good-sized garden, which, year after year, in spite of neglect, was
bright with old-fashioned hardy annuals planted long ago, when the
manor had been something more than an old neglected house, at the mercy
of a chance tenant.

"Just a father and daughter. They've got old Betsy Todd to look after
them," Mrs. Boyd went on. "The girl's about your age, Hilary. You
wasn't looking to find company of that sort so near, was you?"

Hilary looked interested. "No," she answered. "But, after all, the
manor's a mile away."

"Oh, she's back and forth every day--for milk, or one thing or another;
she's terribly interested in the farm; father's taken a great notion to
her. She'll be over after supper, you'll see; and then I'll make you
acquainted with her."

"Are they city people?" Pauline asked.

"From New York!" Mrs. Boyd told her proudly. From her air one would
have supposed she had planned the whole affair expressly for Hilary's
benefit. "Their name's Dayre."

"What is the girl's first name?" Pauline questioned.

"Shirley; it's a queer name for a girl, to my thinking."

"Is she pretty?" Pauline went on.

"Not according to my notions; father says she is. She's thin and dark,