Clover heard of all manner of delightful doings,--sails, excursions,
receptions on board ship, and long moonlight paddles with Ned, who was an
expert canoeist. Everybody was so wonderfully kind, Katy said; but Ned
wrote to his sister that Katy was a great favorite; every one liked her,
and his particular friends were all raging wildly round in quest of girls
just like her to marry. "But it's no use; for, as I tell them," he added,
"that sort isn't made in batches. There is only one Katy; and happily she
belongs to me, and the other fellows must get along as they can."

This was all satisfactory and comforting; and Clover could endure a little
loneliness herself so long as her beloved Katy seemed so happy. She was
very busy besides, and there _were_ compensations, as she admitted to
herself. She liked the consequence of being at the head of domestic
affairs, and succeeding to Katy's position as papa's special
daughter,--the person to whom he came for all he wanted, and to whom he
told his little secrets. She and Elsie became more intimate than they had
ever been before; and Elsie in her turn enjoyed being Clover's lieutenant
as Clover had been Katy's. So the summer did not seem long to any of them;
and when September was once past, and they could begin to say, "month
after next," the time sped much faster.

"Mrs. Hall asked me this morning when the Worthingtons were coming," said
Johnnie, one day. "It seems so funny to have Katy spoken of as 'the
Worthingtons.'"

"I only wish the Worthingtons would write and say when," remarked Clover.
"It is more than a week since we heard from them."

The next day brought the wished-for letter, and the good news that Ned had
a fortnight's leave, and meant to bring Katy home the middle of November,