ere must be at least six
weeks of this--dish-washing and climbing hills, with good frocks on.
Six weeks, not a day longer. But she exclaimed in pretty enthusiasm
over Laura's disclosure of a bed of maidenhair fern, tasted
approvingly Tom's spring water, recited perfectly, after only one
hearing, Henry's tale of the peaks in view, and let Bruce Fearing give
her a geography lesson from the southernmost point of the hilltop.

It was only when at last she was in bed in the slant-ceilinged room,
with her candle blown out and a big moon looking in at the window,
that Elliott quite realized how forlorn she felt and how very, very
far three thousand miles from Father was actually going to seem.

The world up here in Vermont was so very still. There were no lights
except the stars, and for a person accustomed to an electrically
illuminated street only a few rods from her window, stars and a moon
merely added to the strangeness. Soft noises came from the other
rooms, sounds of people moving about, but not a sound from outside,
nothing except at intervals the cry of a mournful bird. After a while
the noises inside ceased. Elliott lay quiet, staring at the moonlit
room, and feeling more utterly miserable than she had ever felt before
in her life. Homesick? It must be that this was homesickness. And she
had been wont to laugh, actually laugh, at girls who said they were
homesick! She hadn't known that it felt like this! She hadn't known
that anything in all the world could feel as hideous as this. She knew
that in a minute she was going to cry--she couldn't help herself;
actually, Elliott Cameron was going to cry.

A gentle tap came at the door. "Are you asleep?" whispered a voice.
"May I come in?"

Laura entered, a tall white shape that looked even taller in the
moonlight.

"_Are_ you sleepy?" she whispered.

"Not in the least," said Elliott.

Laura settled softly on the foot of the bed. "I hoped you weren't.
Let's talk. Doesn't it seem a shame to waste time sleeping on a night
like this?"

Elliott tossed her a pillow. It was comforting to have Laura there, to
hear a voice saying something, no matter what it was talking about.
And Laura's voice was very pleasant and what she said was pleasant,
too.

Soon another shape appeared at the door Laura had left half-open. "It
is too fine a night to sleep, isn't it, girls?" Aunt Jessica crossed
the strip of moonlight and dropped down beside Laura.

"Are you all in here?" prese