s always came to the
side entrance.

"Who can it be at this hour of the morning?" cried Claribel, dropping
her iron and clutching at her light curly hair, which was always in
pretty disorder. "We're none of us dressed to meet strangers. Run, Mam
Daphne! How fortunate you are here to go to the door!"

A moment later the old coloured woman was fumbling at the long unused
bolts, while the girls listened breathlessly at the dining-room door.
It was a lady's voice that reached them. Evidently some one who had
been at the house in its palmy days, for she recognised Mam Daphne as
an old servant.

"I want to see all the young ladies, Daphne," she said. "Tell them
that it is Mrs. Gorham, their mother's old friend and schoolmate, from
Lexington. Tell them I am on my way to Louisville, and have taken the
liberty of stopping off to spend the day, without sending them word."
Then, as if to herself, they heard her say: "I've lived in Kentucky
too long, and enjoyed Alice Mason's hospitality too often not to be
sure of a welcome from her daughters."

Wilma sank down limply in a disconsolate heap on the floor. "Oh,
sister, what _shall_ we do?" she whispered to Agnes. "_Must_ we give
up the picnic, and that glorious ride home by moonlight, when it's
probably the only outing of the kind we'll have this summer? The boys
were going to take their banjos and mandolins, and they counted on us
to help serenade--"

Claribel interrupted her with a grim face. "There's no help for it.
Don't you see, Wilma, that we've got to give it up? Don't you know
that everything fit to eat in the house went into that picnic basket?
We can't go without it, and we can't take it and leave sister to
entertain the company without its help. But oh, it's certainly too
provoking! Why, of all days in the year, should she drop down on us
to-day, when this is the first time she has been here since we were
out of the nursery!"

"I'm afraid there's nothing left for us to do but to keep up the old
traditions, and entertain her in the best style we can, dears," said
Agnes, gently. "Poor mamma's best friend must be showed the
hospitality that she always found here. But, oh, girls, I _did_ hope
to finish that book to-day! It may be weeks before I'm keyed up to
the pitch again where I feel equal to writing the climax as it should
be done."

There were tears in Wilma's eyes as she carried the lunch-basket into
the pantry, but she giggled as, passing the old portraits on