l
have to prove that it isn't just because you are too lazy to study Greek
and German that you want to give it up. If you pass good examinations,
this June, your chance will be all the better. Then you can go off, this
summer, and take time to think it over. By fall, you can tell what you
really do want; and, if your father is the man I think he is, and if you
behave yourself in the meantime, I believe you will get it." She paused
and, for the second time in her acquaintance with him, she felt Allyn's
fingers close warmly on her own; but he only said,--

"You're not half bad for a girl, Cis."

"And when shall we begin our Dutch?" she asked, determined to clinch the
fact of their treaty of peace.

"When can you?"

"To-night. Come over at eight, and I'll be ready. We'll take an hour,
every evening and I'll do fudge afterward."

The dinner bell was sounding at The Savins, as Cicely and Allyn came
strolling homeward. It was evident that they had been for a long walk.
Melchisedek's tail drooped dejectedly, and Allyn carried a sheaf of
nodding yellow lilies, while Cicely had the despised grammar tucked under
one arm and a bunch of greenish white clovers in the other hand. They
came on, shoulder to shoulder, talking busily, and Theodora as she
watched them, was well content.

At the table, Cicely ignored the events of the afternoon

"Allyn is having a bad time with his German and I am going to see if I
can help him," was all she said. "Are you going to use the library,
this evening?"

CHAPTER ELEVEN

"'Lit-tle ones to him be-long,
Vey are weak, but he is strong.'

"Mam-ma-a-a!" Mac's burst of psalmody ended in a roar.

"Yes, Mac. Here I am."

"Where?"

"Upstairs, packing."

Mac toiled up the stairs and into his mother's room.

"I fought maybe you wanted to see me," he observed. "What for you putting
all vose fings into ve box?"

"Because we are going to see grandpapa and Aunt Teddy, and then we are
all going to the seashore."

"What is ve seashore?"

"The ocean, the great, broad blue water without any edge to it, where the
waves keep tumbling over and over on the beach."

"What's beach?" he demanded. Always used to the mountains, the
phraseology of the sea was a new tongue to him.

"It's the edge of the water," his mother said absently, while she tried
to fold an organdie gown to the best advantage.

"But you said vere wouldn't be any edge," he protested, for he was
nothing if not logical,