ndian silk made like a
little shawl, which papa had pleased himself with buying for her one day
at Liberty's shop in London. Mrs. Duncan had laughed when she saw it,
and told Betty not to dare to wear it for at least ten years; but the
color of it was marvelous in the shadowy old room. Betty threw the
shining red thing over the back of a great easy-chair and it seemed to
light the whole place. She could not help feeling more cheerful for the
sight of that gay bit of color. Then a great wish filled her heart, dear
little Betty; perhaps she could really bring some new pleasure to
Tideshead that summer! The old aunties' lives looked very gray and dull
to her young eyes; it was a dull place, perhaps, for Betty, who had
lived a long time where the brightest and busiest people were. The last
thing she thought of before she fell asleep was the little silk shawl.
She had often heard artistic people say "a bit of color;" now she had a
new idea, though a dim one, of what a bit of color might be expected to
do in every-day life. Good-night, Betty. Good-night, dear Betty, in your
best bedroom, sound asleep all the summer night and dreaming of those
you love!

IV.

TIDESHEAD.

HOWEVER old and responsible Betty Leicester felt overnight, she seemed
to return to early childhood in spite of herself next day. She must see
the old house again and chatter with Aunt Barbara about the things and
people she remembered best. She looked all about the garden, and spent
an hour in the kitchen talking to Serena and Letty while they worked
there, and then she went out to see Jonathan and a new acquaintance
called Seth Pond, an awkward young man, who took occasion to tell Betty
that he had come from way up-country where there was plenty greener'n he
was. There were a great many interesting things to see and hear in
Jonathan's and Seth's domains, and Betty found the remains of one of her
own old cubby-holes in the shed-chamber, and was touched to the heart
when she found that it had never been cleared away. She had known so
many places and so many people that it was almost startling to find
Tideshead looking and behaving exactly the same, while she had changed
so much. The garden was a most lovely place, with its long, vine-covered
summer-house, and just now all the roses were in bloom. Here was that
cherry-tree into which she and Mary Beck had climbed, decked in the
proper black shawls and bonnets and black lace veils. But where could
de