gh she feared to wake up. Everything in the house was exactly as
she had left it. The old grandfather clock ticked out its steady song,
and the polished table reflected the shining candlesticks as of old.

Janet looked at her grandmother's door half fearfully.

"Go upstairs and take off your wraps," Martha was saying, "and then
come down. Your grandmother wants to see you before dinner."

Janet still held Phyllis's hand, as a few minutes later she knocked at
that closed door.

Mrs. Page proped herself up on her elbow and surveyed her two
granddaughters; her small bright eyes seemed more restless than ever.
They roved all over the room.

"Well, what have you got to say?" she demanded in the old querulous
tone.

"How are you, Grandmother?" Janet spoke first, and she laid her hand
timidly on the withered one that lay on the white counterpane.

"Hello, Grandmother; it's awfully nice to see you again. How are you?"
Phyllis, undaunted as always, leaned and kissed the withered cheek.

Mrs. Page laughed, a hard cackling laugh.

"You're as alike as two peas," she said, "but there's a mighty
difference. Janet, you haven't changed much," she added.

"Oh, but I have," Janet insisted, forgetting her self-consciousness for
the moment.

"Well, you don't show it," her grandmother snapped, and before Janet
could stop she heard herself saying, "Yes, Grandmother," in the
patient, respectful voice she had always used.

"How do you like us dressed alike?" Phyllis inquired cheerfully.

"Your hair's mussy," Mrs. Page replied shortly. "Why don't you braid
it?"

"Oh, but it's so much more becoming this way," laughed Phyllis.

"Fiddlesticks!" The word seemed to terminate the interview, for after
it was uttered Mrs. Page turned over, her face to the wall.

"Good night, Grandmother," Janet said softly, but Phyllis lingered long
enough to ask,

"Are you quite comfy, dear? Sha'n't I push this pillow so?" she won a
grudging "good night" for her pains.

After supper the girls went up to the widow's walk. It was a cold,
clear night, myriad stars winked down at them from the ice-blue sky,
below them the water lapped the beach incessantly, and the foam
sparkled in the starshine.

The girls watched it in silence for a minute, and then Phyllis said,

"Tell me something, Jan; does New York seem like a dream now that
you're back or does Old Chester?"

"Old Chester does," Janet replied after a little; "it all seems as
thoug