"It's all just as father described it," said Felix with a
blissful sigh, "and there's the well with the Chinese roof."

We hurried over to it, treading on the spears of mint that were
beginning to shoot up about it. It was a very deep well, and the
curb was of rough, undressed stones. Over it, the queer,
pagoda-like roof, built by Uncle Stephen on his return from a
voyage to China, was covered with yet leafless vines.

"It's so pretty, when the vines leaf out and hang down in long
festoons," said the Story Girl. "The birds build their nests in
it. A pair of wild canaries come here every summer. And ferns
grow out between the stones of the well as far down as you can
see. The water is lovely. Uncle Edward preached his finest
sermon about the Bethlehem well where David's soldiers went to
get him water, and he illustrated it by describing his old well
at the homestead--this very well--and how in foreign lands he had
longed for its sparkling water. So you see it is quite famous."

"There's a cup just like the one that used to be here in father's
time," exclaimed Felix, pointing to an old-fashioned shallow cup
of clouded blue ware on a little shelf inside the curb.

"It is the very same cup," said the Story Girl impressively.
"Isn't it an amazing thing? That cup has been here for forty
years, and hundreds of people have drunk from it, and it has
never been broken. Aunt Julia dropped it down the well once, but
they fished it up, not hurt a bit except for that little nick in
the rim. I think it is bound up with the fortunes of the King