this morning. To think they'll be home in September! Oh, Lucian, I'd like to hug you, I'm so happy!"

"Please, please, not now," begged Lucian; "we couldn't explain to people that I'm your brother;" and he pointed to several passers-by on the sidewalk just outside the garden.

"Then sit here with me in this little arbor. I have several questions, and this is the first good chance I've had. Did you ever hear the name 'Balfour' in our family—in mother's family, I mean?"

Lucian shook his head. "'Balfour'?" he repeated. "I've certainly heard the name somewhere—lately, too, I should think."

"Yes, of course, dear stupid. Balfour Airton; that's the nice boy we met at Annapolis. Mr. Knight's friend, you know, the one we've talked about."

"Oh, yes, of course; do you mean to ask if he is in our family? Strange I never heard of it."

"There, listen, Lucian; this is what I mean. Mrs. Blair is mother's cousin, and her name, you know, is Audrey Balfour Blair."

"Has she a first name, and one so frivolous as 'Audrey'? How did that happen?"

"That's just what I wish to know. I thought that perhaps you would remember whether her name was Balfour before her marriage."

For a few minutes Lucian seemed lost in reflection, then looking up he exclaimed,—

"Yes, Martine, I am sure; Mrs. Blair's name was not 'Balfour,' it was 'Tuck.' I once met a brother of hers. He was visiting Chicago. But, I'll tell you what—I am pretty sure that her grandmother was a Balfour. That's where the relationship to mamma comes in. You know that her grandmother was a Balfour, and that's what makes them cousins; their grandmothers were sisters."

"Why, Lucian," cried Martine, jumping to her feet in her excitement, "that's just what I wanted to know. I don't care anything about Mrs. Blair's grandmother, but if there's a Balfour in mamma's family, don't you see how splendid it would be?"

"Can't say that I do," responded Lucian; "but if it pleases you, it's probably all right." Lucian had often said confidentially to his friends that the ways of girls were past finding out, and he did not except his sister from the general rule.

"Oh, but can't you see, Lucian, that if I could prove that Balfour Airton is a cousin to Mrs. Blair, and if mamma is a cousin of Mrs. Blair's, which—"

"Which she is, without doubt," said Lucian.

"Why, then, don't you see—"

"Oh, yes, I see," cried Lucian. "Why, then, you would be cousin to Balfour Airton and his sister. Well, perhaps there's no harm in that, if it pleases you; but what is there in it for me? I might not like either of your prodigies, and so I am not ready to be made a cousin to people I have never seen."

Yet a good-humored twinkle in Lucian's eye seemed to say, "If I would I could tell you something that would please you mightily—and perhaps I will."

Now Martine, understanding her brother pretty well, saw that he was really more sympathetic than he professed to be, so she wisely decided to wait until he was quite reedy to tell her what she wished to know; and to change the subject she pulled a letter from her pocket.

"If you hadn't had a letter from mamma by the same mail I would show this to you," she said. "It's the most delightful letter papa has ever written me, though I won't tell why—at least not just now," and she waved the closely written sheet rather tantalizingly before him.

"Oh, ho, child, you cannot tease me at this late day; and besides, I know why you try. Put your letter away, little sister; I can wait until you choose to read it to me. But I know what you want, and I am willing to gratify your curiosity. Yes, there was an Audrey Balfour in mother's family; but you may be less interested in her when I tell you about her. She was a Tory."

Lucian uttered the last word with all the scorn of one who has studied American history built on the most thoroughgoing anti-British basis.

"Oh, that's nothing," responded Martine; "at least, Priscilla would call it nothing. Each of us likes both Acadians and Tories, though I am supposed to care only for Acadians, and Priscilla for Tories. But how do you happen to know about this Audrey Balfour?"

"Through the Colonial Dames, my dear. You see, mamma had to have some papers filled out last spring. It was while you were at school, and she asked me to get a genealogist to copy certain things for her. Well, I found that mother's great-grandfather was a Tory, who was driven from his home and went to England or to Canada to live. One or two of his elder children were married before the Revolution, and their husbands were on the patriot side. One of these was Audrey, who was the grandmother of Mrs. Blair; another was our great-grandmother Edmonds. She was Martha Balfour."

"I see," interrupted Martine. "Our great-grandmother! Then it isn't so strange that I didn't remember the Balfour in our family; it is so far away. I think it's just wonderful that you remember it."

"Oh, it only happened so because I had had to have it looked up. I had the whole line typewritten for my own benefit, and I looked at it several times this year. I noticed the Tory Thomas and Audrey especially, and I wondered if they would effect my eligibility to a patriotic society that I am anxious to join. But I believe that I am all right because I am the loyal descendant of a Tory ancestor."

"Dear me!" cried Martine, when Lucian had finished this long speech. "You really sound quite learned! I believe that college has done you some good after all."

"After all! If you look up my record you'll find that I took all the history last year that Harvard allows a Freshman, and it's because I have a bent that way that I can remember these things."

"Well, Lucian, you've proved yourself a brick. I hope Priscilla won't object to this. Sometimes she is a little jealous—but there, don't repeat it—perhaps jealous is not just the word; but somehow, she doesn't always approve of me."

"She's fighting rather shy of you to-day," responded Lucian, "and I can't help wondering what you've been up to. Miss Denman doesn't seem to me an unreasonable girl. She and I had a fine time to-day at the market. I'm afraid that you have been teasing her, Martine."

But Martine continued to insist that her conscience was quite clear, so far as Priscilla was concerned, and that Lucian must imagine any traces of ill-feeling.

Nevertheless, she could but observe that Priscilla seemed to be avoiding her; for, in the afternoon, when Amy and Fritz went off on their bicycles for a spin through the Park, Priscilla declined Martine's invitation to go with her and Lucian to the Public Gardens to hear the band play.

"I have letters to write," she said, "and—well, on the whole, I really can't go."

"Very well," rejoined Martine, rather shortly, as she left Priscilla's room to report to Lucian that her invitation had been so scorned.

"You must have done something to offend her; think it over carefully, Martine, and then confess," urged Lucian. Priscilla had made so good an impression on him that he was unable to consider her wholly in the wrong.

good-bye to halifax

Lucian's well-meant advice shared the fate of most advice volunteered by brothers. Martine, unconscious of offence, had no intention of apologizing to Priscilla for things she had not done. Instead, she began to feel annoyed with the latter for her unfairness; for certainly, Priscilla, in giving Lucian the impression that he had received, must have been unfair.

"But if she has been unfair," said Martine, "she can just wait for my news. It's too bad, for when I first read papa's letter it seemed as if I could hardly wait to go downstairs to tell the others."

Now Martine, though impulsive, was not naturally vindictive, and it would have been almost impossible for her to keep her secret from Amy and Priscilla had she not, immediately after reading her letter, confided its contents to Mrs. Redmond. Somebody knew; and in the course of two or three hours that they all passed together on Saturday evening, Martine more than once changed her seat to have a whispered word or two with Amy's mother.

On Sunday they all set out for the Garrison Church. "We make almost as imposing an array as the troops themselves," said Amy.

"Perhaps we might if we were stretched out in single file. Since the boys joined us we are really a regiment; but Halifax people are so used to seeing strangers that I am afraid that they won't take any special notice of us," responded Martine.

"I should hope they wouldn't. How well we should have to behave if we felt that all eyes were upon us," replied Amy.

After service they pushed their way through the crowd waiting outside the churchyard to see the troops form in line.

"It doesn't seem quite the thing on Sunday, does it?" murmured Priscilla to Amy; whereat Martine, laughing loudly, cried:

"But surely it is better for the soldiers to turn out to church in a body than to sit in their barracks moping."

"Soldiers moping!" and Fritz laughed.

"Perhaps it isn't the soldiers, but the people crowding to stare at them, who take away the Sunday feeling," continued Priscilla.

"That's just what we are doing ourselves," retorted Martine, "and I don't feel very wicked."

"Come, come, children, don't quarrel," cried Lucian. "You are both probably right, and both probably wrong."

Neither girl replied, for the troops in their brilliant uniforms were beginning their homeward march to the inspiring music of a fine band.

As they walked homeward Martine, slipping her arm through Amy's, drew her one side.

"Tell me," she said, "and please don't let the others hear or they will laugh—is Halifax the capital of Canada?"

"No, my dear, it—"

"There, I thought it couldn't be; I knew it must be Montreal. But I asked Priscilla why that old gray building was called Government House, and she said because Halifax was the capital. I never expect Priscilla to make a mistake;" and there was a slight touch of sarcasm in Martine's tone.

"She was not wholly wrong," rejoined Amy, "for Halifax is the capital of Nova Scotia. Canada itself is composed of several provinces, of which Nova Scotia is one. The provinces are united under a general government with Ottawa the capital—not Montreal—as you suggested. All the provinces send representatives to the Parliament that assembles every year at Ottawa."

"Oh, I see—like our States and Washington."

"Yes, the general plan of government is much the same, and each province has its own Parliament. Priscilla and I were in the Parliament building here the other day. It is really a State House."

"I've noticed the Parliament building, but what is the Government House?"

"Oh, that is the residence of the Governor of Nova Scotia. His real title is Lieutenant-Governor, because all Canada has a Governor-General, who lives at Ottawa."

Both girls had been so interested in this little conversation that unconsciously they had lagged, and the others were now far ahead of them.

"Martine," said Amy, "as we have a few minutes alone now, do let me influence you to make up with Priscilla—not that any little misunderstanding is wholly your fault, but it is so much harder for Priscilla to give in than it is for you."

"But honestly, I haven't said or done a thing to offend her,—at least, not a thing that I know of, though of course for a day or two I have seen that she was trying to be particularly stiff with me."

"Well, then I wouldn't notice her stiffness. Just act as if you were the best friends in the world, and things will soon straighten themselves out."

"That certainly would be the most agreeable way, and to please you, Miss Amy Redmond, I will follow your advice. Besides, I have something very exciting to tell you and Priscilla, and I really cannot wait longer than this afternoon."

"Hurry, young ladies, hurry, hurry!"

It was Lucian calling to them. He had turned to meet them.

"What kept you so long, Martine? What have you been doing?"

"Nothing, only talking."

"Oh, that accounts for it. When once Martine begins to talk in earnest, she takes no heed of time."

Martine replied lightly to her brother's badinage, and the three reached the house in great spirits. With Amy's caution before her Martine avoided collision with Priscilla during the dinner hour. After dinner, while they were all sitting together in the little arbor,—Mrs. Redmond as well as the girls,—Martine drew a letter from her pocket.

"Listen," she cried; "I have something to read you—no, I can tell it better in my own words, although it is nearly all in papa's letter. So listen, Amy; it's for you,—and it's for you, Priscilla, as well as for me."

"And for me, too?" asked Lucian, trying to throw great expression into his voice.

"No, no, of course not. Mrs. Redmond knows, and she thinks it fine, so listen. In the first place, papa feels much obliged to every one for keeping me contented. You know I tried to make a fuss when they wouldn't take me to Europe, and he says that it's a splendid thing for me to get so interested in history. This is what he says:—

"'When you get back to Chicago you'll find that there's a lot of history there that is worth studying—not entirely about the great fire, and part of the history of Illinois is French.' I never knew that before," interpolated Martine. Then she continued to read, "'Your mother and I think that you owe much to the young ladies who are with you, as well as to Mrs. Redmond, to whom I am also writing this mail. We are much gratified by what you write about the various young people in whom you are interested. Although I cannot promise, without knowing more about her, to launch your special protégée, Yvonne, on a prima donna's career, it seems right that you should be helped to do something for her, so I am enclosing a check for three hundred dollars.'"

Amy started; Priscilla gazed in astonishment.

"'This,'" Martine continued to read, "'is to be divided into three parts. Your third is for Yvonne; a second third is for Miss Amy to use as she sees fit for the little French boy—I forget his name; and though you haven't said so, I am sure that Miss Priscilla hasn't been behind her friends in adopting somebody. Perhaps I ought to have sent more, but it will do for a beginning, and I shall be glad to hear that the money does some good.'"

"There's more about mamma's getting better and coming home soon, that I needn't read. But isn't it splendid? You can't think how hard it was for me to keep it to myself a whole day."

Upon this there was a small Babel for a second or two, until, after a moment of silence, Priscilla, in words that showed some slight hesitation, spoke,—

"I must thank you, Martine, as much as your father. You must have made him think very pleasantly of us all. But I wonder if I ought to keep the money?"

"No, my dear Puritan Prissie, you mustn't keep it. It's for you to give away as quickly as you can to your protégée, and we all know who that is."

"Yes," added Mrs. Redmond; "you need have no hesitation in using it for Eunice. Mr. Stratford has written me fully on the subject. He says that this summer has cost him so much less than Martine's vacations usually cost, that his gift is only a part of what he has saved."

"He hasn't heard yet about the Windsor fire," murmured Martine, "or he might feel differently, though the silver and the jewelry will be a Christmas matter," she concluded hastily. "Shall I send all the money at once to Yvonne, Mrs. Redmond?"

"Oh, no, my dear; we must talk things over and make careful plans for Yvonne and Pierre. A little money will go a good way with both of them."

"Oh, of course, Mrs. Redmond, whatever you say will be the thing. That isn't slang is it, Miss Amy Redmond? There's a pained expression at the corners of your mouth; but never mind, you can't deny that I've improved this summer—to beat the band;" and with this shot Martine, darting forward, laid her hand on Amy's arm.

"As an impartial judge I can say that you all have improved this summer,—at least, speaking for the three girls," said Mrs. Redmond. "Although I haven't commented on it, it has pleased me greatly to observe the rounding off of several sharp corners."

"'Speaking for the three girls,'" quoted Fritz,—"but where do we two come in? Didn't we banish ourselves when we were bid, and keep out of sight, until we heard that you had been almost destroyed by fire? Our improvement has been quite remarkable, though I don't see any one paying premiums to us; and if we had protégés whom we wished to protect we'd have to go deep into our own pockets for the wherewithal."

"Yes," added Lucian, "I was thinking of that myself. It's a good thing that we haven't found any one to be interested in."

"Oh, but you have, Lucian; at least, I have found some one for you. Don't you remember our new cousins, the Airtons? How stupid! I haven't told any one else." And hereupon, without further delay, Martine plunged into an account of the discovery that she thought that she had made—that Eunice Airton and her brother were cousins in the third or fourth degree to her and Lucian.

"I feel as if we ought to wait until we can make sure, but Lucian says that he can put his hand on the papers when he returns to Cambridge—and at any rate mamma will know. I'm awfully sorry, Prissie dear, that they are not your cousins too; but perhaps we can find a link somewhere back among the Mayflowers—just large enough to join you and Eunice."

Priscilla, not knowing what to reply to Martine's fun, wisely chose the golden mean of silence. If Martine had not said "Prissie" she might have thought her wholly in earnest.

"But oh, dear," reflected Priscilla, "I do wish that Eunice had turned out to be my cousin instead of Martine's. It doesn't seem fair that she should have everything." This thought, however, had hardly shaped itself, when Priscilla put it far from her. Martine had certainly been generous, and Priscilla, if narrow in some ways, meant never to be unjust.

Martine, however, had other things than Priscilla's attitude on her mind.

"So you see, Lucian," she concluded, "there is some one for you to help,—not that Balfour Airton wishes any one to do anything for him,—but if he's a cousin, you'd naturally want to help him save his time for study in the summer holidays."

"I study so diligently myself in the summer," commented Lucian, "that I'd be a fine one to lay down the law to my new cousin! No, poor fellow, if I have anything to do with him, I'll certainly not advise him to lay himself out on summer study."

"Oh, Lucian! If I didn't know that you'd take an interest in Balfour, I'd try to persuade you; but just think how Mrs. Blair will feel!"

"Mrs. Blair! What in the world has she to do with—anything?" concluded Amy, vaguely.

"Why, if Eunice and Balfour are our cousins, then they are her cousins, and as she doesn't like people who work, it will be great fun to tell her about Balfour, for probably he'll get through college much better than Philip did—"

"My dear Martine, did Mrs. Blair ever harm you?"

"No, except to say that what a pity it is that I am not at all like Edith."

"There! Eunice Airton reminds me of Edith; that's the resemblance that puzzled me;" and Amy seemed pleased with her discovery.

"Oh, if they're at all alike, I won't object to this Eunice as a cousin, for Edith isn't half bad, and—"

Lucian's speech was cut short by the appearance on the scene of the little buttons of the hotel, who happened to know Lucian rather better than the rest of the party.

"If you please, sir," he said, "here's a telegram for one of the ladies, and I don't know which is which, though her name—it seems to be Mrs. Redmond," and he handed an envelope to Lucian.

In an instant Mrs. Redmond had read the despatch, while Amy asked anxiously, "Is it anything serious, mamma?"

"No, no, my child, far from it. I told you there was a probability that certain business would call me home a little earlier than we had planned. Well, the summons has come, and I ought to start to-morrow."

"Oh, I am so glad!" exclaimed Priscilla, with an expression of real delight.

"Why, I thought that you were enjoying yourself."

"Yes, Mrs. Redmond, so I am, but I shall be so happy to see mamma again, and the children. I had a letter from the twins yesterday, and they miss me dreadfully."

"Shall we go home through Clare? Shall we have a chance to see Yvonne?"

"And Pierre?" added Amy.

"And Eunice? Of course we could stay over one train at Wolfville," pleaded Priscilla.

"My dear children," remonstrated Mrs. Redmond, "I fear that you did not understand me. I must be in Boston as quickly as possible, and that means that we must take the direct boat from Halifax."

"All of us? Then Lucian and I will return to New England with hardly a glimpse of the real Acadia."

"I have no control over your movements. You and Lucian must do whatever seems best for yourselves."

"Whatever you advise is best," interposed Lucian, gallantly, "but I am pretty sure that Fritz will agree with me that it would be much pleasanter for us if you would permit us to return with you."

"Not only pleasanter, but much safer for some of the members of your party;" and Fritz assumed an air of importance.

"Yes," added Lucian, "there's my sister. Suppose she should accidentally fall overboard, or—"

"Or suppose Amy should lose her keys," interrupted Fritz, "or—"

"There, there, if the girls never suffer greater mishaps than those that have come to them this summer, they will do very well. We call this a pretty successful trip."

"And really," added Martine, "nothing that has happened was anybody's fault. Those things were simply adventures, and besides, I might easily have had scarlet fever; so congratulate me on my escape. Even a trip through Acadia would have been just a little dull without some mishaps."

When Mrs. Redmond had left the young people to themselves, they separated into two groups, Martine and Priscilla and Lucian in one, and Amy and Fritz in another.

"Now, Priscilla," cried Martine, "since we are friends again, perhaps you will not object to telling me why you were annoyed with me yesterday. Even Lucian noticed it."

Priscilla, coloring at this abrupt question, glanced shyly at Lucian.

"Oh, you needn't mind Lucian," said Martine, noting the direction of her glance. "He doesn't count."

Thus Priscilla, feeling less afraid of Lucian's criticism than of his sister's reckless tongue, admitted that her feelings had been hurt by the glimpse that she had had of Martine with her finger on her lips.

"I always have hated secrets," she admitted, "especially when it seems as if some one is trying to keep something from me. I thought that if you and Amy didn't wish me to know anything,—I mean, if there was anything that you didn't wish me to know,—why I wouldn't intrude; but I realize now how foolish I was, especially as the secret was something pleasant for me."

"After all, I didn't tell it to Amy then, so you might as well have stayed with us."

"Oh, no, she mightn't, for then Miss Denman and I wouldn't have had that visit to the Green Market. You, by the way, will miss it, because you won't be here next Market Day," interposed Lucian.

"It certainly was great fun, especially Mr. Malachai Robertson," added Priscilla, with a smile, "and I have learned one thing—not to indulge myself in any little jealous feelings, particularly on this trip."

"On this trip;" and Martine shook her finger at her friend. "To think that Puritan Prissie should break forth into slang!" But the only effect of her ridicule was to make Priscilla smile too, and open her heart a little wider.

"I haven't quite finished my confession," she continued. "You know yesterday morning, when your brother and I came home from the Green Market, I overheard you talking to Amy about some one who was 'narrow-minded and conventional,' and you didn't wonder she disliked her, and I thought it was me," concluded poor Priscilla, with an apparent disregard of grammar.

"Of course we didn't mean you," responded Martine, "although at this moment I don't quite—oh, yes, I do remember. It was Miss Belloc, one of Amy's classmates. Amy was telling me of some priggish things that Miss Belloc had said, and I did use those very words yesterday. But if you had listened longer you would have heard Amy say, 'not that I disliked Miss Belloc, but her narrow views.' Then you would have known that we didn't mean you."

"Oh, I know that you didn't, and I realize now that I have been very unfair."

"Oh, no, only a little unfair," rejoined Martine, "but 'least said, soonest mended,' and the most important thing is that now we are both going to be perfectly fair after this."

Meanwhile Amy and Fritz were discussing various practical matters.

"Your mother and I have been talking over this letter of Mr. Stratford's, and we both agree that you probably will not disagree with us—in other words, we think it would be wiser for you girls not to send money to your protégé Pierre, or to Yvonne, or Eunice, until after we have reached Boston." Fritz had assumed a manner of unwonted dignity, and with difficulty Amy refrained from laughing at him.

"Delay will give Martine time to find out if it is best to put part of the money in the hands of some one to spend for Yvonne in Clare, or whether it would be better to have her come to Boston to have her eyes treated. Then, after you have talked with one or two teachers, you can judge whether Pierre is too young to have a course of manual training. You don't know what you want yourself yet."

"Really, Fritz!"

"Yes, really, Miss Amy Redmond, I think that the poor little beggar ought to have some fun with his hundred dollars, instead of being ground down to more education. Then, as to Eunice Airton and her brother, why, if they really are cousins of Martine's, Priscilla Denman needn't have them on her mind any longer. Mr. Stratford will come down with something handsome, so they might have this hundred as an instalment to get some fun with at once."

"You don't know Balfour Airton. I shouldn't be surprised if he should insist on his sister's returning Martine's present."

"Then the sooner Martine proves her cousinship the better. The money can wait until that is accomplished. Now a word especially for you, Miss Amy Redmond. Please admit that Lucian and I are very magnanimous in making so few reflections upon our banishment. Also admit, please, that you would have had a much better time if we had been with you."

"We couldn't have had a better time," averred Amy, stoutly. "We've enjoyed every minute of it, and I shall return to college a new person. Why, I've gained ten pounds in these few weeks."

"Ah, Amy," sighed Fritz, "you are as practical and unsentimental as ever you were at Rockley. Yet you love old graveyards, and can write poetry. Here I would have saved you from fire and flood, could have kept your keys in my care, and still you say that by yourselves you have had a better time than if we had been with you!"

"Oh, no, I didn't say that, only that we have had so pleasant a time that it couldn't have been better."

Here Amy stopped. She saw that she had involved herself in a contradiction; so with Fritz's laughing voice ringing in her ears she hastened indoors to talk over with Mrs. Redmond the various arrangements for their departure from Acadia.

THE END

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"The fourth and last of the 'Brenda' books," says The Bookman, "deals with social settlement work, under conditions with which the author is familiar." The Boston Transcript adds: "This book is by far the best of the series."

LITTLE, BROWN, & COMPANY, Publishers
254 WASHINGTON ST., BOSTON, MASSACHUSETTS

A Story for Younger Girls

IRMA AND NAP

By HELEN LEAH REED

Author of "Amy in Acadia," The "Brenda" Books, etc.

Illustrated by Clara E. Atwood. 12mo. $1.25

A brightly written story about children from eleven to thirteen years of age, who live in a suburban town, and attend a public grammar school. The book is full of incident of school and home life.

The story deals with real life, and is told in the simple and natural style which characterized Miss Reed's popular "Brenda" stories.—Washington Post.

There are little people in this sweetly written story with whom all will feel at once that they have been long acquainted, so real do they seem, as well as their plans, their play, and their school and home and everyday life.—Boston Courier.

Her children are real; her style also is natural and pleasing.—The Outlook, New York.

Miss Reed's children are perfectly natural and act as real girls would under the same circumstances. Nap is a lively little dog, who takes an important part in the development of the story.—Christian Register, Boston.

A clever story, not a bit preachy, but with much influence for right living in evidence throughout.—Chicago Evening Post.

LITTLE, BROWN, AND COMPANY
254 WASHINGTON STREET, BOSTON

ANNA CHAPIN RAY'S

"TEDDY" STORIES

Miss Ray's work draws instant comparison with the best of Miss Alcott's: first, because she has the same genuine sympathy with boy and girl life; secondly, because she creates real characters, individual and natural, like the young people one knows, actually working out the same kind of problems; and, finally, because her style of writing is equally unaffected and straightforward.—Christian Register, Boston.

TEDDY: HER BOOK. A Story of Sweet Sixteen
Illustrated by Vesper L. George. 12mo. $1.50.

This bewitching story of "Sweet Sixteen," with its earnestness, impetuosity, merry pranks, and unconscious love for her hero, has the same spring-like charm.—Kate Sanborn.

PHEBE: HER PROFESSION. A Sequel to "Teddy: Her Book"
Illustrated by Frank T. Merrill. 12mo. $1.50.

This is one of the few books written for young people in which there is to be found the same vigor and grace that one demands in a good story for older people.—Worcester Spy.

TEDDY: HER DAUGHTER
A Sequel to "Teddy: Her Book," and "Phebe: Her Profession"
Illustrated by J. B. Graff. 12mo. $1.50.

It is a human story, all the characters breathing life and activity.—Buffalo Times.

NATHALIE'S CHUM
Illustrated by Ellen Bernard Thompson. 12mo. $1.50.

Nathalie is the sort of a young girl whom other girls like to read about.—Hartford Courant.

URSULA'S FRESHMAN. A Sequel to "Nathalie's Chum"
Illustrated by Harriet Roosevelt Richards. 12mo. $1.50.

The best of a series already the best of its kind.—Boston Herald.

NATHALIE'S SISTER. A Sequel to "Ursula's Freshman"
Illustrated by Alice Barber Stephens. 12mo. $1.50.

Peggy, the heroine, is a most original little lady who says and does all sorts of interesting things. She has pluck and spirit, and a temper, but she is very lovable, and girls will find her delightful to read about.—Louisville Evening Post.

New Illustrated Editions of
Miss Alcott's Famous Stories

THE LITTLE WOMEN SERIES

By Louisa M. Alcott. Illustrated Edition. With eighty-four full-page plates from drawings especially made for this edition by Reginald B. Birch, Alice Barber Stephens, Jessie Willcox Smith, and Harriet Roosevelt Richards. 8 vols. Crown 8vo. Decorated cloth, gilt, in box, $16.00.

Separately as follows:

1. LITTLE MEN: Life at Plumfield with Jo's Boys
With 15 full-page illustrations by Reginald B. Birch. $2.00.

2. LITTLE WOMEN: or Meg, Jo, Beth, and Amy
With 15 full-page illustrations by Alice Barber Stephens. $2.00.

3. AN OLD-FASHIONED GIRL
With 12 full-page pictures by Jessie Willcox Smith. $2.00.

4. JO'S BOYS, and How They Turned Out
A Sequel to "Little Men." With 10 full-page plates by Ellen Wetherald Ahrens. $2.00.

5. EIGHT COUSINS; or, the Aunt-Hill
With 8 full-page pictures by Harriet Roosevelt Richards.

6. ROSE IN BLOOM
A Sequel to "Eight Cousins." With 8 full-page pictures by Harriet Roosevelt Richards. $2.00.

7. UNDER THE LILACS
With 8 original full-page pictures by Alice Barber Stephens. $2.00.

8. JACK AND JILL
With 8 full-page pictures from drawings by Harriet Roosevelt Richards. $2.00.

The artists selected to illustrate have caught the spirit of the originals and contributed a series of strikingly beautiful and faithful pictures of the author's characters and scenes.—Boston Herald.

Alice Barber Stephens, who is very near the head of American illustrators, has shown wonderful ability in delineating the characters and costumes for "Little Women," They are almost startlingly realistic.—Worcester Spy.

Miss Alcott's books have never before had such an attractive typographical dress as the present. They are printed in large type on heavy paper, artistically bound, and illustrated with many full-page drawings.—Philadelphia Press.

LITTLE, BROWN, & COMPANY
Publishers, 254 WASHINGTON STREET, BOSTON, MASS.