held in her hand, while her playmate's eyes were soft and brown, and
told that her heart was loving and true.

The little blue-eyed girl was Dorothy Dainty, and the child who clasped
her hand was her dearest friend, Nancy Ferris.

Nancy had no parents, and a few years before Dorothy's mamma had taken
her under her care and protection, and she was being trained and
educated as carefully as was Dorothy, the little daughter of the house.

They had come to the Hotel Cleverton to spend the summer, and the first
few days of their stay, they had explored all the land that lay
immediately around the hotel, and had found many beautiful spots, but
one thing held their interest,--they loved the echo, and never tired of
awakening it.

"Come!" cried Dorothy. "Run with me over to the white birches, and we'll
shout, and listen!"

Mrs. Dainty had told them the story of Echo, the nymph, who for loving
Pan and following him and calling to him had been changed into a huge
rock on the mountainside, and forever compelled to mock each voice she
heard.

The old legend of the nymph had caught their fancy, and often they
paused in their play to shout, and listen to what seemed to them the
voice of some fairy of the mountains.

Now they stood beside the birches, Dorothy with one arm around a white
trunk, and Nancy near her. At their feet were countless bluebells,
overhead the blue sky, while across and beyond the valley rose the
mountain capped by white clouds that looked as soft as swan's-down.

"Here! Here!" cried Dorothy, and echo answered, "Here,--ere!"

"Listen!" cried Dorothy, clasping her hands, and laughing with delight.
"It answers as if it was a truly voice that heard and replied.

"Nancy, I love you!" she cried, and again they plainly heard:--

"Love you-oo!"

They thought it great fun to shout and call, and hear their cries so
cleverly repeated.

And now another child ran out from the great doorway, paused a moment as
if looking for some one, then, seeing the two little figures near the
clump of birches, stole softly near them.

On tiptoe, and with tread as soft and noiseless as a cat, she made her
way over the short grass, until she was quite near them. Then, hiding
behind a low bush, she watched them. How still she stood! For what was
she waiting? Her bold eyes were full of mischief, as she whispered, "Oh,
hurry _up_!"

Dorothy Dainty put her hands to her mouth, trumpet fashion, and called:

"Come and catch us!