eric Kaye. I'd
have a school of scientific cookery--not by you, my Cleena, but by
somebody who hates pies and adores oatmeal and _et cetera_. No, really,
I do think the mill folks should understand more about foods and their
uses. They'd save so much money and--dyspepsia."

"Hurry up. Where do I come in?"

"At the mercantile college end of the establishment, learned brother.
There should be a splendid library, a gymnasium, a swimming pool--"

"A swimming pool on the top of Bareacre knoll!"

"Please don't interrupt, Hal. It's impolite. I'd have it--somewhere. I'd
have a paddock full of burros--"

"They're already ordered," cried Archibald, forgetting everything in his
enjoyment of her happy face.

"Am I to continue? May I let my fancy riot?"

"Yes, indeed; give thyself full freedom for once."

"Then I'd take beautiful Fairacres, that has been a happy home for
generations, and I'd make it a Happy Home, with capital letters. I'd
call to it all the tired and ailing mill folks in the country. I'd make
its disused studio and book rooms into a hospital, and where father
painted his picture of pain, that he destroyed, let all pain be soothed;
and all the other big chambers into havens of rest for other girls who,
unlike me, have no fathers, nor Uncle Freds, nor Hallams, nor Cousin
Archibalds, nor anybody. I'd have Mary Reese trained to be its Little
Mother; and Archibald Wingate should be full manager of all, beloved and
venerated, reaping the happiness he has himself bestowed; and oh,
cousin, if it might be true! and if I were not out of breath! There!
have I 'rioted' enough?"

Mr. Wingate turned his head sidewise and looked admiringly upon the
unselfish girl who had planned so much for others, and had not,
apparently, remembered to plan anything for herself.

"Yes; thee has rioted enough. But, little one, if thee pleases, if my
other kinsfolk here so please; if the dead past is indeed the dead past,
and the future may be our happy own, there is no reason under the blue
heaven why thee has not prophesied aright. What say, my friends? Shall
Amy's word be that which the Spirit has moved her to say? Shall we make
it real and tangible, this beautiful, helpful dream of hers? You are all
interested alike. You are my next of kin. After me you will inherit--or
these others whom she has named. Was Amy's word the true Word, Cuthbert?
The word Salome would have spoken?"

"It was the true Word, Archibald. Let it be as Salome'