arde, with a shudder half real, half
playful. "I wouldn't go back there now for the half of my kingdom. Let
me see! We will not tell Cousin Wealthy to-day--"

"Oh, no!" cried Rose, shrinking at the bare thought.

"Nor even to-morrow, perhaps," continued Hildegarde. "She would be
frightened, and might expect you to be ill; we will wait a day or two
before we tell her. But Martha is not nervous. We can tell her
to-morrow, and say that we will get another basket. After all, we were
doing no harm,--none in the world."

But the best-laid plans, as we all know, "gang aft agley;" and the
girls were not to have the telling of their adventure in their own way.

That evening, as they were sitting on the piazza after tea, they heard
Miss Wealthy's voice, saying, "Martha, there is some one coming up the
front walk,--an aged man, apparently. Will you see who it is, please?
Perhaps he wants food, for I see he has a basket."

Hildegarde and Rose looked at each other in terror.

"Oh, Hilda!" whispered Rose, catching her friend's hand, "it must be he!
What shall we do?"

"Hush!" said Hildegarde. "Listen, and don't be a goose! Do? what should
he do to us? He might recite the 'Curse of Kehama,' but it isn't likely
he knows it."

Martha, who had been reconnoitring through a crack of the window-blind,
now uttered an exclamation. "Well, of all! Mam, it's old Galusha
Pennypacker, as sure as you stand there."

"Is it possible?" said Miss Wealthy, in a tone of great surprise.
"Martha, you _must_ be mistaken. Galusha Pennypacker coming here. Why
_should_ he come here?"

But for once Martha was not ready to answer her mistress, for she had
gone to open the door.

The girls listened, with clasped hands and straining ears.

"Why, Mr. Pennypacker!" they heard Martha say. "This is never you?"

Then a shrill, cracked voice broke in, speaking very slowly, as if
speech were an unaccustomed effort. "Is there--two gals--here?"

"Two gals?" repeated Martha, in amazement. "What two gals?"

"Gals!" said the old man's voice,--"one on 'em highty-tighty,
fly-away-lookin', 'n' the other kind o' 'pindlin'; drivin' your hoss,
they was."

"Why--yes!" said Martha, more and more astonished. "What upon earth--"

"Here's their basket!" the old man continued; "tell 'em I--relished the
victuals. Good-day t' ye!"

Then came the sound of a stick on the steps, and of shuffling feet on
the gravel; and the next moment Miss Wealthy and Martha were gazing