don't be eternally dragging in the cost of
things.... I didn't bring you up here for that.... But tell me if you
think Arethusa will like it."

"Like it! Ye gods! Think of the Farm! And the woman asks if Arethusa
will like it!"

But Arethusa's actual coming was postponed by Miss Eliza for various
reasons several times. The correspondence on this subject was all
between her and Elinor, for Miss Eliza wrote a stilted, old-fashioned
hand, not easy to read, which Ross's impatience refused to take the
time to decipher.

First, it was hard finding suitable company for Arethusa,--no date
could be fixed until that was settled; and then Miss Letitia had a
little spell of illness and the making of the clothes was interrupted;
and so on. But the last postponement, until late October, was the
Worthingtons' own fault. It was far too hot in Lewisburg that
September, so off they scurried to the seashore before Arethusa was
nearly ready to join them.

"Just like Ross Worthington," said Miss Eliza, grimly, when the letter
telling of this move reached the Farm. "He just can't stay put. I
reckon the Lord didn't make the place where he'd be happy long at a
time."

CHAPTER VIII

Arethusa sat on a big, smooth stone at the edge of the Branch, under
the low-drooping willow tree that leaned far over those clear waters,
and absent-mindedly flipped at the water with a long switch broken from
the tree. Under the stone it was cool shadow and the rocks on the
bottom of the Branch gleamed invitingly green. Something like a
fresh-water seaweed moved slowly back and forth, as Arethusa stirred
the water above it. But for all its inviting appearance, it was
treacherously slimy. It would have been hard for even nimble-footed
Arethusa to keep her balance on those rocks. A tiny snake darted out
from under the big stone and shot across to the other side; Arethusa
leaned far over to watch it.

"A baby snake," she exclaimed delightedly. "I wonder if there're any
more!" Then she poked farther back under the stone, but no more
appeared. It was probably the only child in its family, thought
Arethusa. It was rather late for baby snakes.

She straightened up once more and resumed her absent-minded switching
at the water. Farther out, where the shadow of the weeping willow did
not reach, the sunlight shone with dazzling brightness on the water,
and the hundreds of little drops that flew off the end of Arethusa's
switch gleamed like tiny diamonds