he friendliest manner, and a
lively old lady kissed the new-comers all round, as she said heartily,

"Well, now, I'm proper glad to see you! Come right in and rest, and
we'll have tea in less than no time, for you must be tired. Lizzie, you
show the folks upstairs; Kitty, you fly round and help father in with
the trunks; and Jenny and I will have the table all ready by the time
you come down. Bless the dears, they want to go see the pussies, and so
they shall!"

The three pretty daughters did "fly round," and everyone felt at home at
once, all were so hospitable and kind. Aunt Jessie had raptures over the
home-made carpets, quilts and quaint furniture; Rose could not keep away
from the windows, for each framed a lovely picture; and the little folks
made friends at once with the other children, who filled their arms with
chickens and kittens, and did the honours handsomely.

The toot of a horn called all to supper, and a goodly party, including
six children besides the Camp-bells, assembled in the long dining-room,
armed with mountain appetites and the gayest spirits. It was impossible
for anyone to be shy or sober, for such gales of merriment arose they
blew the starch out of the stiffest, and made the saddest jolly. Mother
Atkinson, as all called their hostess, was the merriest there, and the
busiest; for she kept flying up to wait on the children, to bring out
some new dish, or to banish the live stock, who were of such a social
turn that the colt came into the entry and demanded sugar; the cats sat
about in people's laps, winking suggestively at the food; and speckled
hens cleared the kitchen floor of crumbs, as they joined in the chat
with a cheerful clucking.

Everybody turned out after tea to watch the sunset till all the lovely
red was gone, and mosquitoes wound their shrill horns to sound the
retreat. The music of an organ surprised the new-comers, and in
the parlor they found Father Atkinson playing sweetly on the little
instrument made by himself. All the children gathered about him, and,
led by the tuneful sisters, sang prettily till Pokey fell asleep behind
the door, and Jamie gaped audibly right in the middle of his favourite,

"Coo," said the little doves: "Coo," said she,
"All in the top of the old pine-tree."

The older travellers, being tired, went to "bye low" at the same time,
and slept like tops in home-spun sheets, on husk mattresses made by
Mother Atkinson, who seemed to have put some