e new outlooks."

Pauline looked rather doubtful; then, catching sight of a small
dejected-looking little figure in the swing, under the big cherry-tree
at the foot of the lawn, she asked, "I suppose I may tell Patience now,
mother? She really has been very good all this time of waiting."

"She certainly has. Only, not too many details, Pauline. Patience is
of such a confiding disposition."

"Patience," Pauline called, "suppose we go see if there aren't some
strawberries ripe?"

Patience ran off for a basket. Strawberries! As if she didn't know
they were only a pretext. Grown people were assuredly very queer--but
sometimes, it was necessary to humor, their little whims and ways.

"I don't believe they are ripe yet," she said, skipping along beside
her sister. "O Paul, is it--nice?"

"Mother thinks so!"

"Don't you?"

"Maybe I will--after a while. Hilary isn't to go away."

"Is that what you wrote and asked Uncle Paul? And didn't you ask for
us all to go?"

"Certainly not--we're not sick," said Pauline, laughing.

"Miranda says what Hilary needs is a good herb tonic!"

"Miranda doesn't know everything."

"What is Uncle Paul going to do then?"

"Send some money every month--to have good times with at home."

"One of those blue paper things?"

"I suppose so," Pauline laughed.

"And _you_ don't call that _nice_! Well of all the ungratefullest
girls! Is it for us _all_ to have good times with? Or just Hilary?"

"All of us. Of course, Hilary must come first."

Patience fairly jumped up and down with excitement. "When will they
begin, and what will they be like? O Paul, just think of the good
times we've had _without_ any money 't all! Aren't we the luckiest
girls!"

They had reached the strawberry-bed and Patience dropped down in the
grass beside it, her hands clasped around her knees. "Good times in
Winton will be a lot better than good times anywhere else. Winton's
such a nice sociable place."

Pauline settled herself on the top rail of the fence bordering the
garden at the back. Patience's enthusiasm was infectious. "What sort
of good times do you mean?" she asked.

"Picnics!"

"We have such a lot of picnics--year after year!"

"A nice picnic is always sort of new. Miranda does put up such
beautiful lunches. O Paul, couldn't we afford chocolate layer cake
_every_ time, now?"

"You goosey!" Pauline laughed again heartily.

"And maybe there'll be an excursion somewhere