you--to forgive me--was by
bringing them all back with me."

But Nancy had no intention of forgiving--at least, at once--the trick
that had been played upon her. She lifted her chin with meaning
disdain and turned to the others.

"Let's go up to the house. My aunts will be so glad to see you all,"
and slipping one hand through her father's arm and another into Anne's
she turned up the path, leaving Claire and her brother to follow.

Miss Sabrina had seen the car stop at the gate and had come to the
door. She knew at once that this was Nancy's father. A color swept
her cheeks and faded. She tried to say some word of welcome but her
trembling lips could not frame a single syllable. But almost instantly
her fears were set at rest, for Eugene Leavitt took her two hands in
his clasp and lightly kissed her cheek in a cheery way that put aside
forever the trouble that had separated them.

In the hub-bub and chatter that followed, Nancy did not realize that
Peter Hyde had slipped away; not until Aunt Sabrina had carried her
father off to Aunt Milly's room and B'lindy, radiant, had gone back to
the kitchen to prepare a supper "fit for folks," leaving the three
chums together. Claire gave her friend an affectionate shake.

"Now, Nancy Leavitt, don't be silly and stay cross at Barry. It's my
fault. I knew he was here and that you were here, and that he knew you
and you knew him, and neither of you----"

"Please, please Claire," begged Nancy, trying to stop her friend. Her
face turned scarlet. Of course she could not be offended at his
deception, had she not, herself, been masquerading? But burning in her
mind was the recollection of that afternoon when she had opened her
heart to Peter and had told him how she despised Barry Wallace and his
kind. And he had let her talk--she could not forgive that, ever.

"After you'd been here a few weeks," Claire went on, "Barry wrote to
me. I suppose he'd gotten to the point where he simply had to confide
in someone. You can imagine, I nearly dropped when I saw the postmark
and knew what he was doing, but picture how I felt when he wrote that
he'd met the 'best girl ever--no frills and fropperies like mother's
crowd, but a regular girl.' Of course I knew he meant you. I let him
write a few more letters--I don't think Barry ever wrote so often to me
before--and then, I told him everything."

"You did?" exclaimed Nancy. "Then----" she stopped short. Now she
understood