," she answered.

He went down and joined her in the garden, thinking what a difference she
made in the place. He had not supposed a girl of twelve could be so
charming; but then, she was his brother's daughter, with something of her
father about her, and he had felt a little boy's admiration for this older
brother.

Rosalind told him it was almost like having father or Cousin Louis to talk
to; and as they wandered about the garden Allan found himself feeling
flattered at her evident pleasure in his society.

She brought out her treasured book to show him, and explained about the
Forest; and Allan listened absently, noting the soft curve of her cheek
and the length of the dark lashes, his memory going back to that one
occasion when he had seen the gentle and lovely girl who was afterward his
brother's wife.

"And now we must go to the magician's," said Rosalind.

Not many of the inhabitants of Friendship were abroad in the middle of a
summer afternoon, and they had the street almost to themselves when they
set out. The quiet, the bowed shutters, the deserted porches, suggested a
universal nap. Allan looked up at the tall maples, whose branches met
across the road just as they had done in his childhood. Truly, there was a
charm about the old town, with its homelike dwellings and generous
gardens, he acknowledged to himself. "I believe we are the only people
awake," he remarked.

"The magician will be awake," Rosalind replied; and so he was, rubbing
down the clock case to-day, but by no means too much occupied for company,
and he welcomed his visitors cordially, saying Allan was one of his boys.

Rosalind was amazed at the ease and rapidity with which her uncle talked
with the cabinet-maker.

"Have you come home to stay this time, Mr. Allan?" Morgan asked.

Allan laughed, and said he did not know about that.

"Two--four--eight years--" the magician told them off on his fingers,
shaking his head. "Too long. Take root somewhere, Mr. Allan; too much
travel spoils you. Your father loved Friendship."

"Yes," said Allan, gravely.

"You make him join the society," Morgan said, turning to Rosalind.

"He means our secret society," she explained. "He belongs, and he has our
motto on the wall," and she drew her uncle to the door of the back room
and pointed it out.

"Oh, I remember Morgan's motto, 'Good in everything.' Does one have to
subscribe to that in order to join this society?"

[Illustration: "THEY CROSSED