ed.

CHAPTER X.

UP THE GULCH.

"I do believe every-day things are pleasantest, after all," said Allie
contentedly.

It was a month after their camping party, and she and her mother were
comfortably settled in the parlor, with the mending basket between them.
The windows and doors were thrown wide open, and the room was flooded
with the yellow sunlight that lay across the floor, while the warm
September wind softly fluttered the light draperies. Outside the door,
on the piazza, Ben lay snoozing in the sun, sleepily wagging his tail in
some happy dream of full-flavored bones or trespassing cats; and beyond
him Victor was trudging up and down the path in front of the house,
laden with a tiny scarlet pail filled with sand. Allie glanced
thoughtfully about the pretty room, and out at her baby brother; then
she turned back to her mother again, as Mrs. Burnam asked,--

"How do you mean, Allie?"

"Why, after all our camping and fun, it seems good to sit down and
visit a little, mammy. Don't you see, we haven't had a chance for ever
so long, not since Charlie was hurt; and I enjoy it, once in a while.
The other is fun; but I like to stop and talk it over sometimes." And
Allie paused meditatively, with one of Howard's long stockings drawn
over her hand.

"Yes, I know," her mother answered, while she trimmed a patch to fit the
hole which it was intended to fill; "we haven't had a quiet afternoon
for a long time, hardly since Charlie came out here, last spring. You've
been so busy with the boys that I didn't know whether you'd ever enjoy
sitting down with me any more."

"Yes, this is nicest," said Allie. "The boys aren't you, any more than
Charlie is Howard. I like them both; but I need you to straighten out
things sometimes."

"What is it now?" asked her mother quietly, for she saw from Allie's
face that something was troubling her, and, mother-like, she wished to
help her little daughter.

"Why, it isn't so much; only something that Grant was telling, something
Mrs. Pennypoker said," answered Allie, while she threaded her needle and
stuck it in beside the hole. Then she asked abruptly, "Mamma, is it
true that Charlie has ever so much money?"

"Yes; that is, he will have, when he grows up," replied Mrs. Burnam, a
little surprised at the question, for she had tried to train her
children to feel that wealth was by no means the main end in life.

"How much?" persisted Allie.

"A great deal, for Uncle Charli