tate of great excitement on
the Friday afternoon, when the phaeton arrived with Monica already
installed on the front seat. To drive away in such company was indeed a
matter for congratulation, and she felt much sympathy for the
disconsolate five who were perforce left behind, especially for poor
Cicely, who would miss her more than anybody, and whose eyes were full
of tears at the parting.

"Never mind," she whispered to the latter, "perhaps it will be your turn
next time for something nice. At any rate, I shall have heaps to tell
you when I come back."

Linforth Vicarage was a long, rambling stone house, the flagged roof and
mullioned windows of which proclaimed it as belonging, equally with the
Manor, to a period of the past. It was a delightful, roomy, almost
medieval kind of a place, so picturesque, in its old-world fashion, that
one could forgive the lowness of the rooms, the narrowness of the
passages, the steepness of the stairs, and the inconvenience of the fact
that the front door opened directly into the dining-room, and the
bedrooms nearly all led into one another. None of these drawbacks seemed
to distress the young Greenwoods, who thought their home the nicest spot
in the world. They were a particularly jolly, merry, happy-go-lucky
family, full of jokes and noise. Rhoda, for whose benefit Lindsay had
been invited, received her visitor with enthusiasm.

"I'm so glad Miss Russell let you come!" she said. "You see, Meta will
monopolize Irene and Monica, and I should have been left out altogether.
I'm delighted to have someone of my own age."

Monica was a great favourite in the household, and held in request by
all, from Mr. and Mrs. Greenwood to Cyril, the baby. As Rhoda had
prophesied, however, she disappeared after tea with Meta and Irene, the
three elder girls evidently wishing to have a chat in private. Rhoda
made an effort to secure Lindsay to herself, but the four little
ones--Wilfred, Alwyn, Joan, and Cyril--begged so piteously not to be
banished from the society of the interesting visitor that in the end she
yielded, and allowed them to help to exhibit the various treasures in
the garden which she wished to show to her new friend.

The Greenwoods had quite a menagerie in the way of pets. They kept them
in a disused stable, in neat cages with wire fronts, most of which had
been made by Ralph and Leonard. There were silky-haired, lop-eared
rabbits, that could be hugged in small arms without offeri