f as often
as she came to him. She seemed to prefer Linwood to the farmhouse,
staying there hours, both when he was at home and when he was away,
strolling through his garden, or sitting quietly in the pleasant
summer-house which looked out upon the pond.

Those September days were happy ones to Katy, who, freed from all
restraint, became a child again--a petted, spoiled child, whom every one
caressed and suffered to have her way. To Uncle Ephraim it was as if
some bright angel had suddenly dropped into his path, flooding it with
sunshine, and making him so glad to have back his "Katy-did," who went
with him to the fields, waiting patiently till his work was done, and
telling him of all the wondrous things she saw abroad, but speaking
little of her city life. That was something she did not care to talk
about, and but for Wilford's letters, and the frequent mention of baby,
the deacon could easily have imagined that Katy had never left him. But
these were barriers between the old life and the present, these were the
insignia of Mrs. Wilford Cameron, who was watched and envied by the
curious Silvertonians, and pronounced charming by them all. Still there
was one drawback to Katy's happiness. She missed her child, mourning for
it so much that her family, quite as anxious as herself to see it,
suggested her sending for it. It would surely take no harm with them,
and Marian would come with it. To this plan Katy listened more willingly
from the fact that Wilford had gone West, and the greater the distance
between them the more she dared to do. And so Marian Hazelton was one
day startled at the sudden appearance at the cottage of Katy, who had
come to take her and baby to Silverton.

There was no resisting the vehemence of Katy's arguments, and before the
next day's sunsetting, the farmhouse, usually so quiet and orderly, had
been turned into one general nursery, where Baby Cameron reigned
supreme, screaming with delight at the tinware which Aunt Betsy brought
out from the cake cutter to the dipper, the little creature beating a
noisy tattoo upon the latter with an iron spoon, and then for diversion
burying its fat dimpled hands in Uncle Ephraim's long white hair, for
the old man went down upon all fours to do his great-grand niece homage.

That night Morris came up, stopping suddenly as a loud baby laugh
reached him, even across the orchard, and leaning for a moment against
the wall, while he tried to prepare himself for th