t's light it up, daddy,--let's light it up and see how it
burns."

And, dashing out for an armful of wood left by the builders, Freddy soon
had a glorious blaze on the new hearthstone,--a blaze that, blending with
the sunset streaming through the west windows, made things bright indeed.

"This is great!" said Freddy. "And when we have the chairs and tables and
cushions and curtains--who is going to pick out the cushions and curtains,
dad?"

"Oh, I suppose we can have them sent up from the store!" answered dad,
anticipating such matters by pushing up a big packing box to the fire, to
serve as a seat for their smiling guest.

"Oh, can't you do it, daddy?"

"George! no! I wouldn't know a curtain from a rug, my boy!"

"And you don't know about dishes or cups, or pans to make gingerbread,"
continued Freddy, the glow fading from his face as he realized all these
masculine disabilities.

"Not a thing," was dad's reply.

"Gee!" said Freddy, in a much troubled voice. "We'll be right bad off for
a real home, after all, daddy."

"Perhaps we can find a nice old black mammy who will take care of us all,"
observed daddy, his eyes twinkling almost as they used to twinkle in the
days of little Boy Blue.

"Yes, I suppose we can," said Freddy, with a wistful little sigh, "I
suppose that is what we will _have_ to do, daddy. But I wish--it's going
to be such a pretty house every other way,--I wish we could have a pretty
lady to sit at the head of the table and pour our tea."

"Would _I_ do, Freddy?" asked Miss Stella, stealing a soft little hand
into his.

"You, Miss Stella,--_you_,--_you_?" gasped Freddy. "Oh, that would be
rip-roaring, sure enough! But you couldn't,--you wouldn't!"

"I might," was the low answer; and Miss Stella arose and drew little Boy
Blue to her loving heart. "I might come if you want me very much,
Freddy,--so I promised daddy last night."

"For there is no real right home without a mother, son," said daddy; and
his arm went around to meet Miss Stella's until Freddy was locked in their
double clasp. And, looking from one glad face to the other, a thousand
rainbows seemed to burst upon his troubled sky, and little Boy Blue
understood.

So there was a wedding in the little church at Beach Cliff when the
hydrangeas were in bloom the next summer,--a wedding that drew the
Forester clan from far and near. Even the two grandmothers, after they had
inspected the Neville family tree through their lorgnettes