Mrs.
Wescott's bright eyes were dimmed as she said, "It's good to have a
welcome like this!!"

"Oh, it isn't anything to what you're going to get," Lucile wanted to
say, but she only answered, ruefully, "I'm afraid all Burleigh will be
talking about how boisterous Lucile Payton is becoming. Can't you hear?"
she added, gaily: "'I declare, that child's terribly rude; she almost
knocked me down!'"

"A very good imitation of Miss Peabody, Lucile," laughed Mrs. Wescott. "I
wonder how many times I've heard her talk just that way."

Miss Peabody was one of the old maids that authors love to
picture--straight, prim, opinionated, with a sharp tongue that wrought
discord wherever it went. She dealt in other people's shortcomings, and
if Burleigh had not known her too well to give her false tales credence,
she might have worked some serious mischief. As it was, everyone took her
gossip with a grain of salt, remarking, with a smile and a shrug after
she had gone away, "Of course, that may be true, but remember, Angela
Peabody said it!"

When Lucile chose, she could mimic anyone from the young Italian at
"Correlli's" to pompous Mrs. Belmont Nevill, who owned millions that she
didn't know how to use. So now she had brought Miss Peabody before her
guardian so vividly that the latter added, in surprise, "That must be a
recent accomplishment, Lucy. You never did that at camp."

"At camp I never remembered anybody at Burleigh except Mother and Dad and
Phil," said Lucile. "It seemed like a different world."

"A rather nice kind of world it was, too, wasn't it?" said her guardian,
with a reminiscent smile.

"Nice?" cried Lucile. "It was glorious! I only wish we could do it all
over again. It does seem as if one good thing comes crowding right on the
heels of another ever since we decided to form a camp-fire."

"It has meant happiness for all of us," said Mrs. Wescott, with a
far-away look that Lucile knew how to interpret.

"I know," she said. "Here we are," she added, a moment later. "Oh, it's
good to have you here at last."

For answer, her guardian put her arm about Lucile and ran lightly up the
steps, saying, joyfully, "And it's good to be here, Lucy, dear; but where
are the girls?"

"Oh, they're coming," Lucile answered, vaguely. "Come on upstairs and get
your things off," she added, guiding her guest past the living-room
adroitly.

When Lucile ushered her into the great, airy, upstairs sitting-room, she
dropped into