papers--like Amy's library, Will--white paint on all the woodwork,
white and cream outside, some really good furniture, and the garden
made over--you wouldn't know the place."

"But that would take months," said Mrs. Carew ruefully.

"And cost like sixty," added Dr. Brown, at which there was a laugh.

"Well, she won't wait any six months, or six weeks either," Barry
predicted. "And don't you worry about the expense, Doctor. Do you
know who she IS?"

They all looked at him. "Who?" said ten voices together.

"Why, her father was Frothingham--Paul Frothingham, the inventor.
Her husband was Colonel John Burgoyne;--you all know the name. He
was quite a big man, too--a diplomat. Their wedding was one of those
big Washington affairs. A few years later Burgoyne had an accident,
and he was an invalid for about six years after that--until his
death, in fact. She traveled with him everywhere."

"Sidney Frothingham!" said Mrs. Carew. "I remember Emily Holly used
to have letters from her. She was presented at the English court
when she was quite young, I remember, and she used to visit at the
White House, too. So THAT'S who she is!"

"I remember the child's visit here perfectly," Mrs. Apostleman said,
"tall, lanky girl with very charming manners. Her husband was at St.
Petersburg for a while; then in London--was it? You ought to know,
Clara, me dear--I'm not sure--Even after his accident they went on