st keeping the
present generation going, to think much about the past, and the world
they live in rushes too fast to stop to think that Timmy Finnegan,
maybe's, going to rob a bank because his great-great-grandfather, over
in County Cork, ran off with a pig.

"It is too late in the evening to philosophize, and I mustn't let my
wick burn too low or Aunt Sabrina will know I'm using the midnight oil.
Don't be cross, dear Claire, if you don't hear from me every day;
although you might suppose that up here I'd have a great deal of
leisure time, somehow each day seems to bring something unexpected.
And as I said on page 2 of this voluminous letter, I am growing fond of
Happy House and there is a sort of fascination about everything here.
Dear Anne, with her noble dreams, never longed to bring about the
reforms that I do! One is to throw out the dreadful waxed flowers and
peacock feathers and old grasses from Happy House and fill the vases
with fresh flowers. Another is to sweep through the whole blessed
village and open every blind and let in today!

"And then when I'm bursting with my longing to make the whole world
better, I'm suddenly reminded that I'm just a little next-to-nothing
that can't even remember to act grown-up, masquerading in our Anne's
shoes and daring to find flaws in Miss Sabrina Leavitt with all the
noble heritage of Leavitt tradition flowing in her veins.

"Good night, littlest pal, I wish I could be with you long enough for a
good, long gossip. But, by and by--"

CHAPTER XI

MOONSHINE AND FAIRIES

"Good-evening, yellow Buttercups
Good-evening, daisies white,
Tell me, have you met the Moon-Queen
On this pretty night?"

The little singer made a sweeping courtesy.

"How d'you do, Miss Buttercup? Do come here now and meet Mrs. Moon!"
With a gesture of exaggerated elegance she led an imaginary Buttercup
out to a pool of silver where the bright moonlight slanted through the
branches of an apple tree.

"Now, everybody, bow to Mrs. Moon," and the fairy-hostess bent to the
ground. Then she snapped her fingers. "On with the music," she cried.
Like a spirit she danced off over the grass, now scarcely more than a
shadow among the shadows, now full in the moonlight, bending, swaying,
leaping, arms outstretched, face lifted.

But the frolic of the fairies in the moonlight came to a sad end, for a
human hand reached out from behind a tree-trunk and caught the
make-believe hostess of