, she had been so frightened and now--she was not a bit afraid.
She was even glad he had come when the garden looked so pretty, when
Aunt Sabrina was so proudly garbed in her best silk, when Aunt Milly,
all pink and white, with Nonie perched on the arm of her chair, was
leaning over explaining some intricate stitch in a bit of embroidery to
Liz, to whom embroidery was not less remote than Sanskrit literature.

Mrs. Sniggs and Mrs. Todd were staring, open-mouthed, first at the
stranger, then at the cream-and-purple car at the gate.

Nancy's spirits that had dropped to such depths behind the syringa
bushes soared again. At last her moment had come! The master was
declaring his delight in having chosen such a happy afternoon to come
to Happy House; he admired the garden, and the old house; he admitted
to a great curiosity concerning the Islands--he had never visited them
before.

Nancy left him with Aunt Sabrina. Aunt Sabrina would manage to tell
him a great deal--Nancy, watching, knew just when she left the Indians
and the burning of Freedom and began on Ethan Allen and the Green
Mountain Boys and the coming of Benedict Arnold and his flagship to the
Island.

"He'll love her," she whispered to Peter Hyde, nodding toward where the
master leaned with deep attention over Miss Sabrina's chair. "Look me
square in the eye, Peter! _Did_ you know he was coming to-day?"

"On my honor, I didn't. Is the play ready?"

"All ready, in a nice fat envelope. For goodness sake, look at Webb!"

Webb, returning from the house where he had hurried to tell B'lindy of
the coming of the distinguished guest ("Don' know who he is nor whar he
come from, but he's got one of them thur autymobiles that's bigger'n a
steam enjine and a fellar drivin' it thet's dressed up like a circus
lady") was standing in the path wildly gesticulating with one hand to
attract Nancy's attention and with the other clapped over his mouth to
suppress the laughter that was plainly shaking his entire body.

Nancy and Peter turned to see what had so convulsed him. Up the road
toward the gate were approaching three separate groups of women, all
coming hurriedly, breathlessly, with a great deal of chatter and
fussing with hats and gloves.

Mrs. Maria Slade, behind her blind had seen the purple and
cream-colored car. So had Miss Merry, across the street; so had a
dozen others from behind their entrenchments. Simultaneously, in as
many hearts, the urge of cur