g Sam's friends and mine in Hayesboro.

I put the case to them plainly and movingly. Here was a young and
distinguished genius coming to settle down in Hayesboro to rescue his
play, and it was the duty of everybody to help him in every way. The
first thing he had to have was shelter, and we ought to all help Sam as
much as we could to provide it for him. He was willing to stay with us
for a few days, on mother's invitation, which I had to hide nine
crochet-needles to make her write him, but he wrote that his "spirit
panted for the wilderness," and if he felt that way about it he ought to
be settled in the cabin as soon as possible.

"Why, of course," said Julia, with large and responsive enthusiasm, "we
must just all turn in and help Sam. I never helped build a house, but if
you can, Betty, so can I."

"I can make curtains and things and cushions for chairs," said Edith,
with no less enthusiasm than Julia's. "I have a lovely bureau-scarf all
finished and--"

"Chairs--bureau!" I fairly gasped. "Neither Sam nor I had thought of
furniture. Sam paid a big note in the bank for the cows and mule, and
how can he buy more stock like chairs and bureaus and beds?"

"Why, hasn't Sam got furniture? The Crittenden house had the loveliest
in Hayesboro," asked Edith, plaintively.

"He's sold it; Sam is poor," I answered, proudly. "He hasn't got
anything but Mammy and Byrd and the other stock, and places for all to
sleep and eat and keep warm. Now what are we going to do?"

"He wouldn't let us buy him anything, would he?" asked Sue,
thoughtfully.

"I know Sam better than that," said Edith.

"I'll tell you," I exclaimed, suddenly and radiantly. "Of course, we
can't give Sam anything, but I believe--I believe that if I asked him
very kindly he would let us make a kind of museum of affection of
Peter's room and take all the lovely things we can borrow from people to
put in the shack to help inspire him. Mother will let me start with
Grandmother Nelson's desk, though it is dearer than life to me; and I
know she'll crochet him a lamp-mat before he gets here--maybe several,
if she likes the pattern she starts on."

"Do you remember that mahogany table in my room?" exclaimed Julia,
several minutes lost in deep reflection. "It is real Chippendale, Aunt
Amanda says, and I'll send that out. Oh, to think of a poet laying his
pen down on it! Or does he use a pencil?"

And it is true that from very small beginnings great trees grow. In