byfil, I'd put my arm around you anyway, and make love to
you."

Then Martha drew Betty close and gave her a sleepy kiss. "No you
wouldn't, dear," she murmured, and soon the two were peacefully
sleeping, Betty's troubles quite forgotten. Still, when morning came,
she did not confide to her sister anything about Peter Junior, and she
even whispered to her mother not to mention a word of the affair to
any one.

At breakfast Jamie and Bobby were turbulent with delight. All outings
were a joy to them, no matter how often they came. Martha was neat and
rosy and gay. Lucien Thurbyfil wanted to help her by wiping the
dishes, but she sent him out to the sweet-apple tree with a basket,
enjoining him to bring only the mellow ones. "Be sure to get enough.
We're all going, father and mother and all."

"It's very nice of your people to make room for me on the wagon."

"And it's nice of you to go."

"I see Peter Junior. He's coming," shouted Bobby, from the top of the
sweet-apple tree.

"Who does he go with?" asked Martha.

"With us. He always does," said Betty. "I wonder why his mother and
the Elder never go out for any fun, the way you and father do!"

"The Elder always has to be at the bank, I suppose," said Mary
Ballard, "and she wouldn't go without him. Did you put in the salt and
pepper for the eggs, dear?"

"Yes, mother. I'm glad father isn't a banker."

"It takes a man of more ability than I to be a banker," said Bertrand,
laughing, albeit with concealed pride.

"We don't care if it does, Dad," said Jamie, patronizingly. "When I
get through the high school, I'm going to hire out to the bank." He
seized the lunch basket and marched manfully out to the wagon.

"I thought Peter Junior always went with Clara Dean. He did when I
left," said Martha, in a low voice to Betty, as they filled bottles
with raspberry shrub, and with cream for the coffee. "Did you tie
strings on the spoons, dear? They'll get mixed with the Walters' if
you don't. You remember theirs are just like ours."

"Oh, I forgot. Why, he likes Clara a lot, of course, but I guess they
just naturally expected him to go with us. They and the Walters have
a wagon together, anyway, and they wouldn't have room. We have one all
to ourselves. Hello, Peter Junior! Mr. Thurbyfil, this is Mr.
Junior."

"Happy to meet you, Mr. Junior," said the correct Mr. Thurbyfil. The
boys laughed uproariously, and the rest all smiled, except Betty, who
was grave and really