mission to leave her room, which she did in Aunt Jane's second-best
wheel chair.

Her first trip was to Aunt Jane's own private garden, where the
invalid, who had not seen her niece since the accident, had asked her
to come.

Patsy wanted Kenneth to wheel her, but the boy, with a touch of his
old surly demeanor, promptly refused to meet Jane Merrick face to
face. So Beth wheeled the chair and Louise walked by Patsy's side, and
soon the three nieces reached their aunt's retreat.

Aunt Jane was not in an especially amiable mood.

"Well, girl, how do you like being a fool?" she demanded, as Patsy's
chair came to a stand just opposite her own.

"It feels so natural that I don't mind it," replied Patsy, laughing.

"You might have killed yourself, and all for nothing," continued the
old woman, querulously.

Patsy looked at her pityingly. Her aunt's face had aged greatly in the
two weeks, and the thin gray hair seemed now almost white.

"Are you feeling better, dear?" asked the girl.

"I shall never be better," said Jane Merrick, sternly. "The end is not
far off now."

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear you say that!" said Patsy; "but I hope it is
not true. Why, here are we four newly found relations all beginning to
get acquainted, and to love one another, and we can't have our little
party broken up, auntie dear."

"Five of us--five relations," cried Uncle John, coming around the
corner of the hedge. "Don't I count, Patsy, you rogue? Why you're
looking as bright and as bonny as can be. I wouldn't be surprised if
you could toddle."

"Not yet," she answered, cheerfully. "But I'm doing finely, Uncle
John, and it won't be long before I can get about as well as ever."

"And to think," said Aunt Jane, bitterly, "that all this trouble was
caused by that miserable boy! If I knew where to send him he'd not
stay at Elmhurst a day longer."

"Why, he's my best friend, aunt," announced Patsy, quietly. "I don't
think I could be happy at Elmhurst without Kenneth."

"He has quite reformed," said Louise, "and seems like a very nice
boy."

"He's a little queer, yet, at times," added Beth, "but not a bit rude,
as he used to be."

Aunt Jane looked from one to the other in amazement. No one had
spoken so kindly of the boy before in years. And Uncle John, with a
thoughtful look on his face, said slowly:

"The fact is, Jane, you've never given the boy a chance. On the
contrary, you nearly ruined him by making a hermit of him and giving