ton had seemed more glad
than Clara. Only the peacock and Clara had seemed proud. Perhaps Clara
had been afraid Peggy would rumple her dress. It was a very lovely
shimmery dress with smocking. Peggy liked dresses that were smocked. She
seated herself on a branch of the apple tree and began to swing back and
forth. She was never shy herself, so it did not occur to her that Clara
was shy. There did not seem to be anything to say, and it seemed a long,
long time, since Thanksgiving Day, when she had last seen Clara, and as
if they would have to get acquainted all over again.

"Did you have a nice journey?" said Peggy.

"No, horrid! I'm always car-sick. Father's coming for us and we are
going back in the automobile."

"That will be great fun," said Peggy.

"It will be better than the train," said Clara, "but it's a long ride,
and I always get awfully tired."

"Do you?" said Peggy, swinging back and forth again.

"How long your legs are," said Clara.

Peggy stopped short in her swinging. "If you say anything about my legs
I shall go crazy," she announced. Then she climbed as high in the apple
tree as she could get and dared them to come and join her. "Come up into
my house, you short-legged people," she called down. "I have a room in a
tower and there are windows in it, and I can see all over the place.
Come up here--why don't you come?"

"Don't be cross, Peggy," said Alice. "You know I am scared to, and Clara
would spoil her dress if she climbed up there."

"What are dresses for if you can't climb trees in them?" Peggy called
down.

"I wish I had a frock like yours, it is such a pretty color," said
Clara, who always liked other people's things better than her own.

The compliment to her dress restored Peggy's good humor. She was very
seldom cross, and she felt thoroughly ashamed of herself. So she
condescended to play dolls with Clara and Alice, and there was no fun so
great as to have Peggy play dolls. She put them through such adventures
and made them have such narrow escapes that the little mothers were
positively thrilled. So it was a very happy afternoon for every one,
even for Miss Rand, who came out just before it was time for the
children to go home, with a tray on which there was a pitcher of
something nice and cold that tasted of orange, and some small doughnuts.
Miss Rand sat down on an apple branch, which seat she preferred to a
chair, and she sang for them, at Peggy's request, some Scotch songs, in