"She's too good for all of us. How did thee ever come to have such a
graceless set of children, mother?"

"I'm very well satisfied," said Rachel. "But now do be quiet and let's
finish the letter. We must get to bed some time to-night!"

* * * * *

The wild clematis was in blossom now; the fences were white with it, and
the rusty cedars were crowned with virgin wreaths; but the weeds were thick
in the garden and in the potato patch. Dorothy, stretching her cramped
back, looked longingly up the shadowy vista of the farm-lane that had
nothing to do but ramble off into the remotest green fields, where the
daisies' faces were as white and clear as in early June.

One hot August night she came home late from the store. The stars were
thick in the sky; the katydids made the night oppressive with their rasping
questionings, and a hoarse revel of frogs kept the ponds from falling
asleep in the shadow of the hills.

"Is thee very tired to-night, Dorothy?" her mother asked, as she took her
seat on the low step of the porch. "Would thee mind turning old John out
thyself?"

"No, mother, I'm not tired. But why? Oh, _I_ know!" cried Dorothy with
a quick laugh. "The dance at Slocum's barn. I thought those boys were
uncommonly helpful."

"Yes, dear, it's but natural they should want to see it. Hark! we can hear