I get around pretty good in this
chair and I have lots of books and papers to read; but I like to talk
and summers everyone is so busy they don't think to drop in."

"I'll drop in," promised Rosemary impulsively. "Mother would come to
see you, too, but she couldn't walk this far; perhaps Hugh, my brother,
will bring her some day."

"Let me have my knitting, if you're really going," said Miss Clinton
regretfully. "It's there in that basket beside you. That's my sixth
bedspread, or will be, when I get it finished."

"What beautiful work!" exclaimed Rosemary as the old lady spread the
knitted square over her knee. "How fine it is--isn't it very
difficult?"

"Not a bit," Miss Clinton assured her. "I do it when my eyes get tired
of reading print. I'll teach you how to make a spread, if you'll come
see me now and then," she offered quickly. "They tell me they're worth
seventy-five dollars apiece but I never sell mine; I give them to
relatives and friends."

Rosemary and Shirley said good by and were half way down the path when
the door was opened and Miss Clinton called after them:

"Bring the little girl with you, too; I'll get her something new to
play with when she gets tired of the cabinet toys."

"Rosemary," said Shirley, skipping happily--she seldom walked, her
brother said, but ran or hopped her way along--"Rosemary, what is
there?"

"Where?" said Rosemary, puzzled.

"_There,_" insisted Shirley, pointing behind her.

"Why, nothing--except Miss Clinton's house--you know that, Shirley,"
replied Rosemary.

"No, not Miss Clinton's house," said Shirley, shaking her head. "Next
to that, Rosemary."

"You mean around the curve?" asked Rosemary, for the road curved
sharply beyond the big maples that marked the line of Miss Clinton's
property.

Shirley nodded.

"What is there?" she repeated.

"I don't know, dear," Rosemary admitted. "I've never been that far.
Do you want to go and see? We have time, I think."

Shirley slipped a small hand into her sister's.

"Let's go," she said eagerly.

Rosemary had often felt a curiosity to know what was beyond a bend in a
road, but she never remembered making a deliberate attempt to gratify
that feeling. Shirley, having been made curious, had no mind to go
away unsatisfied.

They turned and walked back, Rosemary hoping the little old lady might
not see them. But she was nowhere in sight and was, in all
probability, absorbed in her knitting.

"Maybe th