ressive way to the grief of the mourners; and it was not until the
little house had been left far behind that the awe was lifted from
their spirits, and the joy of childhood reasserted itself.

They had reached a road bordered with trees that almost met above them,
forming a long green arbor into which the sunlight stole through every
little chink, and Ivy was moving along almost forgetful of her
crutches, her eyes intent on the green loveliness of the place and the
pretty pink parasol with white lace trimmings which Alene carried, when
suddenly the latter gave a shrill scream and threw the parasol away
from her as far as she could.

Immediately the others gathered around, while she stood grimacing,
saying nothing but "Ugh! Ugh!" to all their questions. They were
greatly puzzled, until someone picked up the pink parasol at which its
owner pointed so tragically, to find that all the fuss was caused by
two caterpillars which had fallen from the trees.

"'Fraid cat!" said Hugh, contemptuously; "I've seen little tads of four
and five let 'em crawl up their bare arms!"

"I'm not a 'fraid cat! But those ugly, crawly things make me feel
creepy!" Alene returned with crimsoning cheeks.

"Those ugly things, as you call them, turn into beautiful butterflies!"
returned Hugh, in a tone that to Alene sounded offensively
preacher-like.

"Well, let them wait until they are butterflies before perching on my
parasol," she retorted.

"It's just one's nerves! They _are_ ugly things, and Alene's not used
to seeing them," said Laura.

"And they say the great Napoleon couldn't bear to touch velvet, and he
was no coward!" cried Ivy, who felt that her brother was often unjust
to Alene.

In spite of their protests, Hugh had his own opinion in the matter.
There are some boys to whom Alene's timidity would have appealed, but
he was not one of that kind. He was the most outspoken and the least
gentle of all the boys with whom the Happy-Go-Luckys associated. But
his downright honesty and fearlessness, his renown among the boys as an
athlete, and especially his devotion to his little sister which Laura
dilated upon, and of which new proofs were daily shown, had awakened
Alene's admiration, and made her the more resent his calling her a
coward.

"I've stumbled over my toe!" wailed little Lois, carrying the stubbed
toe and tearstained face to Laura for repairs.

Mat ran to stroke the offending stone with an exaggerated air of
sympa