id. "That's one of father's hobbies. It means
getting a true estimate of life. We should value things that are worth
while, like education and refinement, honesty and courage. It's very
vulgar to put value on money; gentle birth and good breeding count for
much more."

"I guess our grandsires could measure up with anybody's," Amanda said
proudly. "We're every one eligible to the Daughters of the Revolution."

"What's the matter with the We Are Sevens?" Kitty shouted, and the rest
took up the cry:

"Who's all right? We're all right!"

Down the hill they ran merrily, and scrambled into saddles for a wild
gallop home. Such news was too good to keep, and before the evening was
half spent, arrangements were completed for the coming event, and a
letter posted to Blue Bonnet.

And in Boston a young girl awaited the first of April with joy that
knew no bounds.

"Only two days more until Uncle Cliff comes, now, Joy," she said,
tearing a leaf off from the calendar. "Seems to me I just can't wait. I
never was so anxious to see him in my life."

Joy smiled sympathetically.

"It will be lovely," she said. "And you have planned so many things to
do, Blue Bonnet. I've been wondering if your uncle will wish to keep all
these engagements."

Blue Bonnet turned toward Joy quickly.

"You don't know Uncle Cliff," she said gaily. "He'll have the time of
his life. He wrote me that three days were at my disposal; to fill them
any way I chose. Want to hear the program?"

"Love to," Joy answered.

"Well, Uncle Cliff gets here the morning of the first; that's Friday."

She went to her desk and taking out an engagement book, began turning
the leaves hastily.

"Arrives at eight-fifteen. That ought to get him up here about nine, at
the very latest."

"Oh, let the poor man get his breakfast first."

"He'll have that on the train, thank you. Then let me see; yes--here:
Nine o'clock, visit with Uncle Cliff. Ten, shopping. Eleven o'clock,
hospital. I have a little plan about that. One, luncheon. Two o'clock,
matinee--or something; haven't planned that yet. Five, meet Aunt
Lucinda and the girls from Woodford. Eight, theatre--"

"Mercy, Blue Bonnet, what a mad scramble! And after a five days' journey
across the continent I should think your uncle would be dead!"

"I hadn't thought of that," Blue Bonnet said, contritely. "Perhaps we
_had_ better cut out the matinee. I shouldn't wonder if we had. It would
be hard on Grandmother, too.