n idle, Amy. Anyway, you've got on
splendid. The 'Supe' says he never had a girl go ahead so fast. Isn't it
grand, though, to be out of the mill this lovely day? Saturday-half
means ever so much more fun now than it used to do, and doesn't cost
half so much money. Don't worry you half so much either, as it did to go
shopping all the time. Say, Amy, I've about got Mis' Hackett paid up."

"I'm delighted; it must be wretched to feel one's self in debt, I
think."

"It's mighty nice to feel one's self out of it. I've got you to thank
for that, too, 'long of lots of other things. Isn't the club doing fine?
We wouldn't have had that, either, but for you."

"Nonsense! Indeed, you would. Hallam was as interested as I in the
subject; and as soon as we told Uncle Fred, he was even more eager than
we. But it is to father we all owe the most, I think."

"So do I. To dream of a splendid gentleman like him, and such a painter,
taking so much time and trouble just for a lot of mill folks, I think
it's grand. I don't understand how he can."

"Seeing that his own two children are 'mill folks,' I can, readily,"
answered Amy, laughing. "But, indeed, I know he would go on with it now
just as thoroughly, even if we were not in the case at all."

This talk occurred one lovely afternoon when the half-holiday made a
club picnic a possible and most delightful thing. The two girls,
Gwendolyn and Amy, were a little earlier than the others, and were on
their way to the appointed meeting place, "Treasure Island," a small
piece of wooded ground rising in the middle of the Ardsley's widest
span. From the island to the banks, on either side, were foot-bridges,
and in the grove tables and benches had been built by the lads of the
organization. It was an ideal picnic ground, and these were ideal
picnickers; for those who toil the hardest on most days of the week
enter most heartily into the recreations they do secure.

The girls were passing down into the glen where Amy had once lost her
way and been rescued by Fayette. It seemed so long ago that she could
hardly realize how few months had really elapsed.

She spoke of the matter to her companion, who seemed to be in a
reflective mood that afternoon, and who again remarked upon the change
in the mill boy, also.

"Your uncle and Cleena Keegan have made him different, too. He's as
proud as Punch of his mushroom raising, isn't he? He owes that to Mister
Fred; but, odd! he's as scared of Cleena as