panionable child. He was a regular boy, and the
great point of interest in Sentry Hill for him was batting a ball up the
hill. It was a proud day for him when he carried it farther than any
other boy. He was fond of games of all kinds, and was one of the
fleetest runners and a fine oarsman, and could sail a boat equal to any
old salt, he thought. He was a boy, of course, and Uncle Win did not
want him to be a "Molly coddle," so he gave in, for he did not quite
know what to do with a lad who could tumble more books around in five
minutes than he could put in order in half an hour, and knew more about
every corner in Old Boston than anyone else, and was much more confident
of his knowledge.

But this little girl, who soon learned the peculiarity of every tree,
the song of the different birds, and the season of bloom for wild
flowers, and could listen for hours to the incidents of the past, that
seem of more vital importance to middle-aged people than the matters of
every day, was a veritable treasure to Mr. Winthrop Adams. He did not
mind if she could not knit a stocking, and he sometimes excused her
deficiencies in arithmetic because she was so fond of hearing him read
poetry. For Doris thought, of all the things in the world, being able to
write verses was the most delightful, and that was her aim when she was
a grown-up young lady. She did pick up a good deal of general knowledge
that she would not have acquired at school, but Uncle Win wasn't quite
sure how much a girl ought to be educated.

She began to see considerable of the Chapman girls, and Madam Royall
grew very fond of her. But she did not forget her dear friends in
Sudbury Street. Sometimes when Uncle Win was going out to a supper or to
stay away all the evening she would go up and spend the night with
Betty, and sit in the old corner, for it was Uncle Leverett's favorite
place whether there was fire or not. He was as fond as ever of listening
to her chatter.

She always brought a message to Aunt Priscilla about Solomon. Uncle
Winthrop thought him the handsomest cat he had ever seen, and now
Solomon was not even afraid of Cato, but would walk about the garden
with him, and Miss Recompense said he was so much company when she,
Doris, was out of the house.

Indeed, he would look at her with inquiring eyes and a soft, questioning
sound in his voice that was not quite a mew.

"Yes," Miss Recompense would say, "Doris has gone up to Sudbury Street.
We miss he