this summer."

"It would make a pretty picture," Pauline said thoughtfully. "Hilary,
I wonder--"

"So do I," Hilary said. "Still, after all, one would like to see
different places--"

"And love only one," Pauline added; she turned to her sister. "You are
better, aren't you--already?"

"I surely am. Shirley's promised to take me out on the lake soon.
She's going to be friends with us, Paul--really friends. She says we
must call her 'Shirley,' that she doesn't like 'Miss Dayre,' she hears
it so seldom."

"I think it's nice--being called 'Miss,'" Patience remarked, from where
she had curled herself up in the hammock. "I suppose she doesn't want
it, because she can have it--I'd love to be called 'Miss Shaw.'"

"Hilary," Pauline said, "would you mind very much, if you couldn't go
away this summer?"

"It wouldn't do much good if I did, would it?"

"The not minding would--to mother and the rest of us--"

"And if you knew what--" Patience began excitedly.

"Don't you want to go find Captain, Impatience?" Pauline asked hastily,
and Patience, feeling that she had made a false move, went with most
unusual meekness.

"Know what?" Hilary asked.

"I--shouldn't wonder, if the child had some sort of scheme on hand,"
Pauline said, she hoped she wasn't--prevaricating; after all, Patience
probably did have some scheme in her head--she usually had.

"I haven't thought much about going away the last day or so," Hilary
said. "I suppose it's the feeling better, and, then, the getting to
know Shirley."

"I'm glad of that." Pauline sat silent for some moments; she was
watching a fat bumble bee buzzing in and out among the flowers in the
garden. It was always still, over here at the farm, but to-day, it
seemed a different sort of stillness, as if bees and birds and flowers
knew that it was Sunday afternoon.

"Paul," Hilary asked suddenly, "what are you smiling to yourself about?"

"Was I smiling? I didn't know it. I guess because it is so nice and
peaceful here and because--Hilary, let's start a club--the 'S. W. F.
Club.'"

"The what?"

"The 'S. W. F. Club.' No, I shan't tell you what the letters stand
for! You've got to think it out for yourself."

"A real club, Paul?"

"Indeed, yes."

"Who's to belong?"

"Oh, lots of folks. Josie and Tom, and you and I--and I think, maybe,
mother and father."

"Father! To belong to a club!"

"It was he who put the idea into my head."

Hilary came to sit besid