aced the table.

It was Wee Watts as usual who saved the day.

"Mercy on us, Annabel," she said with scorn, though the twitching of her
lips belied her bravado, "any one would think we were all going to pass
away, or go to live in a foreign country. _I'm_ not. Indeed I have plans
for visiting Nashville in the near future--to show the natives what a
real Yankee looks like."

That night seven happy girls reviewed the day with pleasure. The sail
through the islands had been a joy--the dinner a delight; the service a
benediction that would long linger in the minds of all present. It had
been such fun to cook the meal--fry the bacon on the end of a forked
twig over the glowing camp fire; to tramp through the purple fields of
rhodora, gather the low pink mounds of sheep laurel; to quaff great
breaths of the fragrant sea air.

There had been just a suggestion of a Lambs' meeting, too. The song of
the Lambs had been sung with much enthusiasm and feeling, and many
injunctions passed on to the Junior part of the assemblage for use
during the next year. There was a wild enthusiastic cheer for
Sargentville; an equally ecstatic one for Mrs. Paine and Fairview, and
then the little company pulled for shore to pack their several
belongings and make ready for the boat which left at sunrise the next
morning.

The days which preceded Commencement were happy ones for Blue Bonnet.
While she shared in a measure Annabel's depression at parting from
friends, her association with the school had not been of such duration
that it made her absolutely unhappy to leave it. The bright, sunny days
had brought many pleasures. Among them were visits with her grandmother,
who, now that the weather was seasonable, made frequent trips to Boston.
There was a possibility of a separation from Blue Bonnet in the future,
and Mrs. Clyde wished to be near her as much as possible.

"You have quite decided to go back to the ranch with Uncle Cliff for the
summer, dear?" she asked Blue Bonnet one afternoon. It was Friday, and
Blue Bonnet was spending the week-end with her family; Uncle Cliff was
still in Boston. Aunt Lucinda had taken out her sewing and there was a
very homey atmosphere--even in the garish hotel room--conducive to a
confidential chat.

Blue Bonnet did not answer for a minute.

"I _think_ so, Grandmother," she said presently. "It seems almost as if
I should. Uncle Cliff needs me--and there's Gabriel, too! I should like
to get him started in