life in my dream, Janet, and the sweetness of forgotten words."

"Wasn't it strange about MY dream?" whispered the Story Girl to me.

"Well, you'd better come in and have some breakfast," said Aunt Janet.
"These are my little girls--Felicity and Cecily."

"I remember them as two most adorable tots," said Uncle Blair, shaking
hands. "They haven't changed quite so much as my own baby-child. Why,
she's a woman, Janet--she's a woman."

"She's child enough still," said Aunt Janet hastily.

The Story Girl shook her long brown curls.

"I'm fifteen," she said. "And you ought to see me in my long dress,
father."

"We must not be separated any longer, dear heart," I heard Uncle Blair
say tenderly. I hoped that he meant he would stay in Canada--not that he
would take the Story Girl away.

Apart from this we had a gay day with Uncle Blair. He evidently liked
our society better than that of the grown-ups, for he was a child
himself at heart, gay, irresponsible, always acting on the impulse of
the moment. We all found him a delightful companion. There was no
school that day, as Mr. Perkins was absent, attending a meeting of
the Teachers' Convention, so we spent most of its golden hours in the
orchard with Uncle Blair, listening to his fascinating accounts of
foreign wanderings. He also drew all our pictures for us, and this was
especially delightful, for the day of the camera was only just dawning
and none of us had ever had even our photographs taken. Sara Ray's
pleasure was, as usual, quite spoiled by wondering what her mother
would say of it, for Mrs. Ray had, so it appeared, some very peculiar
prejudices against the taking or making of any kind of picture
whatsoever, owing to an exceedingly strict interpretation of the second
commandment. Dan suggested that she need not tell her mother anything
about it; but Sara shook her head.

"I'll have to tell her. I've made it a rule to tell ma everything I do
ever since the Judgment Day."

"Besides," added Cecily seriously, "the Family Guide says one ought to
tell one's mother everything."

"It's pretty hard sometimes, though," sighed Sara. "Ma scolds so much
when I do tell her things, that it sort of discourages me. But when I
think of how dreadful I felt the time of the Judgment Day over deceiving
her in some things it nerves me up. I'd do almost anything rather than
feel like that the next time the Judgment Day comes."

"Fe, fi, fo, fum, I smell a story," said Uncle Blai