y said slowly, "they're like the things one learns at
school; somehow, they make one realize that there truly was a
Revolutionary War. Wherever did you pick up such a lot of town
history, Tom?"

"That's telling," Tom answered.

Back up the broad, main street they went, past the pleasant village
houses, with their bright, well-kept dooryards, under the
wide-spreading trees beneath which so many generations of young folks
had come and gone; past the square, white parsonage, with its setting
of green lawn; past the old stone church, and on out into the by-roads
of the village, catching now and then a glimpse of the great lake
beyond; and now and then, down some lane, a bit of the street they had
left. They saw it all with eyes that for once had lost the
indifference of long familiarity, and were swift to catch instead its
quiet, restful beauty, helped in this, perhaps, by Shirley's very real
admiration.

The ride ended at Dr. Brice's gate, and here Tom dropped his mantle of
authority, handing all further responsibility as to the entertainment
of the party over to his sister.

Hilary was carried off to rest until supper time, and the rest
scattered about the garden, a veritable rose garden on that June
afternoon, roses being Dr. Brice's pet hobby.

"It must be lovely to _live_ in the country," Shirley said, dropping
down on the grass before the doctor's favorite _La France_, and laying
her face against the soft, pink petals of a half-blown bud.

Edna eyed her curiously. She had rather resented the admittance of
this city girl into their set. Shirley's skirt and blouse were of
white linen, there was a knot of red under the broad sailor collar, she
was hatless and the dark hair,--never kept too closely within
bounds--was tossed and blown; there was certainly nothing especially
cityfied in either appearance or manner.

"That's the way I feel about the city," Edna said slowly, "it must be
lovely to live _there_."

Shirley laughed. "It is. I reckon just being alive anywhere such days
as these ought to content one. You haven't been over to the manor
lately, have you? I mean since we came there. We're really getting
the garden to look like a garden. Reclaiming the wilderness, father
calls it. You'll come over now, won't you--the club, I mean?"

"Why, of course," Edna answered, she thought she would like to go. "I
suppose you've been over to the forts?"

"Lots of times--father's ever so interested in them,