at was a very unlucky day for me." Elfreda
giggled reminiscently. "Pa raged like a lion. He declared I did it
purposely and pitched the horseshoe into the street. I let it stay
there. I wasn't much impressed with its lucky qualities. Just the same
it didn't cure me of my belief in signs."

Grace's ready laughter held a merry note that was intensely gratifying
to the narrator of the tragic horseshoe episode. She had succeeded even
better than she had expected, was Elfreda's reflection. Then, too, the
unexpected sight of Tom Gray's handwriting on the back of the painting,
coupled with the finding of the rose, had brought a look of new
animation to Grace's too-calm features.

"I am afraid I shall have to take back my promise not to go to Haven
Home again soon," was Grace's half apologetic comment as the two emerged
from Upton Wood upon the highway that wound its way from the outskirts
of Oakdale through the open country beyond the town. "I feel now as
though I wanted to go there often, just to read Tom's message. I like to
think of it as a message. Strange that I never recalled the incident
until to-day."

"It was not intended that you should," maintained Elfreda. "As for
taking back your promise, you never really made one. If I were you,
though, I'd stay away from that house as long as I could. But if I found
that I was determined to go there, then I'd go."

"That is very wise and elastic counsel," asserted Grace. "It can be
stretched to cover all my moods and yearnings."

Arm in arm, the two friends swung briskly along the highway, following
it until they reached the wide tree-lined street in which the Harlowe
residence stood. When within a short distance of the house, their glance
became simultaneously fixed on two childish forms racing toward them at
full speed.

"Here come Elizabeth and Anna May Angerell." An indulgent smile curved
Grace's lips. "They have spied us from afar. They are the dearest little
girls. I can't begin to tell you what a comfort they've been to me this
summer. They're such joyous youngsters. They fairly bubble with
happiness. What a wonderful estate childhood is, Elfreda. Yet we never
realize it until long after it has passed away. I've often wished I
could go back and live it over, even for one day."

"I'd rather be grown up," disagreed Elfreda. "I never had a very good
time when I was little, because I was always grieving over being a prize
fat child. The way of the baby elephant is pre