gave an exclamation of satisfaction.

"It's cleared off, after all," he said. "It's going to be a ripping
fine day tomorrow."

They crowded to the big window, and saw, through the wet flicker of
tiny sprouting leaves, a wind-swept sky with racing clouds and
brilliant stars blazing in the dark, serene spaces between the hurrying
masses of billowy vapor.

Judith clapped her hands. "We'll go, won't we, Bruce, and Elinor, and
Miss Jinny?" she asked, whirling to each authority in turn. "We'll see
dear, delectable Greycroft and have our picnic in the barn?"

"And the pup-pup-pergola, too," added Patricia mischievously.

Miss Jinny meditated for a moment. "I don't believe I'll go," she
said. "I'm going back in another day or so, and mama and I will have
enough of Rockham anyway. I'll stay with her and finish that library
book that Mr. Spicer lent me. It's overdue now, anyway."

So it was arranged that the four of them, Elinor, Patricia, Judith, and
Bruce, should take the early train to Rockham and spend the day in
adjusting matters at Greycroft for their return the following Saturday,
coming back to town in the late afternoon or early evening.

Just as they had finished, to their great satisfaction the studio
knocker sounded the quick double knock that always heralded Griffin,
and Judith flew to welcome her.

"I didn't ring," she explained, standing on the little blue rug by the
umbrella stand, and jabbing her dripping umbrella into the stand. "The
hall door was open and I came right in." She hesitated, and then
rushed on, directing most of her speech to Elinor. "Geraldine Leighton
is dying, they say, and I thought we might each send a little note to
Doris--she's awfully alone, now that Mrs. Leighton is ill, you know.
It mightn't help her much, but it would show her that we----"

"Dying!" cried Patricia, aghast. "Why they said she was better this
morning."

Judith crept near to Mrs. Shelly and caught her hand close in both of
hers. The others put eager questions. Griffin, who was deeply
stirred, answered breathlessly. Suddenly, in the midst of the quiet,
home-like, cozy evening, had come tragedy and the shadow of death.

Patricia had known Geraldine Leighton in a very slight and casual way,
but with the word "dying," she became the heroic center of her hurrying
thoughts. She saw her in the dim room with Doris and the nurse and
doctor, each agonizingly intent on the slow, faltering heart-beats and
th