.. -*- encoding: utf-8 -*-

.. meta::
   :PG.Id: 49957
   :PG.Title: Mary Jane in New England
   :PG.Released: 2015-09-13
   :PG.Rights: Public Domain
   :PG.Producer: Al Haines
   :DC.Creator: Clara Ingram Judson
   :MARCREL.ill: Thelma Gooch
   :DC.Title: Mary Jane in New England
   :DC.Language: en
   :DC.Created: 1921
   :coverpage: images/img-cover.jpg

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MARY JANE IN NEW ENGLAND
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   .. _`"Can we ride on them?" asked Mary Jane breathless with excitement`:

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      :alt: "Can we ride on them?" asked Mary Jane, breathless with excitement. (*Frontispiece*, Page 42)

      "Can we ride on them?" asked Mary Jane, breathless with excitement. (*Frontispiece*, Page `42`_)

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      MARY JANE IN
      NEW ENGLAND

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      BY

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      CLARA INGRAM JUDSON

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      AUTHOR OF
      "MARY JANE—HER BOOK," "MARY JANE—HER VISIT," "MARY
      JANE'S KINDERGARTEN," "MARY JANE DOWN SOUTH,"
      "MARY JANE'S CITY HOME."

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      *ILLUSTRATED BY
      THELMA GOOCH*

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      GROSSET & DUNLAP
      PUBLISHERS NEW YORK

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      Copyright, 1921
      by
      GROSSET & DUNLAP, INC.

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      Mary Jane In New England
      *All Rights Reserved*

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      *Printed in the United States of America*

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      To my brother,
      DWIGHT HAROLD INGRAM,
      with happy memories of his
      commencement week

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   CONTENTS

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`Plans for the Journey`_
`A Day of Wetness`_
`First Glimpses of Boston`_
`An Unexpected Visit at Wellesley`_
`Class Day Fun—and Troubles`_
`Winning the Game`_
`The Adventure by the Lagoon`_
`Commencement in the Stadium`_
`Fun on the Beach`_
`A Day in Plymouth`_
`Visiting Cousin Louise`_
`The Willow Tree Cottage`_
`Lost!  One Mary Jane`_
`Tea on the Terrace`_
`The Last Day in Boston—and Home`_

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   LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

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`"Can we ride on them?" asked Mary Jane breathless
with excitement`_ . . . . . . *Frontispiece*

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`She sighed with relief as the offending shoe came off`_

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`"You almost touched it!" exclaimed Mary Jane`_

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`"My dear child!  Where were you?  We've hunted and hunted!"`_

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.. _`PLANS FOR THE JOURNEY`:

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   MARY JANE IN NEW ENGLAND

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   PLANS FOR THE JOURNEY

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"Then are we really going?" asked Mary
Jane eagerly.

"To Boston and Harvard and Uncle Hal's
Class Day and everything?" added Alice.

Mr. and Mrs. Merrill looked at each other
and then at the long letter in Mrs. Merrill's
hand.

"I do believe we are," said Mrs. Merrill
thoughtfully.

"That's right!" approved Mr. Merrill
heartily.  "You'll never regret it.  I am sure
the girls are old enough to remember the
interesting sights they will see and they may never
have another chance to go to Harvard Class
Day and all the 'doings' Hal writes about."

"And then," added Mrs. Merrill, "I always
promised brother Hal I'd come when he
graduated.  One doesn't have a 'baby brother'
graduate from Harvard every summer.  Though
I would like it better if you could go too."

"Sure you can't, Dad"?  asked Alice, wistfully.

"Certain sure," replied her father.  "With
all the changes in the office just now I wouldn't
think it wise to leave my work for men who are
already loaded up.  And then, too," he added
when he noticed how disappointed the two girls
looked, "remember we'll need somebody here
to see about the new house—don't you forget that!"

"Of course we travel easily," said Mrs. Merrill,
"and Hal promises to look after us so well."

"And makes good by sending that list," said
Mr. Merrill.  "I never saw the like of the way
he has everything lined up for you—you couldn't
get lost if you wanted to!"

Alice and Mary Jane Merrill, who with
their father and mother had moved from the
small town where they had always lived, to the
big city of Chicago only a few months before,
were having a most interesting time.  Not only
had they seen city sights, played in the parks
and done good work in school; in addition they
had made a number of fine friends and, partly
through some of these friends, had discovered
that they could have an even happier time if
Mary Jane had some place to dig, and garden
and play out of doors.  Girls who live in flats
can't very well have gardens—at least at Mary
Jane's flat one couldn't.  So the Merrills had
started exploring and had quite suddenly bought
a small piece of land on the edge of one of the
outlying suburbs and there they planned to
build a little "shack" where they could go every
summer and play at being farmers.  Such
drawing of plans and studying of seed catalogues
there never was—the girls found it wonderful fun.

Then, as though going to the country and
making a garden was not enough to keep one
little girl's head busy, there had come a letter
from Mrs. Merrill's brother reminding her of
a promise made long ago that she would come
to his graduation from Harvard.  At first it
seemed as though such a trip wouldn't be
possible.  There was the house in the country to
see to—and though it was to be only an
unfinished cottage there were a thousand and one
details about its building and furnishing that
needed attention—the girls were in school and
they had planned no summer dresses suitable
to the gaieties of commencement week at Cambridge.

But a day or two of careful thinking and
planning made Mrs. Merrill decide that they
would go.  Last year's "best" dresses had been
let down and were very pretty; new ginghams
for traveling surely would not be hard to make
or buy and she loved making the dainty organdy
dresses each girl would need for Class Day.
The trip wouldn't take long and soon they
would be back to attend to the new country
home which would hardly have time to miss
them.

Alice reached for the list Mr. Merrill had
referred to and read what Uncle Hal had written
out for them.

"Arrive in Boston Monday morning; Class
Day, Tuesday; Baseball, Wednesday (tickets
for you all) Commencement, Thursday and if
the weather is fine you can all go, for it will be
in the Stadium; Friday, sightseeing and
anything you want to do."  And below was a
notation telling them he had had rooms engaged for
weeks ahead at the Westminister Hotel, which
was a very wise and thoughtful provision for
their comfort, as Boston hotels are always more
than crowded commencement week.

"It sounds like a lot of fun, Mother," she said
happily.

"And are we going to sleep on the train and
have hashed brown potatoes in the diner and
live at a place by the ocean just like when we
went to Florida?" asked Mary Jane.

"It won't be just like in Florida," explained
Mr. Merrill, "because Boston is a big city like
Chicago, and big cities have different sorts of
hotels from any you have been in.  But I'll
venture to say you will have a good time.  And if
you stick to Uncle Hal's program you won't
have much time for either napping or being
homesick!"

"Dear me!" cried Mrs. Merrill suddenly
glancing at the clock, "I don't know why we
are sitting here all day dreaming!  We ought
to be making out lists and deciding what to take
and do and everything.  We're going to be busy
people these next two weeks, let me tell you that."

Alice dashed to the desk for pencils and pads.

"Let's make out a list of what we have to
do for the new house," said Mrs. Merrill, "and
what we have to take and what I have to make
or buy.  And I can tell you this much," she
added a few minutes later when the lists were
well under way, "if I'm to do all those things
before we go, you two people will have to do
a lot of helping."

"Oh, we'd love that!" exclaimed Mary Jane
eagerly, "I'd get breakfasts and Alice can wash
all the dishes and—"

"What's all this?" demanded Alice as she
looked up from the list she was finishing,
"*I*'ll get breakfasts, and *you* can wash dishes
and—"

"Let's both do 'em both," corrected Mary
Jane, "but I *can* make toast and cook eggs; I
just *know* I can, mother dear, and I want to
help a lot."

"I know you do, dear," said Mrs. Merrill, as
she drew the little girl toward her, "and you're
going to in just every way you can and will."

So it was decided that the two girls should do
every bit of the housework they possibly could
and let Mrs. Merrill have lots of time free for
sewing and shopping and tending to the new house.

How those two weeks did fly!  It really
seemed no time at all since the four Merrills
were sitting there deciding that they could go
to Boston, till the last day had arrived and Mary
Jane was having a dress up "try on" of her new
organdy dress to be sure it was exactly right
before it was packed.  How they had all
worked!  Mary Jane had cooked—toast on the
electric toaster and coffee in the kitchen and
eggs boiled just as father liked them.  And she
had taken her turn with Alice at washing dishes
and drying dishes and making beds and cleaning
the bathroom (Mary Jane liked that the
best of anything except cooking eggs with her
own three-minute-glass to tell when they were
done) and dusting and marketing and pulling
out bastings—they had done all those things and
more and Mrs. Merrill declared that never,
never in the world, could she have finished so
much work in two weeks' time if she hadn't had
two fine assistants.

"Come here, dear," said Mrs. Merrill as
Mary Jane danced off to look in the mirror,
"I'll have to tack that bolero—there.  Now
let's tie the sash and try on the new shoes and
be sure everything is just right."

But Mary Jane could hardly stand still.  It
was so thrilling to try on her first organdy
dress—long pink ribbons, a white hat with pink
streamers just like Alice's yellow ones and white
stockings and brand new pumps, yes, truly,
pumps like big folks.  She could hardly wait to
get everything on, she was so anxious to see
herself.

Just as the last bow was adjusted, the bell rang
three short taps, father's ring, and Mary Jane,
looking all the world like a fairy dropped onto
the stairs by some magic mistake, dashed down
to greet him.

"Everything fits and it's all just right and
don't I look nice and we're waiting for you to
bring the trunk up from the basement and Alice
has made apple dumplings—green apple dumplings
for dinner so you'd better hurry," she
finished, breathlessly.

"For that I will," laughed Mr. Merrill, "my! but
you do look grown up, pussy!" he added as
he looked her over carefully.  "Shoes fit all
right?  Everything has to be just so for Class
Day you know, young lady, for folks want to be
comfortable as well as beautiful when they go
to all day 'doings.'"

"She thinks everything is all right," explained
Mrs. Merrill.  "You look pleased about
something.  Is there anything new?"

"Maybe so," said Mr. Merrill so mysteriously
that Mary Jane stopped in the hall to
listen.  "Think you could get off Saturday
evening instead of Sunday morning as you had
planned?"

Mrs. Merrill thought a second.  "Yes, I guess
we could," she decided, "it wouldn't make a
lot of difference either way.  But I thought you
had our reservations?"

"Changed them," said Mr. Merrill.  "How
would you like me to go along as far as Niagara
and spend Sunday with you there and then you
folks go on east Sunday night?"

"Really, Daddah?" called Mary Jane happily,
"then you could eat in the diner with us and
sleep and everything!"

"Wouldn't Uncle Hal be flattered," teased
Mr. Merrill, "if he knew that you talked more
about the diner than you do about Class Day!"

"Oh, I like Class Day too," declared Mary
Jane fingering her new sash, "but I'm glad we
have to eat on the train to get there."

"For my part I'm glad to eat now," said Mr. Merrill
as he sniffed the aroma of Alice's dumplings,
"I know I could eat three, so you'd better
hurry off with that finery, Mary Jane, if you
want your share."

Just twenty-four hours later, the four
Merrills boarded the train for Boston.  Much to
Mary Jane's interest, the conductor didn't call
"all aboard!" and there wasn't a bit of excitement
at the station.  The great train dashed into
the residence station where they had decided to
board it, hesitated only long enough for the
porter to assist the Merrills and their bags onto
car 201 and off they went—through the factories
and suburbs the girls had seen when they
came to Chicago for the first time.

Mary Jane pressed close to the window and
was eagerly watching the sight of busy city life
she could see on the streets as they flashed by,
when a white-coated man walked through the
car calling "Second call for dinner!  Second
call for dinner!"

"Why we missed the first call!" exclaimed
Mary Jane in distress.

"Cheer up, pussy," said her father, "that
doesn't happen often."

"Well, we won't miss anything more," announced
Mary Jane positively, "'cause I washed
my hands the last thing and my gloves kept 'em
clean."

It didn't take long to tuck gloves into coat
pockets, put hats in a safe place and walk to the
diner.  And here Mary Jane had a dinner such
as she loved, with hashed brown potatoes, and
salad and ice cream—to say nothing of meat and
bread and butter and a big glass of milk in a
creamy white tumbler.

"Now tell us what Niagara Falls is going to
look like," suggested Alice when they were back
in their own car.

"Oh, I couldn't do that," said Mrs. Merrill,
"you'll have to wait till morning.  As soon as
the porter makes up your berth, you can go to
sleep and then, when you wake up, you can see
it all for yourself—water—rivers of water!
The most water you ever saw!  That's what it is."

Mary Jane thought of that sentence the next
morning when she wakened.  She was alone in
the lower berth—evidently mother was out and
dressed—and she couldn't hear a thing but
water.  Water dashing against the window,
water dripping in through the tiny screen at her
feet, water sounding on the roof of the car till
she couldn't hear another thing.

"Why, we've stopped right in the Falls," she
cried to herself, as she whirled around to look
out of the window, "and it's like she said, water,
water—everything's water!"





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.. _`A DAY OF WETNESS`:

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   A DAY OF WETNESS

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"Alice!  Alice!  Wake up!"

Mary Jane reached her hand behind
the curtain into Alice's berth just ahead and
pounded briskly on the cushioned sides.

"Alice!  Hurry and wake up 'cause we're
stopped and we're right in the middle of
Niagara Falls and it's a-falling down!"

Alice stirred drowsily and then, as she
realized what her sister was saying, she sat up
straight with a start of amazement.

"Why, Mary Jane Merrill, what are you saying?"
she asked.  "The train doesn't stop at the
Falls—it doesn't even go close enough for us to
see them from the train.  I asked Daddah last
evening before I went to sleep."

"Well," said Mary Jane, not in the least disturbed
by her sister's doubt, "you just raise your
window curtain and look out."

Alice did as she was told and for a minute
she was inclined to believe Mary Jane must be
right.  Water, water, water was all she could
see.  Water in the air; water dashing against
the window; water running off the roof of the
car in great streams; grayness and wetness everywhere.

"Looking at the landscape, ladies?" asked
Mr. Merrill as he poked his head through the
curtains and saw Alice's amazement.

"Morning, Daddah!" whispered Mary Jane
as she clambered over from her own berth, "it
*is* the Falls, isn't it?  I told Alice we were right
in 'em."

"You've reason enough to think so," laughed
Mr. Merrill, "but as a matter of fact, you're not
quite right.  The 'Falls' which you see is
rain—common everyday rain."

"I'd never call *that* common everyday rain,"
said Alice as an extra hard beating of rain
actually made her afraid the window pane
wouldn't be enough to keep the water out of the
car, "we never have rain like that at home."

"They don't have it like that often,
anywhere," said Mrs. Merrill arriving from the
dressing room, "and I hate to invite more gloom,
but do you happen to recall that this party
decided they wouldn't 'bother' with umbrellas?"

"What ever'll we do?" exclaimed Mary Jane
with a gasp of horror.

"Swim, like as not," said Mr. Merrill
comfortingly.  "We might as well, because it's
Sunday you know and no store open to buy
umbrellas."

"Isn't it *lovely*!" sighed Mary Jane in a voice
of perfect content.

"*Lovely!*" exclaimed Mrs. Merrill.

"*How* lovely?" asked Alice.

"And she thinks it's 'lovely'!" mimicked Mr. Merrill.

"Well, it is," insisted Mary Jane.  "When
things look perfectly awful and you're sure
they're all wrong, then we always think of
something to do different and we have a beautiful
time—we always do."

As though to prove her right, at that very
minute the porter came along the aisle to
Mr. Merrill and said, "There's a taxi man outside
at the steps, sir, and he says if you want a cab
sir, he can back right up to the steps and the
ladies won't even get damp."

"Well, if there is any man living who thinks
people won't get 'damp' this morning," said
Mr. Merrill laughingly, "I'll engage him on the
spot.  As a matter of fact though, porter," he
added, "the ladies aren't ready yet.  Could your
man come back in half an hour?"

"He means us when he says 'the ladies,'"
whispered Mary Jane joyfully, "'cause mother's
all dressed and ready to go."

"Don't you feel sort of *grand*?" Alice whispered back.

The porter, who of course hadn't heard these
asides, promised to have the driver there in
thirty minutes, and Alice and Mary began to
dress in a rush.  You see, the car of folks who
were going to get off at Niagara had been
dropped from the eastern train and put on a
siding so there was no hurry about getting off.
That was nice too, for it was much easier to
dress when the train was standing still than when
it was dashing along through the country.

In less than twenty-five minutes, all the
"ladies" of Mr. Merrill's party were dressed and
combed and ready to go and, promptly on time,
the porter announced the waiting taxi.  By that
time the rain had abated a trifle though it was
still coming down very hard.

"He has backed his car close up to the steps,"
said the porter, "so the ladies needn't get a bit
of wet.  Can't I lift the little girl out, sir?  And
here's an umbrella, sir," he added as he
unfurled a huge cotton umbrella at the vestibule
door.

Seeing them coming, the driver opened the
taxi door and Mrs. Merrill slipped in safe and
dry.  Then Mr. Merrill helped Alice the same
way and the porter set Mary Jane beside them.

"Well, so far so well," said Mr. Merrill as
he stepped in after them and the car started off.
"That was a clever plan.  Now if we only don't
get drenched getting into the hotel, we can at
least get breakfast, no matter what the weather."

At the hotel they found a wide porte cochère
so they were safe and dry there.

"You're going to like this," said Mrs. Merrill,
as she looked around the lobby.  "There are lots
of little shops over there and you girls can look
at the souvenir things even if it rains too much
for you to see the Falls!"

"But breakfast first, please," suggested
Mr. Merrill, "and you can eat all you like for we
don't have to hurry to go anywhere."

Breakfast was served in a charming "sun
parlor"—which of course was gray and dark
because of the rain and mist but was beautiful
anyway with the dainty furnishings and gay
cretons.  The windows that in clear weather
looked out on the rushing river a bit above the
Falls, showed nothing interesting now.  But
perhaps that was just as well, for folks don't care
much about sightseeing before eating—at least
Mary Jane didn't.

A delicious breakfast of fruit and chops and
French fried potatoes kept the party so busy
that it was with surprise they noticed,
three-quarters of an hour later, that the rain had
cleared away and that rifts of sunshine were
coming through the clouds.

"Why it isn't raining!" exclaimed Mary Jane,
"come on, let's hurry up and see everything."

A walk of five minutes and they found
themselves standing on a great rock at the edge of
the Falls.  It was a good thing that Mrs. Merrill
was close by Mary Jane, for there was something
so vast and powerful and terrifying about
the mad rush of those roaring, tumbling waters
that even the iron bars around the edge of the
rock couldn't quite make a little girl feel safe—it
needed the hold of a person's warm hand to
make one feel comfortable enough to stand there
and watch.

For five minutes or more the four Merrills
stood there looking.  There wasn't any use
trying to talk—the roar of the falling water make
words seem fairy whispers that could not be
heard by human beings.  Mary Jane thought of
a number of things she wanted to ask about—the
boat, riding so close up to the foot of the Falls;
the great bridge over the river so near by, how
had men built it there?  And the hotel across
the Falls, could they go there?  But it was not
till they had turned away from the rocky
observation point and were walking through the park
again that she tried to talk.

"That boat down there," replied Mr. Merrill,
"is called 'The Maid of the Mist.'  Folks who
like to do queer things think it's great fun to
ride up close to the foot of the Falls, but we had
enough water this morning to last us a while,
didn't we?  We'll take the Falls from the top
this trip!"

As though to play a joke on him, at that
very minute there was a patter on the trees
overhead and pell-mell—down dashed a
thousand raindrops.  Great, round drops that
pounded right through the trees and seemed
to shout, "there's more to come, more to come,
more to come!"

There was no use staying under a tree and
there's no telling what would have happened to
hats bought for Boston if Alice hadn't
happened to spy a bandstand close by.  A hasty
dash for its shelter and they were safe—at least
for a while.

"If it ever stops again," suggested Mrs. Merrill,
"let's go over there and take the trolley
that runs across the bridge Mary Jane was
asking about, and ride down the gorge."

And of course it did stop in a few minutes
and they hurried over and boarded a car.  That
was the most interesting trolley ride Mary Jane
had ever taken or even dreamed of taking.
Across the wonderful suspension bridge, along
the very tip edge of the high bluff on the
Canadian side of the river the car made its
way—so close sometimes that Mary Jane held her
breath lest it tumble over.  Then, several miles
down the river, they crossed another bridge and
came up the American side.  This wasn't so
exciting as the banks were not nearly as high,
but it was even more interesting, for from her
seat in the car Mary Jane could see the rapids
where the water dashed over the great jutting
rocks and the whirlpool that was so fascinating
to watch.

"Oh, let's get out here and wait a while," she
cried as the car stopped at a tiny station.  "I
want to watch that water a-whirling around."

"Good idea, dear," said Mrs. Merrill, and she
signaled the conductor that they wished to get
off.  But as though to make sport of them, the
rain clouds which had appeared to be blowing
away, opened up again and a shower of rain
fell on the car roof.

"No sightseeing for us to-day," laughed
Mr. Merrill, "except under cover.  I think we'll
keep under a roof while we have one handy!"

So they stayed on the car and rode on into the
city.  But there was a lot to see even from a
trolley car and Mary Jane thought she never
could forget all the wonderful and curious
sights of that trip.

They got off at their hotel and the girls spent
a happy two hours looking at the curios in the
shop windows and then they had luncheon.

Again the sun tried to come out and the party
took a carriage to drive to Goat Island.  But
just as sure as they attempted to get out of the
carriage to have a close view of some sight the
driver pointed out to them—just that surely
would the pattering drops descend and drive
them scurrying to shelter.

At five o'clock they drove to the train that
was to take them to Buffalo where father was
to put them on the train for Boston.

"I know one thing I'll never forget about
Niagara," said Mary Jane as the train pulled
out of the station, "and that is that Niagara
Falls is awfully wet!"

"And next time we start on a trip," added
Mrs. Merrill, "we'll carry umbrellas instead of
packing them."

Mr. Merrill waited and had dinner in the
Buffalo station with them and then saw them
off for Boston before his train for Chicago
pulled in.

"Have a good time," he called as their train
pulled away, "and remember, I shall want to
hear everything about Harvard and Class Day
and Boston."

Mary Jane promised to see and remember
every single thing, then she turned back to their
section which the porter was already making
up for the night.

"You don't have to do a thing for me
Mother," she said happily.  "'Cause I know
how to put my shoes in the hammock and take
off my hair ribbon and roll it up and everything.
And I'm going right straight to sleep
so I can wake up early, early in the morning."

"That's a good idea," agreed Mrs. Merrill,
"for early, early in the morning we shall be
getting into Boston and Uncle Hal will be there
to meet us."





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.. _`FIRST GLIMPSES OF BOSTON`:

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   FIRST GLIMPSES OF BOSTON

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"Like to be brushed?"

Mary Jane turned from the window to
see the porter standing by her, brush in hand
ready to make her tidy for getting off the train.
She looked questioningly at her mother and
Mrs. Merrill replied, "Yes, dear, let him brush
you off so you will be spick and span when we
meet Hal."

So Mary Jane followed the porter down to
the end of the aisle where he brushed and
brushed till there wasn't a speck of dust on that
pretty Peter Thompson suit.  Alice and
Mrs. Merrill had their turns next, then the porter
took their hand baggage down toward the door.

"Do we get there now, Mother?" asked Mary
Jane, "right away quick now?"

"We certainly do," answered Mrs. Merrill,
"we're there this minute.  Come girlies."

As the train came to a stop, Mary Jane looked
out of the window in the narrow hallway by the
dressing room—she wanted to be sure to get a
glimpse of the wonderful Boston she had heard
so much about.  And at the very first glance, she
spied Uncle Hal's smiling face close up outside
of her very window.  Alice saw him too and
they waved and tried to speak and he grinned
and motioned to the car door.  In a twinkle they
were off the train, Uncle Hal had picked up
their bags, and they were walking up the stairs
to the street.

Of course everybody talked at once, folks
always do when they are met at the train, but
through it all Mary Jane got the idea that they
were walking to the hotel because it was so very,
very near, and that Uncle Hal had time to visit
with them a while before he went back to
college for some last duties before Class Day.

Alice and Uncle Hal walked on ahead talking
a blue streak about teams and baseball and all
sorts of things that Mary Jane, for her part,
didn't find particularly interesting.  She was
glad to be walking with her mother so she could
look and ask all she liked.  Five minutes walk
and they were in a broad "square" framed on
every side by fine looking buildings.

"That's the library I've told you so much
about," said Mrs. Merrill nodding her head
toward the left, "and this, I think," looking
ahead to the right, "is our hotel."

She was right for just then Alice and Uncle
Hal turned into the hotel and in a very few
minutes they were all seated in the room Hal
had engaged for them so many weeks before.

"There now, he's gone and I can look
around," said Mary Jane as the door closed
behind the boy who had carried up their bags.
She slipped down from the big chair where she
had primly settled herself and began exploring.
One big bed, one little bed, lots of drawers in
dressers and cupboards, a lovely white
bathroom and, over in the corner of the room
overlooking the Square, a desk and several easy
chairs pulled together just right for visiting.

"How in the world did you know just exactly
the kind of a room I'd like?" asked Mary Jane
when she had finished her first tour of exploring.

"Well," said Uncle Hal, much pleased to
think she liked it all, "I can't say that I really
knew, but I did try pretty hard to guess."

"Now as soon as the trunk comes," continued
Mary Jane, "let's unpack it and show him our
new dresses.  We've new shoes too," she added
proudly, "for Class Day you know."

"Fine!" replied her uncle, "I know I'm going
to be proud as a peacock of my family when I
introduce them around to-morrow.  But I'll tell
you, Mary Jane," he added persuasively, "I
know how slow those expressmen are commencement
week and you don't.  Suppose we keep the
dress for a surprise to me to-morrow and go for
a walk now while I have some time."

"I'd like that," agreed Mary Jane, "only
what'll they do if the trunk comes while we are
walking?"

"They put it in your room all ready for you,"
said Uncle Hal.

"Then I'm going walking with you," announced
Mary Jane.

"And I'm going too," said Alice, "I just can't
hardly wait till I see everything."

"And I'm going too," laughed Mrs. Merrill,
as she put her hat back on, "because I don't
want to miss anything either."

"Aren't we missing something anyway?"
asked Alice as they walked from the room.

Mrs. Merrill and Hal looked back into the
room.

"No-o," she answered, "I guess not.  What
did you think we were leaving?"

"I didn't think we were leaving anything,"
said Alice half laughing, half embarrassed,
"but—"

"Oh, I know," announced Mary Jane laughingly,
"I'm missing it too.  It's breakfast."

"You don't mean to say—" exclaimed Uncle
Hal.  "That's certainly one on me!  You see,
I'm so little used to having my family come
to see me, and so very glad to see them when
they get here, that I actually forgot breakfast.
We'll have to get an extra good one to make up
for it."

And an extra good one it certainly was; for
Mary Jane had strawberries and cream and
toast and fish and hashed brown potatoes and a
cup of delicious hot cocoa with whipped cream.
While they ate, Mary Jane told Uncle Hal
more about her Class Day frock.

"It's white, and pink ribbons—lovely long
crispy ribbons," she told him, "and new shoes,
*pumps* just like grown-up ladies."  Of course
Uncle Hal was much impressed as Mary Jane
had hoped he would be, but neither he nor
Mary Jane herself would ever in the world
have guessed the trouble those pretty new pumps
were going to make before another day was over!

Breakfast finished, they went for their walk,
going through the Square and down as far as
the Commons.  The city looked fresh and clean,
after a rain the night before and the flowers in
the Commons nodded their fresh blooms and
looked as though they had grown on purpose to
make Mary Jane think Boston was beautiful.

"Now then," said Uncle Hal, looking at his
watch, "I've just time for a surprise and then
I'll have to leave you."

"Couldn't we go along to Harvard with you?"
asked Alice.

"Yes, you could," replied Uncle Hal, "want to?"

"'Deed I do," answered Alice heartily, "I
don't want to miss anything."

"Then with me you go, for even if I can't
stay with you long, you can have the ride out
and back.  But now for the surprise."

He guided them across a bridge and down a
sheltered path to a tiny lake and there riding
on the water were several great white swans.
No, they weren't swans either.  They were much
too big for real swans and there were seats on
a platform right behind.  Boats—that's what
they were of course.  Boats in the shape of
swans!

.. _`42`:

"Can we ride on them?" asked Mary Jane
breathless with excitement, "really ride on
them—people can?"

"To be sure people can," laughed Uncle Hal,
"and we're going to this very minute."

He bought four tickets while Mary Jane and
Alice climbed into the nearest seats and then he
and Mrs. Merrill sat just behind them.

"Where's the engineer?" asked Mary Jane.

"Coming," replied Uncle with a chuckle,
"there he is, now."

Mary Jane watched an elderly man step
aboard the boat and take his place on a
queer-looking seat between the wings of the "swan" and
much to her surprise he didn't start any engine:
instead he began pedaling as if he was riding
a bicycle.  The swan boat moved away from
the pier and, as the man pedaled, they rode
with a slow and stately motion out into the
little lake.

It was a queer way to ride, being bicycled
around a lake in a boat built to look like a swan
but Mary Jane loved it.  They moved slowly—just
like a swan in a fairy tale—and it didn't take
Mary Jane a minute to forget all about Boston
and the Commons and to fancy that she was a
princess in a fairy tale and that the kind swan
was drawing her in a magic boat through her
country to visit her subjects.  She didn't see the
flower beds by the side of the tiny lagoon; she
didn't see the children playing on the beach; she
didn't hear the talk Mrs. Merrill and Uncle
Hal were enjoying; she didn't even talk to Alice
sitting right by her side.  Mary Jane saw only
the magic of the fairy tale that was in her mind
and enjoyed the thrill of being a princess.

With a slight bump the swan boat touched
the dock and Uncle Hal took her hand to help
her off.

"Oh, do we have to get off?" she exclaimed in
dismay, "we've only just begun to ride!"

"Like it so well?" asked Uncle Hal, "then
you shall have a ride every day while you are
here.  I remember when I was a little kid and
came to visit Boston, I liked them a lot.  That's
why I brought you here first thing this morning.
But I guess we'll have to go now if you're
going out to Cambridge with me."

Very reluctantly Mary Jane stepped off the
boat and with a promise to herself that she
would ride again every single time she possibly
could, she trudged along behind the others.

A short walk brought them to the entrance of
the subway.  Of course Mary Jane hadn't an
idea what a subway was, for there wasn't any
such thing in any city she had ever lived in or
visited, but she gathered from what Uncle Hal
said that it must be something that took them
out to Cambridge.  But such a funny something
as it was she never would have imagined!

They went down some stairs, through a turnstile
and onto a platform.  Before Mary Jane's
eyes were used to the queer, half-darkness of
the platform, and her nose to the funny, dank
smell, there was a rumble and a roar and along
came a car.  They were crowded aboard and
again there was a rumble and roar and away
they dashed—past red lights and green lights,
past platforms and more platforms till in no
time at all (or so it seemed to Mary Jane) they
were up on a street, dashing across a long
bridge, down again in the ground and Uncle
Hal saying, "Time to get off!  We're at Cambridge!"

They hurried off and up the stairs to the
fresh air.

"That's better than the old, slow, surface car,"
said Uncle Hal as they crossed the street.

"Then the surface car must have been pretty
bad," said Mary Jane positively, "'cause this
one smells *awful* and hurries so fast you can't
see anything!"

"You're right about those two things,"
laughed Uncle Hal, "and I suggest that you
take a surface car to go back because then you
can see all the sights you want to on the way.
But of course, Mary Jane, you wanted to ride
in a subway once."

"Maybe I did," said Mary Jane, "but I think
the swan boats are lots the nicest."

Mrs. Merrill decided that they wouldn't go
into the Yard at this time; Hal would be busy
and couldn't show them around, and she much
preferred that Alice and Mary Jane should get
their first impressions of the wonderful university
when they could see it right.  So Uncle Hal
put them on a surface car for Boston and with
a promise to dine with them in their hotel, bade
them good-by.

"I just don't see why anybody would ever ride
in a cellar when they might be riding on a
bridge over a lovely river," said Mary Jane as
she looked at the Charles gleaming in the warm
June sunshine.

"They must be in an awful hurry to get
somewhere or those things would never be built,"
added Alice.

"Well, you know," laughed Mrs. Merrill,
"we're in a hurry sometimes ourselves!  We're
not always ladies of leisure as we are to-day.
And you see, it's a long ride back to Boston.
What shall we do when we get there, girls?" she
added.

"Get lunch," answered Alice promptly.

"Lunch!" exclaimed Mrs. Merrill, teasingly,
"after all that breakfast?"

"Breakfast!" said Mary Jane, teasing back,
"did we have breakfast?"

"All right then, ladies," said Mrs. Merrill,
"we'll have lunch.  And then how would you
like to take an automobile ride that Hal told
me about?  It doesn't last much over an hour
and we can see the old part of Boston, the
historic part and also the foreign district your
father was telling you about the other day."

"That would be fine, Mother," said Alice
eagerly, "don't let's stop *long* for lunch.  Let's
just eat something and go—I love to see old
places.  Remember St. Augustine, Mother?"

"Indeed I do, dear," answered Mrs. Merrill.
"Here we are at Copley Square.  I have a
feeling we had better go to our room first—there
might be a message or something.  Then we'll
get lunch and take the ride."

It was a good thing Mrs. Merrill thought to
go to the hotel and inquire for a message, for
there was one for them—one that changed all
their plans for the afternoon.





.. vspace:: 4

.. _`AN UNEXPECTED VISIT AT WELLESLEY`:

.. class:: center large bold

   AN UNEXPECTED VISIT AT WELLESLEY

.. vspace:: 2

Mrs. Merrill turned from the hotel
desk and looked in a puzzled way at the
slip of yellow paper she held in her hand.

"What *do* you suppose this means?" she said
as she came up to where the two girls were
sitting in big chairs waiting for her.  "It says,
'Phone Cambridge 2811 at once.'  Somebody
telephoned five minutes ago, the clerk said, and
was very anxious to reach me.  Now whatever
can have happened?  Hal didn't know we were
coming back here, so it couldn't be he and we
don't know another soul.  However," she added
briskly, "I needn't be so silly as to stand here
wondering when I might go to the 'phone and
find out all about it.  You stay right here,
girlies, and I'll 'phone from the booth over there
and we'll solve the mystery."

Mary Jane and Alice could hardly wait, they
were so curious and impatient to find out what
had happened.  They could see Mrs. Merrill
talking but she was too far away for them to
make out whether she was pleased or distressed
by the conversation.  In two or three minutes
though, she left the booth and came towards
them and the girls could tell by the way she was
smiling that something very nice and agreeable
had happened.

"We're to be up at the station in thirty
minutes," she announced, "the station where we
came in this morning, and Uncle Hal will meet
us and take us out to see Wellesley—what do
you think of that?"

"But, Mother," exclaimed Alice, "I thought
he had a lot of work to do?"

"He still has," said Mrs. Merrill, "but just
after we left him he got a message from one of
his friends at Wellesley telling him that the
Tree Day dance was to be given this afternoon
at the Garden Party, and that when it was first
shown it was so very wonderful, we surely
must see it."

"And so he told her we were here?" said Alice.

"He didn't have to, she already knew that,"
said Mrs. Merrill, "and her invitation included
us.  So just on a chance that we might come to
the hotel, he called up and left the message for
us.  We won't have time to change or anything,
but I guess we look all right in traveling clothes.
Let's hurry now, so's not to miss the train."

"But where's lunch?" asked Mary Jane in
dismay, "I am hungry, truly I am."

"Of course you are, dear," said Mrs. Merrill
reassuringly, "and we'll get a bite.  Hal said
there was a nice little place right on the way to
the station and if we go quickly, we'll have time
for a sandwich and a glass of milk.  Then if
that isn't enough, perhaps we can get something
later.  In fact," and she smiled mysteriously,
"I think I wouldn't worry a bit about starving
if I were you."

After that Mary Jane didn't bother about
being hungry—she was too busy wondering
what was going to happen.  They got a
sandwich, a luscious big chicken sandwich with
white meat sticking out all around the edges,
and a glass of milk, a great big glass of milk, and
that was all there was time for.  Even so they
barely got down the stairs in time for their
train.

The ride out to Wellesley was great fun, for
Uncle Hal told them stories all the way—stories
of jolly times he had had going over this same
route and of fun at Wellesley.

"When I grow up," announced Alice as they
got off at the station, "I'm coming to Wellesley
and I'm going to know some folks at Harvard
and everything just like you've been telling us
about."

"And I'm coming here too," said Mary Jane,
"I wouldn't go to any place but Wellesley 'cause
it's the very nicest."

"A lot you know about it," teased Uncle Hal,
"now why is Wellesley the nicest—can you tell
that?"

"'Cause it's near to Harvard," said Mary
Jane, and of course if she had thought all day,
she couldn't have thought up an answer that
would better please her Harvard uncle.

"We'll hop onto this trolley and ride to the
entrance to save time," said Uncle Hal as he
hailed a passing car.  They rode a very little
way, really not a nickel's worth Mary Jane said,
and found themselves at the college entrance.

Of the next hour and a half Mary Jane didn't
have a very clear understanding.  There was so
much to see that a person just couldn't see and
remember it all; and so many folks talking that
one couldn't hear everything.  But she remembered
what she could and saved it up to ask her
mother about afterward.  There were the
old-fashioned red brick buildings on the quadrangle
and the stately Tower Court where Hal's friend,
Miss Elliott, lived, and the beautiful campus
with its lovely old trees that cast an inviting
shade over the lawns.

"I'm going to study hard and come here to
college," said Alice, after they had completed
their trip around the grounds, "I think it would
be just *wonderful* to live here for four years!
And just think, Mother," she added, "in five
years I'll be coming here!"  She looked dreamily
over the beautiful place and tried to imagine
herself one of the girls in gay sport clothes
walking under those very trees.

"I'm coming here too," said Mary Jane, "and
I'll be here before so very long, won't I, Mother
dear?"

"Before we know it, at the rate you girls are
now growing," laughed Mrs. Merrill, "and
just think of the fun *I'm* going to have coming
here to 'settle my daughters' when they begin
college."

Miss Elliott found them excellent seats where
they could watch the dancing, and Mary Jane
enjoyed sitting and looking at everything quite
as much as being shown around.  She thought
the dancing wonderful and held her breath with
the joy of it as the dancers came gayly down the
shaded hill, across the open green and back up
the hill again when the dance was over.

"I'll have to learn a lot if I'm going to come
here and do all that," she whispered to her
mother when the dancers were out of sight
behind the greenery that made the background.

"No doubt about that, dear," said Mrs. Merrill,
"but just think how much you are learning
all the time!  By the time you are grown-up as
those girls are, you'll be sure to know a lot."

"Has Uncle Hal said anything about tea or
anything?" whispered Alice as the groups of
people broke up and she guessed that the
program was over.

As though they suspected what the girls might
be thinking of, Miss Elliott and Hal came up
at that minute and Uncle Hal said, "I've just
been telling Dorothy that we'll take our quarter
of a cup of tea and half a wafer that we could
get over there, some other time, and she's agreed
to let me take you all to the Inn for real tea.
Want to go or doesn't food appeal to you?"

"Um-m," said Alice, trying hard to be really
grown-up like Miss Elliott, "I think I could eat
a little if you insist."

"Here's the insisting then," laughed Uncle
Hal, and tucking her arm into his, he started
off, passed the administration building and
down Freshman Row.

Miss Elliott walked with Mrs. Merrill and
Mary Jane and pointed out the various houses
as they passed them.

"This is where you want to stay your freshman
year," she said as they passed a three-story
frame building on their left, "lots of nice girls
go there and you'll have great larks.  But you'll
have to put her application in early if you want
her to get in there, Mrs. Merrill," she advised,
"because it's one of the most popular houses."

"I think I'll put in application for both girls
as soon as I can attend to it," said Mrs. Merrill,
"for what I have seen of the college in even this
one little glimpse, has made me feel that Alice
and Mary Jane must go here.  I can't imagine
a more charming place to spend four years than
right here."

Hal and Alice had turned in to a building on
the other side of the street so Mary Jane hurried
her mother and Miss Elliott that they might
catch up.

"He engaged a table by 'phone before he came
out," said Miss Elliott, "so we know they'll be
looking for us."

"And then they'll have plenty to eat even
though there are lots of folks, won't they?" said
Mary Jane, much comforted.

Uncle Hal showed them to the table by the
window where they could eat and at the same
time see everything that might be going on
either inside or out.

Mary Jane was a bit curious as to what Uncle
Hal might offer her to eat—especially as he
didn't ask her what she wanted.  But evidently
he knew what was good, for when the tray
arrived a few minutes later it was piled up with
good things.

"I thought you didn't have time to overeat
this noon so you might like a hearty tea," he
explained as Mrs. Merrill looked with a bit of
dismay at the loaded tray.  "If you don't want
any, sister," he added, "I know some people
who can eat more than their share—and I didn't
have any lunch myself!"

There were sandwiches—olive sandwiches
and lettuce and chicken, all so dainty and pretty
that Mary Jane thought she could eat twenty
by herself she was that hungry!  And tea in
dainty gold-rimmed cups, and fudge cake with
icing as thick as the cake—almost—and cunning
little cakes and candies in paper cases.

Mary Jane watched to see how Miss Elliot
fixed her tea and then she took cloves too, just
as Miss Elliott did—though it did make a funny
taste.  Still when one is visiting college one does
as college folks do—cream and sugar is all right
for home use, but isn't grown-up enough when
one is "at college."

After tea, Miss Elliott walked down to the
station with them and told them good-by.  Mary
Jane was sorry that they weren't to see her again
but Miss Elliott explained that she would be far
too busy with her own college affairs to come to
the parties at Harvard.

"What are you thinking about so solemnly?"
asked Uncle Hal as they were riding back to
Boston, "you haven't said a word for five
minutes!"

"I'm thinking 'bout my new shoes," said
Mary Jane.  "All the girls at Wellesley had
white shoes and I've got white shoes—in the
trunk.  I'm going to wear them to-morrow and
you're going to be surprised, you are, Uncle Hal."

"I believe it," laughed Uncle Hal, "I'll wager
I'll be proud of my family."

"You won't be, if your family doesn't get back
to its room and unpack its trunk pretty soon,"
said Mrs. Merrill.

"No," she added later, when they got off the
train and he started toward their hotel, "you
aren't to go a step of the way with us.  It's right
there in plain sight and we couldn't get lost if
we tried.  Now hurry back to Cambridge and do
your work and don't you dare come to the hotel
before seven."

"And we'll unpack and press our dresses and
get everything ready for Class Day, won't we
Mother?" said Mary Jane, "I think that'll be as
much fun as seeing things."





.. vspace:: 4

.. _`CLASS DAY FUN—AND TROUBLES`:

.. class:: center large bold

   CLASS DAY FUN—AND TROUBLES

.. vspace:: 2

"They *must* be all right," said Alice, as
the girls were about through dressing for
Class Day the next morning.  "You know you
tried them on three or four times, the day we
bought them, and shoes don't change."

Mary Jane walked up and down the room
twice, looking all the while at her left shoe.
"Well," very doubtfully, "maybe they are all
right now, only they don't *feel* all right—they
don't a bit."

Mrs. Merrill sat down in the nearest chair
and looked at Mary Jane in consternation.

"You don't mean to say that now when we
are every bit ready to go to Class Day, and there
isn't time to hunt up a store, that you think your
shoes are wrong!  Why, Mary Jane, you know
you tried them on and tried them on and were
sure they were a perfect fit."

"I know it," said Mary Jane, "and they were
all right, only now there's something sticks into
my heel every time I take a step."

"Give it to me dear," replied Mrs. Merrill,
"and I'll press open the heels more.  Maybe
they are just a bit stiff.  And then I'll put your
black pumps in my bag so if these hurt you, you
can change."

"But, *Mother*!" exclaimed Mary Jane, "folks
don't wear black shoes to Class Day, not with
new organdy dresses and a pink sash!"

"To be sure they don't," agreed Mrs. Merrill,
"but black pumps would be vastly better than
blistered heels, so we'll take them along to be
sure.  Are we ready now?" she added and as
nobody objected she locked the door and they
set out for Cambridge and Class Day.

The first thing on their arrival at Harvard
was to see Uncle Hal's room.  It was on the
first floor in Matthews and was so attractive
that Mary Jane thought she would like to stay
here all day and just look at things.  Off the
main room, which was both a living room and
study, were two tiny bedrooms, one Uncle Hal's
and the other his roommate's.  Mary Jane was
fascinated by those tiny rooms.

"It's just as I'd like a house," she said to
her uncle, "a great big room with banners and
pictures and lots of things to look at and a tiny
little room all my own to keep house in."

"Do you cook your breakfast there?" asked
Alice as she spied a chafing dish in a corner.

"Heavens!  No!" laughed Hal, "what do you
think we come to Harvard for?  To practice
cooking?  No, that's only for fudge or
something—just on state occasions."

"Well, isn't this a state occasion?" asked
Alice.

"Um-m, well, yes it is," admitted Hal, as he
saw he had cornered himself, "but I'm afraid
there isn't time for fudge-making.  See, there is
the band already and it's almost time to go over
to the hall for the exercises."

Mary Jane was quite willing to give up fudge
for a band and she stood at the window
watching the yard.  It was a picture to make any
little girl—or big girl either—look long.  The
yard was gayly decorated with lanterns and
streamers, and chairs set about invited folks to
be comfortable while they visited or listened to
the band.  The walks and open spaces were
thronged with well-dressed people all eager and
happy and having a beautiful time.  The frequent
sight of a student in cap and gown, or, less
often, in the red garb of marshal, made Mary
Jane feel as though it was all a great play, and
she was thrilled to think that she—Mary Jane—only
six years old and living way off in Chicago—was
there seeing it all.  There were lots of
men and lots of women but she hadn't yet seen
a single girl as young as herself.

"I must remember every bit of it so's to tell
it to Daddah," she said to herself, as a group
of students and alumni went by singing, "I must
remember it all."

But of course a person couldn't remember it
*all*—for something was happening every minute!
The exercises in Sander's Theatre for which,
thanks to Uncle Hal's many friends, they all had
seats; lunch at the "Dickey," one of Uncle Hal's
clubs, and the procession to the Stadium.  Much
to Mary Jane's amazement, this procession was
led by *old* men—men as old as her grandfather.

"Why, do they go to Harvard, Mother?" she
asked as the old men marched by.

"Not now, dear," answered Mrs. Merrill,
"they went there years ago—oh, long ago."

"Then what are they in Uncle Hal's Class
Day for?" asked Mary Jane.

"They've come back for their re-union,"
explained Mrs. Merrill.  "They come back in
three years and ten years and twenty-five years
I think it is—you must ask Uncle Hal to be
sure, and their class has a regular get-together
party.  Then of course they come other times,
whenever they can."

"They look as though they liked to come
back," observed Mary Jane.

"They surely do," agreed Mrs. Merrill.

"I think that's fine," decided Mary Jane, "I
should think it would be fun to march and
shout and everything like that, after you'd been
a grown-up man and had to behave so much."

At the tag-end of the procession, the
onlookers fell in line and hurried over to the
Stadium where the exercises were held.  Mary
Jane was thrilled by the sight of the great
cement building, open to the blue sky and
thronged with happy-looking people.

"I like it, Mother," she whispered as they
found their seats, "I like it a lot, 'cause
everything's so pretty and it makes you feel so
good."

After the exercises were over the crowd scattered
to the various club houses for tea.  Uncle
Hal took his party first to the D.U. house where
they met some of his friends, and had lobster
salad and sandwiches and cake and ice cream
and tea.

"Better not eat too much," he advised as he
saw Mary Jane reach for a third sandwich.

"Haven't they made enough?" asked Mary Jane.

"Look at the piles on the table," laughed
Uncle Hal, "no, I guess they have enough, but
you've just begun.  You see, we have to make
the rounds of several houses and you have to eat
something at every place."

"Don't you worry about us," observed Alice,
consolingly, "we can always eat at every place,
and every time."

"All right then, go ahead, ladies," laughed
Uncle Hal.  "Bill, pass the food to my starving
family!"  And Alice and Mary Jane, both had
second helpings all around.

But by the time they had eaten lobster salad
and tea and sandwiches and ice cream and cakes
at D.U., and tea and lobster salad and sandwiches
and ice cream and cakes at the "Dickey,"
and lobster salad and sandwiches and tea and
ice cream and cakes at the "Crimson" house,
Mary Jane began to suspect that Uncle Hal's
advice about going light at first wasn't so bad
after all.

"Do they have the same things because that's
all they know how to cook or because they think
that's all we like to eat?" asked Mary Jane
when she saw her plate filled with the fifth—or
was it the sixth, she had lost count—helping
of salad.

"You can't prove it by me," laughed Uncle
Hal, "I guess it's all just the proper thing to
have on Class Day.  Don't you like it?"

"Oh, yes," replied Mary Jane, politely, "and
I *used* to like it a *lot*."

"Maybe you're not really hungry any more,"
said Uncle Hal with a teasing twinkle in his
eye, "if you can stand it not to eat for a while
suppose we dance."

He brought up one of his friends, Lawrence
Echart, to talk to Mary Jane and danced off
with Alice.

"Have you a little sister about my size?"
asked Mary of the college man she was left with.

"No, I haven't," he replied.

"I thought not," said Mary Jane.

"Now what made you think that?" asked
Hal's friend with real curiosity.

"'Cause you talk to me like I was a real
grown-up lady," explained Mary Jane.  "When
they've got a little sister like me they just bow
when Uncle Hal brings 'em up and they say
'what grade are you in in school?' and then
before I can answer they start talking to somebody
else.  But when they haven't any little sister,
they talk to me like I was a real grown-up
lady—well, anyway, as though I was as big as
Alice."

"That's funny," laughed Mr. Echart, "what
would you say if I asked you to dance with
me—like a real lady?"

"I'd say thank you, yes I will," replied Mary
Jane demurely, and much to her partner's
surprise she danced off every bit as well as he
could.

Now usually Mary Jane loved to dance; she
and Alice often danced together and both
enjoyed it and did it well.  And to-day should have
been perfect for the music was good and the
floors excellent.  But they hadn't taken a dozen
steps before sharp twinges of pain shot through
her left heel and she felt as though she couldn't
stand it another minute.

"Tired?" asked Mr. Echart, as he noticed
that something was wrong.  "Anything you'd
rather do than dance?"

"Yes," replied Mary Jane with a sudden burst
of feeling, "I'd rather take off my shoe!  Do
they have any place where folks take off their
shoes on Class Day?"

"Well," said her partner, "I can't say that
they prepare for it as a regular part of the
program, but it might be done."

"Then let's do it right away," said Mary Jane
miserably.

She hobbled down the stairs after her partner
and into a small office on the left.  There was
a great table in the center of the room, and
pulled up to it was a huge, comfortable chair.

"How will that do?" asked Mr. Echart.

"Any chair would *do*," answered Mary Jane,
"but that one is lovely!"

"Well, you sit down there, young lady," he
added, "and I'll take off that shoe."

"Oh, that feels good," she sighed with relief
as the offending shoe came off and she settled
back in comfort in the great chair.

.. _`She sighed with relief as the offending shoe came off`:

.. figure:: images/img-071.jpg
   :figclass: white-space-pre-line
   :align: center
   :alt: She sighed with relief as the offending shoe came off.

   She sighed with relief as the offending shoe came off.

"Where did it hurt?" asked Mr. Echart.

"Right there," said Mary Jane, pointing to the
back of the heel.

"That's easy," said Mr. Echart, "it's just too
stiff and likely as not has made a blister.  You
just wait till I put in a pad of soft tissue paper
and you'll see how much better it will feel."

At that minute the music stopped and Alice
and Uncle Hal appeared at the door of the room.

"You don't mean to say," demanded Hal,
"that you are letting my niece sit in the
president's chair—the sacred chair of the president
of the Crimson?"

"You didn't think you were going to keep it
yourself, did you?" laughed Lawrence, "I must
say Mary Jane looks every bit as well in it as
you did!"

"But what are you doing?" asked Hal.

"Going into the boot and shoe business—repairing
department," announced Lawrence.
"And if I don't get the job I want on the
Boston *Transcript*, I'm going to open a shop
of my own.  How's that feel, now?" he added
as he slipped the shoe back on.

Mary Jane set her foot gingerly onto the
floor.  Then, as it didn't hurt, she pressed,
harder and harder.

"It's all right," she said with great relief,
"my, but you know a lot and I'm so much
obliged!"

"You're entirely welcome," said Mr. Echart
smilingly, "we do find a college education
useful sometimes," he added teasingly, "even if it's
only for stuffing copy paper into young ladies'
shoes.  Now where do we go from here?"

"Back to the yard for the music and lights,"
said Hal, and back to the yard they all went and
found themselves chairs where they could hear
the singing and watch the beautiful picture
made by the throngs of people, the gay lights
and the gleaming fountain.





.. vspace:: 4

.. _`WINNING THE GAME`:

.. class:: center large bold

   WINNING THE GAME

.. vspace:: 2

How Class Day ended and how she got
into her own room in the hotel, Mary
Jane never in the world could have told
you.  She had a hazy recollection of singing,
and lights, and crowds of people passing and
re-passing; of more singing, and more lights,
flashing through water and of people stopping
to talk to her mother and Uncle Hal and their
friends; of Mr. Echart inquiring about her
shoe, and of Uncle Hal slipping on the black
pumps that he must have gone to his room to
get, and putting the white ones in his pocket.
And then, later, of being picked up and carried
to a taxi and of dozing comfortably against her
mother during a long ride.  But more than that
she didn't know.

And now the sun was shining and her mother
was standing at the side of the bed, dressed and
ready to go and asking if Mary Jane was ever
going to wake up.

"Is it all over?" asked Mary Jane sleepily,
"Class Day and everything all over?"

"Class Day is over," replied Mrs. Merrill,
"but everything isn't.  Don't you remember that
to-day is the game, the baseball game between
Harvard and Yale?"

"Oh, yes," said Mary Jane sitting up in bed
and wide awake at once, "it's the game Harvard
wins and we see 'em do it."

"You certainly are loyal enough to suit even
your Uncle Hal!" exclaimed Mrs. Merrill
laughingly.  "He never will forget how you
told everyone within hearing that you were
going to Harvard when you grew up."

"Did I really, Mother?" cried Mary Jane in
dismay, "when?"  She forgot all about being
sleepy and sat straight up in bed.

"Yes, my dear, you did," replied Mrs. Merrill.
"When Hal was trying to wake you up
enough to get you into the taxi you said you
didn't want to leave Harvard and that you were
going to be president of the Crimson like Uncle
Hal.  And then, when he told you that you
were too young, you announced that you were
coming when you grew up."

"Well, anyway, Mother," interrupted Alice
anxious to comfort her sister, "we *are* coming
to Wellesley, you know, that's all settled and
Wellesley is *almost* Harvard."

"Don't you worry!" laughed Mrs. Merrill,
"Uncle Hal wasn't bothered.  He was so proud
to have you like it all and so pleased the way
you met all his friends, that he liked to have you
want to come—you just ask him to-day and
you'll see.

"Now," she continued briskly, "I know
you're sleepy, but you hurry up and jump into
the tub.  I have the water ready, and then when
you're through, you'll find a lovely surprise."

"Do I know, Mother?" asked Alice.

"No," replied Mrs. Merrill, "and you never
in the world could guess, so don't try.  While
Mary Jane tubs, I'll brush and braid your hair
and by that time the surprise will be coming and
you'll be ready for it.  And don't hurry *too*
fast, Mary Jane," she added, "you want to scrub
as well as tub, you know."

It was a good thing she gave that warning, for
even with a warning Mary Jane hurried so
furiously fast that there was no time wasted over
details.  But she felt fresh and clean anyway
and was wide awake and glowing from her rub.

"Now where's the surprise?" she asked.

"Slip into the bathroom again both of
you—scoot!" and at that minute there was a loud
knock on the door.

"Now whatever do you suppose—" wondered
Alice as she heard her mother open the
door of the room and talk to someone.

They had not long to wait—fortunately.  A
couple of minutes and Mrs. Merrill opened the
bathroom door and—what do you suppose they saw?

Drawn up near the windows that overlooked
Copley Square was a cunning little table and on
the table was—you never would guess—breakfast
for three!  Strawberries and cream and
cereal and milk and eggs and toast and hashed
brown potatoes—the hot things all on silver
dishes and covered with big silver covers to
keep them nice and hot while the fruit and
cereal were being eaten.

"Mother!" exclaimed Mary Jane, and then
she stopped for she couldn't think of anything
to say.

"How'd you ever think of it?" asked Alice.

"I didn't," answered Mrs. Merrill, and the
girls saw that she was as pleased as they were
with the idea.  "Hal thought of it.  When he
brought us up last night he suggested that
maybe we'd be tired this morning and that we
shouldn't hurry.  He said he'd order it as he
went away and that I should ring when we were
ready and they'd bring it up."

"And you did, and *they* did," added Mary
Jane, not very intelligently to be sure, but they
all knew what she meant.

"How did he know what to order?" asked
Alice as she took the first luscious bit of strawberry.

"I guess he just ordered what he saw you
liked yesterday, which was a very good way to
do," said Mrs. Merrill.  "Now while we eat,
let's plan what to do to-day."

"When is the game?" asked Alice.

"Not till afternoon," replied Mrs. Merrill.
"I thought maybe this morning would be a
good time to take that ride through Boston that
we didn't get on Monday—that won't tire us,
and anyway, we'll just be sitting at the game, it
won't be a lot of walking like yesterday."

"And I won't wear white shoes, will I?" asked
Mary Jane with a pang of recollection.

"You poor child!" cried Mrs. Merrill, "as
soon as we get through breakfast I must see
about those shoes and your foot!  I can't see
why they should have given so much trouble
when they seemed all right."

"I guess they're all right now," said Mary
Jane, "but when are we going to ride on the
swan boats?  Uncle Hal said I could ride every
day and we didn't even go there yesterday!"

"I thought we had enough to do yesterday as
it was," laughed Mrs. Merrill.  "Let's see, we
might go there at the end of our ride.  We are
having such a late breakfast too that we won't
want much lunch—would that be all right?"

Breakfast over, Alice finished dressing while
Mary Jane had her hair brushed and the big
ribbon tied on; then she finished dressing while
her mother and Alice got out hats and tidied
the room ready to go.  Mary Jane would have
loved to linger all morning at the window, for
the comfy chairs felt so good and there was
always something interesting to watch in the
Square below.  But when one goes to Boston,
they don't seem to expect to sit in chairs at
windows; they seem to hurry around and see
something every minute—Mary Jane had discovered
that.

They went nearly halfway around the Square,
leaving Mary Jane's shoes at a little basement
shop they were referred to on the way, and then
they got into a great blue automobile that took
folks around the city.  Mary Jane tried to
remember everything they saw, for she could tell
that when she grew up big like Alice and was
in eighth grade as Alice was, she too would
want to know all about the historical sights they
were seeing.  Alice seemed to know all about
the Old South Church, the Boston Navy Yard,
the first court house and the funny, narrow
winding streets.  For her part, Mary Jane liked
the Navy Yard best, for there they got out of
the car and saw many sorts of government boats.
Also they had the fun of going all over the old
ship *Constitution*—a famous boat of long ago.
Mary Jane thought the funny little cannon they
used in those days looked very queer compared
with the great big guns they could see on the
boats in use now—they looked like toy cannon
ready for a boy's Fourth of July!

Back in the big auto again they drove through
the tenement district, and there Mary Jane held
her breath many a time for the streets were so
*very* narrow, the buildings so high and close, and
the ragged, hungry looking children ran across
the streets in a reckless way that frightened
Mary Jane nearly to death.  She was glad when
they left that part of the city and drove to see
Bunker Hill Monument.

It seemed a very small monument to make
such a fuss about, but Mrs. Merrill explained
that monuments are important not for their size
but for what they celebrate.

"It does seem too bad, though," said Mary
Jane thoughtfully as they turned away to go
back to the car, "that the battle of Bunker Hill
couldn't have been where those poor children
want to play!  Here's a lovely park and there,
why, there isn't anything but a narrow street!
When I grow up, I'm going to have a park for
everybody—that's the way things ought to be."

Mrs. Merrill had the driver let them out at
the entrance to the Commons instead of Copley
Square, and they walked over to the lagoon to
take the ride in the swan boats.

"I think this is the nicest thing to do!"
exclaimed Mary Jane happily as the boat slowly
paddled away from the tiny dock.  "I feel so
grand and story-book-y!"

"Do you suppose we could ever come here
and just ride and ride and ride?" she added,
"I'd just love to ride all day!"

"Let me see," said Mrs. Merrill thoughtfully,
"I'm afraid we couldn't ride all day, dear, but
we might come again after the game this
afternoon and get two or three rides.  You know a
friend of Uncle Hal's is going to take us on a
drive to-morrow and there's something planned
for every single day."

"Well, then," said Mary Jane, "let's come
whenever we can—and oh, I do just love it,
I do!"

After a hurried bit of primping at their room
the Merrills took the subway to Cambridge
where they met Uncle Hal and went to the
game.  Crowds of gayly-dressed people were
all hurrying the same way, bands were playing
and colors flying, and Mary Jane got so thrilled
that for a while she forgot all about the swan
boats.  Hal had not been able to get seats all
together—one rarely could, he explained; so it
was decided that Alice, who was looking (and
feeling) very grown-up with her striped sport
skirt, blue smock and white sport hat, should sit
a few rows away with Lawrence Echart, while
Hal and Mrs. Merrill and Mary Jane should
sit together.

Alice's seat was halfway down in the middle
of the stand and the others were up on the very
top row.  At first Mary Jane was very frightened;
she couldn't stand up, she couldn't look
around, for right there behind her was the end
of the grandstand and the long, long way down
to the ground—straight down.  But gradually
she got more used to it and she peeked around
just a wee, tiny bit.

And there, right in the next row, was a boy
about her own age shouting for—Yale!

"Why!" exclaimed Mary Jane in amazement,
"he wants Yale to beat!"

"Some people do!" laughed Hal, much amused.

"But *Yale*!" exclaimed Mary Jane, "why—why—I
thought *everybody* went to Harvard!"

The folks around her couldn't help but hear
and they couldn't help being amused at her
frankness.  One kindly-looking gentleman just
in front turned around and said, "Yes, my dear,
folks *do* go to Yale—I did it myself."  And
everyone laughed.

Usually Mary Jane was very quiet, but the
bands and flying colors and crowds of people
must have excited her, for she suddenly forgot
all about the long distance to the ground—just
behind; she grabbed her mother's hand and
climbed up on the bench; she waved her
crimson banner high over her head and shouted at
the top of her small voice, "I'm for Harvard!
I want Harvard to win!"

And sure enough, Harvard did.





.. vspace:: 4

.. _`THE ADVENTURE BY THE LAGOON`:

.. class:: center large bold

   THE ADVENTURE BY THE LAGOON

.. vspace:: 2

"Do you think you two girls will be all
right here while Hal and I sit over
there and visit awhile?" asked Mrs. Merrill.

It was the late afternoon of the game and the
Merrills, with Hal, had driven in to Boston
with some friends of Hal's and now were sitting
in the Commons trying to keep the promise to
Mary Jane to let her ride all she wished in the
swan boats.

It seemed a hopeless promise to keep though,
for no sooner had they taken one ride than Mary
Jane was ready for another, and another and
another.  Finally Mrs. Merrill suggested that
as she and Hal had many things to talk about,
they might sit at the side of the lagoon and let
the two girls ride by themselves; Alice was old
enough to make such a plan perfectly safe and
anyway there was no danger, for Mary Jane was
big enough to look after herself on the boat.

"Surely!" said Alice replying to her mother's
question, "you sit right over there and we'll be
safe as safe can be."

"And if we run out of money for rides," added
practical Mary Jane, "we'll come and tell you."

"I'll save you the trouble," said Uncle Hal,
"I'll buy a bunch of tickets that you never can
use up!"  And much to Mary Jane's delight, he
went over to the window where the tickets were
sold and bought fifty cents' worth—ten whole
rides—five for each girl.

"Thank you ever so much, Uncle Hal," said
Mary Jane gratefully, "and if you change your
mind and want to ride, I'll let you have one of
my tickets," she promised as he handed her five
all for herself.

"Yes," added Alice, "and if mother wants to
ride again, I'll let her have one of mine."

"Thanks awfully, ladies," said Hal laughing,
"but I think sister and I will enjoy the talking
every bit as much as you enjoy the riding, so
everybody will be happy."

Mary Jane thought she never, never, never
had had such a blissful time!  The sun, halfway
down in the west, was just warm enough; a soft
June breeze blew the lagoon into tiny ripples
and made the air cool and comfortable after the
warm day; flowers blooming on the bank filled
the air with dainty fragrance and, best of all,
there were those magic boats—and five tickets
all her own.  She and Alice picked out the front
seat in the boat they thought the prettiest and
there they sat.  They didn't even trouble to get
off when one ride was over; they simply sat still
while the two or three other passengers stepped
off at the dock and two or three other passengers
stepped on, and then off the boat went again on
its slow, stately journey around the little lake.

But at the end of the third ride they noticed
some talking at the side of the dock furtherest
away from where Mrs. Merrill and Hal were
sitting, and Alice stood up to see what was the
matter.

"Look at that child!" exclaimed Alice.
"Look, Mary Jane, at what she's doing!  She's
trying to make her doll sit on the edge of the
dock, and anybody would know a doll couldn't
do that!"

Evidently everyone around there except the
little lady herself was of the same opinion as
Alice, for the other children were trying to tell
her that the doll couldn't sit there; that she
would fall in surely, surely, if such a thing was
attempted.

"And it's such a pretty doll too," worried
Mary Jane.  "Come on, Alice, let's get off and
tell her not to do it.  Maybe she'll mind us
'cause she doesn't know us."

But they were too late.  Just as they stepped
off the swan boat ready to hurry over to the end
of the dock where the children were, the little
lady succeeded in getting the doll set stiff and
straight at the very edge of the dock.  For a
breathless instant the doll sat there.  Then, so
quickly nobody could reach out a hand or do a
thing, the prettily-dressed doll tumbled over on
its face—splash!—into the lagoon.

For an instant the children all stood motionless
in amazement.  Then the little mother
began to cry, "My dolly's drowned!  My dolly's
drowned!  I didn't want my dolly to drown!"

"Then what did you sit her on the edge of
the dock for?" demanded an older boy who had
tried with the others to tell her that the doll
might fall in.

"'Cause I wanted her to sit there!" retorted
the girl, "that's why!"  Then with a sudden
recollection of her loss, the impudence left her
and she sat down on the dock and began to cry.

"Let's call for help," suggested Mary Jane,
and she looked around to see just where her
mother and uncle were sitting.

"Call nothing!" exclaimed the big boy, "do
you want to get us all run in?  Ain't you got
no sense?"

Mary Jane looked at him in amazement.
What was "run in" and why not call for help
when a beautiful doll was drowned?

Alice, too, was surprised at the boy's attitude
but being his own age she wasn't backward
about asking for an explanation.

"Why not call for help?" she demanded.
"How are you going to get the doll out?"

"Don't you worry about that," he said tartly,
and then, more politely, he explained, "the park
cop told us not to stay close by the water, and
here she went and let her doll fall in and if we
holler he'll hear sure as shooting and come and
order us on.  You just stop crying now," he said
to the little mother who, frightened by his order
to keep still was crying softly to herself, "we'll
get her out for you—you just wait!"

"Is she your sister?" asked Alice.

"Sister—nothing!" replied the boy, "think
my sister would have such a fine doll?  That's
my sister," he added, jerking his thumb toward
a ragged little girl on the edge of the group,
"my sister ain't got no doll—but she ain't a cry
baby either!" he added.

Alice looked interestedly at the child thus
pointed out.  She was a bright, pretty looking
little girl with oh, such a poor dress—and no
doll?  Why she was just Mary Jane's age—but
this was no time to stand looking at other
folks, and she turned to the water to see what
could be done.

Mary Jane, in the meantime, had crept up to
the edge of the dock and was peering down into
the clear water.

"There it is," she said, pointing, "see?  It's
right down there!  Now, don't you cry, we're
going to get it out in a jiffy.  I wish I had a
long stick to poke with."

"You don't need a stick," said the big boy,
peering over beside her.  "See how shallow it
is?  And a stick would just stir up mud and get
its clothes all dirty."

"I could pretty nearly reach it without a
stick," suggested Mary Jane as she sat on the
pier and reached down into the water.

"That's an idea," exclaimed the boy, "that's
just what I'm going to do."  He proceeded to
lie down flat on the narrow dock and stretch
his hands down into the water.

"You almost touched it!" exclaimed Mary
Jane excitedly, "just reach a little more—"

.. _`"You almost touched it!" exclaimed Mary Jane`:

.. figure:: images/img-097.jpg
   :figclass: white-space-pre-line
   :align: center
   :alt: "You almost touched it!" exclaimed Mary Jane.

   "You almost touched it!" exclaimed Mary Jane.

"But I can't reach any more!" said the boy,
"see?"  And he looked up for a suggestion.
"Oh, I'll tell you what!" he added, "I'll reach
over farther and you hold my feet so I won't
fall in.  Then I'll reach down with one hand
and I'll bet I get it."

He wormed himself closer to the edge of the
dock and while Alice held tightly to his shoes,
he reached down, down, down into the water.

"He's got it," reported Mary Jane, who was
watching, "he's touched it and he's got
it—look!"

Sure enough.  The boy wiggled back a bit
from the very edge and lifted the dripping doll
out of the water.

"Oh, my dolly!  My dolly!" cried the little
mother, "but she's all wet!"

"What did you expect after such a soaking?"
chuckled the boy, "but water'll dry.  My coat's
wet but it'll dry in this warm air."  He took off
his coat and spread it out in the sun on the dock.

"And that's what you must do to your doll,"
said Mary Jane.  She loved nothing so much as
mothering folks—children, dolls—it didn't
matter which just so they needed something done
for them.  "Here, let me help you and we'll
have her fixed in a jiffy."

She sat down on the dock, with the little
mother beside her, and began to undress the
soaked dolly.  "Now we'll take off her
dress—so.  And then her petticoat—so.  And we'll
spread 'em all out in the sun—so."

"Why don't you spread 'em on a bush?" asked
the boy practically, "that's what I do when I
go swimming."

"Here, I'll do it," said his sister, and the shy
little brown-eyed girl forgot all about herself
and being afraid of strangers in her eagerness
to touch the doll's pretty wet clothes.

"Then you do it," agreed Mary Jane.  Very
carefully she took off stockings, shoes, underclothes,
every stitch the doll had on and the little
Italian girl spread the things on the bushes in
the sunshine.

"You ought to spread the doll too," said Alice,
"she's so wet the clothes get wet as soon as you
put them back on."

"I'll tell you," suggested Mary Jane jumping
up hurriedly, "let's get mother and Uncle Hal
to hold it in the sun while we take a ride on
the swan boat."

"Y'haf ta have money to ride those boats,"
replied the boy, "and we ain't got none."

"You don't have to have money if you have
tickets," answered Mary Jane, "and I've got
plenty of those—see?"  And proudly she
displayed the tickets she had put in her pocket
when she began undressing the doll.  "Come
on, lets!"

Holding the undressed doll in her hands, she
ran around the lagoon to where her mother was
sitting.  "Mother!" she exclaimed suddenly,
"will you please hold this doll in the sun so it'll
dry while I take these folks for a ride?"

"What in the world?" exclaimed Mrs. Merrill
in amazement as she saw the strange children,
the dripping doll and her own excited
little girl.

"She drowned," explained Mary Jane, pointing
to the doll, "and he rescued her," pointing
to the boy, "and we're all going to take a ride."

Hal looked at the children and suspected that
they were to be Mary Jane's guests—with the
exception of the little girl who owned the doll
they were ragged and poor looking, so he
asked, "Have enough tickets, Mary Jane?"

"Just enough," replied Mary Jane, "with
Alice's and mine together."

"Then we'll hold the doll and watch you
ride," said Mrs. Merrill.

The children scampered over to the dock and
got aboard a boat.  The little Italian girl sat
with Alice and Mary Jane and the others took
the back seat.

"Oh!" exclaimed the child rapturously, as the
boat slowly moved away from the shore, "ain't
it just like a fairy story?"

"You like stories too!" cried Mary Jane
delightedly, "so do I and I feel just like a
princess.  I do every time I ride on 'em."

"I never rode on one before," said the
stranger, "but I feel like a princess now, I do."

"Never rode on a swan boat, never had a
doll," the thought kept running through Mary
Jane's head during the rest of the ride and while
they were getting off and going back to her
mother, "never had a doll—"  How funny that
would seem!

The rescued doll was not dry yet, of course,
but Uncle Hal had procured a paper to wrap it
in, so that it could be carried home safely.

"We'll get the clothes and wrap them up too,"
said Alice, and Mary Jane, and the mother of
the doll ran and brought the clothes from the
bush at the other side of the lagoon, and Alice
wrapped them carefully so nothing could be lost
out on the way home.

While she was doing that, Mary Jane whispered
to her mother, "Won't you please find
out the name of that little girl with the brown
eyes, and the boy, Mother dear, and where they
live, and I'll tell you why when we get home to
the hotel?"

Mrs. Merrill pulled out her tiny notebook
and tactfully asking the boy for his name and
address, wrote them down in the book.  Then
they all said a good-by to their new friends, for
it was now high time they were getting back to
dress for dinner.

"Mother dear," said Mary Jane as she
skipped along beside her mother five minutes
later, "that little girl never had a doll and she
never went on the boats before though she lives
right here in Boston.  And as soon as we get
home I want to send her a doll, all dressed in
pretty clothes and everything—may I please?"

"Indeed yes, dear," answered Mrs. Merrill,
much pleased with the idea.  "We'll do it just
as soon as we get home, and you and Alice may
make the clothes and have it a really gift of
your own."

When, an hour or more after dinner that
evening, Mary Jane snuggled down in her bed for
a long night's sleep, she said to Alice, "Didn't
we have fun to-day?  Winning the game and
going boat riding and rescuing the doll and
everything?  Now I wonder what'll happen
to-morrow?"





.. vspace:: 4

.. _`COMMENCEMENT IN THE STADIUM`:

.. class:: center large bold

   COMMENCEMENT IN THE STADIUM

.. vspace:: 2

The first thing Mary Jane did when she
wakened the next morning was to run
and look out of the window.  All their plans
for the day depended upon the weather.  Year
after year the Harvard commencement had been
held in Sanders Theatre, one of the rooms in
Memorial Hall, and as the graduating class was
always so large and the theatre so small in
comparison, it was impossible for each student to
have more than one ticket—and of course that
meant that Mary Jane was not to go.  But this
year, partly through the influence of her own
Uncle Hal, it had been decided to hold the
exercises in the Stadium—if the weather permitted.
And that meant that Mary Jane could go; in
fact, she had the ticket all ready, the ticket
marked so plainly "not good in case of rain."

A glance at the sky showed her she was not to
be disappointed.  It was clear and blue and the
few dainty white clouds scattered about looked
as unlike rain clouds as could be.  It was a
perfect June day.

"Goody!" she exclaimed, as she ran back to
take a peep at the precious ticket.  Not many
little girls of six ever went to a Harvard
commencement, and Mary Jane guessed that she was
very fortunate.

Mrs. Merrill suggested that as both girls had
had a good night's sleep, they dress and take a
bit of a walk before breakfast, stopping on the
way for Mary Jane's shoes which were to be
ready.  So Mary Jane slipped on a dark gingham
dress after her bath, and they started out.
There was only time for a short walk as they
were tempted into the library and lingered to
enjoy the pictures.  Mary Jane knew the story
of the Holy Grail, as every girl should, and she
and Alice both enjoyed looking at the lovely
paintings.

"Let's come again!" exclaimed Alice as her
mother reminded them that they simply must
not stay any longer now, as Uncle Hal would be
waiting.

"Oh, I just love it here!" whispered Mary
Jane as they walked down the broad marble
staircase.  "Doesn't it make you feel like a
princess in your own castle?  I can just see my
subjects walking behind holding up my train and
thinking how grand and lovely I look."

"Seems to me a good many things make you
feel 'like a princess,'" said Mrs. Merrill
smilingly, "the swan boats and now the marble stairs
of the library."

"Well, I guess Boston must be a princess-y
sort of a place," replied Mary Jane, "'cause I
never felt that way in Chicago.  I like Boston.
I like Chicago too," she added loyally, "but
Boston is more princess-y feeling."

They crossed the Square and hurried up to
their room to dress.  The girls were to wear the
dainty little organdies they had worn on Class
Day.  Mrs. Merrill had had them pressed and
when the girls stepped into the room there they
were on the beds—as fresh and crisp as new.
And now that the new shoes were fixed with a
soft pad of leather at the heel to keep them
from slipping up and down and making a
blister, there was nothing likely to mar the day.

It didn't take long to dress as everything was
laid out ready, and soon the three Merrills were
in the subway, dashing out to meet Uncle Hal
at Harvard Square.  There wasn't much time
for visiting; and anyway, Mary Jane didn't feel
much like visiting just "common-like" with a
queer-looking uncle who wore a long black
dress and had a funny pointed cap on his head.
Her mother explained that it was a "gown" not
a dress, and that all the students who graduated
that day and all the men of the university wore
them.  Mary Jane had, of course, seen a good
many of them on Class Day but she couldn't get
used to her own Uncle Hal having such a funny
gown.

They all went over toward the Stadium
together, and as they stepped upon the bridge
across the Charles River, Uncle Hal picked her
up and set her on his shoulder while Mrs. Merrill
took a picture of them.

"There now," said Hal as he set her down
again, "if anybody ever doubts that you came to
my commencement they can just look at that!
There's the Charles River in it and the Stadium
in the background and you and I in front—if
we didn't break the camera."

In the row in front of them, in the Stadium,
sat Hal's friends, Mr. and Mrs. Humphrey.
Alice and Mary Jane had never met them before,
though Mrs. Merrill had known them some
time.

"I'm so sorry you've been here all these days
and we've been away," exclaimed Mrs. Humphrey,
as the Merrills were seated.  "We just
got in this morning.  I'm wondering if you and
these nice girls wouldn't like to go for a drive
this afternoon?  Have you been down on the
south shore?  Toward Nantasket?"

"We haven't done a thing but Harvard!"
laughed Mrs. Merrill, "because Hal wanted us
to go to all the exercises and parties.  We've
had a marvelous time, but aside from one short
ride, we haven't tried to see anything of
Boston—I thought that would keep till the job of
graduating my brother was over," she added.

"That's just the way I knew you would feel,"
answered Mrs. Humphrey, "because I know
how Hal's been counting all winter on your
seeing everything.  But now that it's so soon
over you'll have time for a ride with us.  You're
not going to the boat races are you?"

"No," said Mrs. Merrill, "I thought that
would be almost too much of a crowd for the
girls, so we've planned to go to Plymouth
to-morrow while Hal and some friends go to the
boat race, and then I want to stop over night
with a dear cousin in Marshfield."

The talk was interrupted just then by the
arrival of the first of the long procession of men
entering the Stadium.  Mary Jane could hardly
sit still she was so thrilled by the sight of the
long line of marching men—all in black gowns
relieved here and there by the capes of scarlet
or blue or purple some wore.  And the bands
playing and the crowds of people all interestedly
watching—of course she couldn't understand
it all, but she loved seeing it—it seemed
like a scene from an old time pageant.

But by the time the exercises were over Mary
Jane was tired enough from sitting on the hard
stone seat and from watching and trying to
understand.  So the idea of lunch at some place
in Cambridge without waiting to go back to
Boston, sounded very welcome.

"We'll go where Uncle Hal goes sometimes,"
suggested Mrs. Merrill.  "I know the very
place on the way back to the Square.  You may
have a sandwich and some ice cream and
anything else they have, that you'd like."

"And is it all over?" asked Mary Jane as
she ran along beside her mother, glad of the
chance to hurry a bit and limber up the muscles
stiffened by long sitting.

"All over, I think, honey," replied Mrs. Merrill.
"All over for us anyway, as we're not going
to the races.  And won't we love that ride this
afternoon?  Hal will be busy packing up, and
we'll get just that extra bit of fun thrown in."

Mary Jane found just what she wanted for
lunch and was much refreshed, so, leaving a
note in Hal's room in order that he would know
their plans, they took the subway back to their
hotel to change and make ready for the drive.
White organdy dresses were not the most
suitable frocks for an all-afternoon motor trip.


Promptly at two o'clock Mrs. Humphrey
arrived in a beautiful limousine.  Mary Jane,
who wasn't used to a car of her own, had
puzzled considerably as to what sort of a car
Mrs. Humphrey might have, and had insisted that she
wanted to wear a grown-up-lady veil so as not
to muss her hair.

"You won't need a veil, dear," Mrs. Merrill
had said, positively, "little girls don't need veils
when their hair is short, no matter what kind
of a car they ride in."

"But I saw a picture that had a little girl with
a veil and a lady with a veil," said Mary Jane,
"and I want to wear the big pink one, I do."

"Suppose you take it instead of wearing it,"
suggested Mrs. Merrill.  "Then you'll have it
if you need it, and you won't be bothered taking
it off if you don't need it."

So Mary Jane went out to the car carrying a
long floating veil of pink chiffon, and from her
grand manner it was plain to see that again she
felt "just like a princess."

Mrs. Merrill sat with Mrs. Humphrey in the
big back seat and Alice and Mary Jane sat on
the chairs just in front of them.

Mary Jane was much thrilled by the dignified
looks of the middle-aged chauffeur and when
Mrs. Humphrey said, "We're ready now, Higgins,
drive down the south shore the way we
like best, you know the route?" she couldn't
keep her enthusiasm to herself.

"I think Higgins is an awfully nice name,"
she confided to Mrs. Humphrey.  "I read a
book, that is, mother read it to me, and it had
a Higgins in it and I liked him a lot.  I always
thought I'd like to talk to a Higgins.

"Does yours talk again?" she added as she
saw no sign of conversation in the straight
shoulder before her.

Mrs. Humphrey's lip twitched.  How explain
to eager little Mary Jane that Higgins was
so dignified everyone had to be careful of his
feelings?  Higgins was the most dignified of all
the story-book Higginses ever invented!  So she
merely said, "I think he's rather busy driving
just now, and we want to have a careful driver,
don't we dear?"  And then, in an effort to
change the subject she added, "Isn't that a lovely
garden?"

But Mary Jane wasn't that easily diverted
and Higgins was very much on her mind—as
Mrs. Humphrey was to discover later.





.. vspace:: 4

.. _`FUN ON THE BEACH`:

.. class:: center large bold

   FUN ON THE BEACH

.. vspace:: 2

The drive down the south shore was very
beautiful; the girls both enjoyed the
glimpses they saw of Quincy, Hingham and
Neponset—the quaint old-fashioned houses, so
different from anything they had ever seen
before, the lovely gardens and the view of the
bay and various inlets that they caught from
time to time.  The road was good and the
powerful car dashed along under the wide
spreading trees that edged the roads.  The girls
were much refreshed by this sort of entertainment.

But Mary Jane was disappointed by one thing—it
wasn't really windy enough to *need* a veil.
And she did want to wear one.  As they neared
the ocean though, they felt a stronger breeze,
a breeze that came gustily through the open
windows of the limousine, and she felt justified
in using the veil she had carried over her arm.
It wasn't particularly easy to adjust a veil two
yards long while they were driving so rapidly,
and Alice had to help her sister, for Mary Jane
insisted in putting it entirely over her hat and
tying it under her chin.

Mrs. Merrill and Mrs. Humphrey were busy
talking and didn't notice what Mary Jane was
doing till the veil was almost fixed.  Then
Mrs. Humphrey noticed it, and was all regret for
coming this route.

"My dear!" she exclaimed to Mrs. Merrill,
"I didn't know your little girl was so delicate!
We should never have come this way!  We could
just as well have driven west and then she
wouldn't have felt this awful wind from the
ocean!  Why, it's just too bad!  We'll have
Higgins turn around at once!  I should have
asked you, only your little girl *looked* so strong
and I thought she and her sister might like to
go in bathing at the beach.  Such a dear little
thing to watch and put the veil on herself at the
first breath!  My nephew's children are so
careless—they never *will* wrap up as—"

There seemed no hope of the good lady ever
stopping, so Mrs. Merrill interrupted to say,
"Don't be a bit concerned, Mrs. Humphrey,
Mary Jane is not delicate—in fact she is very
strong and vigorous.  But she did want to wear
a veil and pretend to be grown-up, and she has
taken advantage of the first breeze to think she
must put it on."

Mary Jane was panic-stricken.  She wasn't
sick; she'd love to go swimming in the ocean,
and the very thought of leaving that pretty
beach they were just approaching and turning
west made her sorry.  What *had* she done by
putting on her veil?

"Don't you worry 'bout me," she said to
Mrs. Humphrey, "I'm never sick.  But I like to wear
a veil—a big lady veil.  Don't you like to, too?
But I like to go swimming too, I do."

"Very well then," said Mrs. Humphrey,
smilingly, "you shall go swimming.  I guess I don't
understand little girls very well.  But I know
they always like to come to the beach and they
like to eat—oh, 'most anything."

"Then you know them pretty well after all,"
said Alice laughing.

"But they can't eat before they swim," said
Mary Jane, "little girls can't."

"To be sure," agreed Mrs. Humphrey as the
car came to a stop on the shining sand, "but if
they go in the water at once—they won't have
to wait long to eat, will they?"

As the girls climbed out of the car they
decided that Mrs. Humphrey knew considerable
about girls even if she didn't happen to
understand Mary Jane's notions about wanting to
dress up like grown folks.

At the right hand end of the long beach was
a private clubhouse where Mr. Humphrey had
a membership, and there Mrs. Humphrey took
Alice and Mary Jane to fit them out with
bathing suits.

"I wish someone we knew was here to go in
with you," said she worriedly, as they walked
toward the beach after the girls had dressed.
"Of course Higgins is bringing lap rugs down
close to the water and your mother and I will
sit right there near.  But you could have more
fun with the big waves, if someone could take
you out."

They threaded their way through the crowds
of folks on the sand to the spot where
Mrs. Humphrey thought the cleanest, nicest sand was
found, and there—just as though he had been
there all afternoon—was Uncle Hal and three
of his friends!

"I thought you were going to pack!"
exclaimed Mrs. Merrill in amazement.

"So I was," laughed Hal, "but why pack
when I could go in swimming?"

"But how did you happen to come here?"
asked Alice.

"I didn't 'happen,'" Hal assured her.  "Art
came over and said you were coming down here,
and as it turned off so hot, wouldn't I like a
swim, and I would—so here we are.  Want some
good company?"

"'Deed we do!" Mary Jane assured him, and
much relieved, Mrs. Merrill and Mrs. Humphrey
sat down on the rugs to continue their
visit while the two girls, with the four college
men for escorts, raced down into the water.

Mary Jane supposed she would have had fun
on the beach, wading by the edge of the big
waves even if Uncle Hal had not come.  But it
wouldn't have been fun such as she and Alice
had with him there.  The great waves rolled in
and broke in a crest of foam near the shore and
then spread in a frill of bubbles over the golden
sand.  Uncle Hal picked her up in his arms and
walked with her way out into the water; then,
holding her high, let her feel the "break" of the
waves close to her face.  She shouted with glee
and splashed her hands in the crest of
foam—never had she had such fun!

Then, taking her out deeper, where the waves
did not break but rolled along in a great swell,
he held her tightly by her bathing suit and
under her chin and let her swim.  It was fun
to feel the water rolling, to let herself go as
Uncle Hal told her to, and to breathe slowly
and comfortably and work her hands and feet,
feeling all the while the security of her uncle's
strong arm.

"Let's do it some more!" she cried, as he took
her in to shore.

"Pretty soon," he replied, "but you stay on the
sand awhile now with Alice while I swim out
to the raft to warm up.  Then you shall have
another swim—two, if you want them."

Back on the sand with Alice, Mary Jane
found it nearly as much fun to dig and hunt
shells as it was to swim.  There seemed to be
no pretty shells as there were on the beaches in
Florida; perhaps because the crowds of people
kept them picked over; perhaps because up
further north there were not such pretty shells
to be washed up.  But there were plenty to build
a wall with even if all were not beautiful and
perfect.  She and Alice collected several
handfuls and then set about building a city with a
wall around it.  Other children playing near
saw the plan and helped too, and in a few
minutes a dozen little folks were working under
Alice's direction, building streets, parks, houses,
churches and the outer wall.  It was great fun
and as they worked the time sped by, one hour,
two, and the girls would have guessed it wasn't
more than ten minutes.

They were used to playing on the sandy beach
of Lake Michigan and even Alice, who knew
all about it, didn't think about the ocean's tides.
And as all the children were in their bathing
suits they didn't notice an occasional bit of
wetness.  So it was with amazement they saw a
great wave roll up near and actually into their
precious city!

"Why, what's the matter with the ocean?"
exclaimed Mary Jane in dismay, "it's coming
into our city, and it mustn't!"

"Matter with the ocean!" cried Alice, much
disgusted with her thoughtlessness.  "It's the
tide.  Don't you remember in Florida how it
went up and down the beach each day, Mary
Jane?  We should have remembered and set our
city further from the edge of the water."

As they talked, a second great wave broke in
a frill of bubbles and down went the two nearest
churches, three parks and a dozen houses.

"Regular earthquake-tidal wave effect," said
one of Uncle Hal's friends who came up to the
group just then.  "Well, we were just going to
take you into the water again anyway, so why
worry?"

"Oh, goody!" cried Mary Jane happily, "we
can build another city sometime, but we can't go
in swimming with you and Uncle Hal—not very
often we can't."

By the time the girls had had another good
swim and had enjoyed the breakers till the boys
were tired, Mrs. Merrill decided that it was
time to come in.  The sun was getting lower
and lower, and already the breeze was blowing
cooler.

"Dash up to the clubhouse quickly, girlies,"
said Mrs. Humphrey, "you know where I
showed you to go.  And then when you come
back dressed we'll find something to eat."

But the girls took longer dressing than might
have been expected—maybe they talked too
much about the good time they were having—and
when they reached the beach it was time
the party was starting back for Boston, past
time in fact, if Mrs. Humphrey was to keep an
important dinner engagement.  So there was no
time for regular tea as Mrs. Humphrey had
planned.

"But we can stop and get ice cream cones and
crackerjack to eat on the way," she said.
"Don't little girls like cones and crackerjack?"

"They certainly do," laughed Alice, "at least
these little girls do."

"Then take this," said Mrs. Humphrey, handing
her a five-dollar bill, "and get all you want,
dear.  This looks like a good place."  They
were back in the car of course, and Higgins had
driven along the thoroughfare by the ocean—a
street lined with shops.

Alice looked at the money with a feeling of
dismay.  How many should she get?  One cone
apiece and one box of crackerjack or maybe
two?  And how about the change?  Five dollars
seemed like a lot of money to carry into a
crowd such as thronged the boardwalk by which
the car had stopped.

Seeing her hesitation, Mrs. Humphrey said,
"Would you rather I got it, dear?" and Alice
replied so promptly, "oh, *will* you, Mrs. Humphrey?"
that the lady had no doubt, but Alice
would enjoy herself more if she didn't have to
make the purchase.

So Mrs. Humphrey got out of the car and
hurried to the shop.  It is hardly likely that she
had made such a purchase before—certainly not
often, for when she got into the shop she scarcely
knew what to buy, or how much the girls could
eat.  Of course they would be hungry—she
bought four boxes of crackerjack and five
cones; that amount simply because that seemed
to be all she could carry, and went back to the car.

"Can you help me?" she asked as she found
herself too loaded down to step comfortably
into her car.  Mary Jane was on that side and
she reached out and took the boxes of crackerjack
while Mrs. Merrill took the cones.

"Where's Higgins's crackerjack?" asked
Mary Jane making a hasty count.

"What did you say, dear?" asked Mrs. Humphrey
who thought her ears must have deceived
her, "Higgins' what?"

"Higgins's crackerjack," repeated Mary Jane,
"you've got a cone for everybody and only four
boxes of crackerjack.  Doesn't Higgins like
crackerjack?"

"I really—why—"  Mrs. Humphrey was so
amazed that for the minute she couldn't think
of anything to say.  *Higgins* and crackerjack!

"Never mind," said Mary Jane, thinking to
comfort her hostess, "there's plenty of ice cream
and he can have half of my crackerjack—I'd
be glad to divide it."

Before either Mrs. Merrill or Mrs. Humphrey
could interfere, Mary Jane had slipped
from her chair and was hospitably passing the
cones to the dignified chauffeur.  Never did a
man look more insulted!  He, Higgins, to eat
an ice cream cone while on duty and in his best
uniform!  Perish the thought!  But a glance at
Mary Jane's kindly smile changed his answer
and instead of frowning no without a word as
he meant to, he smiled and said, "Thank you
kindly, miss, but I must give all my attention
to the wheel."

"Well, don't worry," said Mary Jane, "I'll
eat it then."  And she did.





.. vspace:: 4

.. _`A DAY IN PLYMOUTH`:

.. class:: center large bold

   A DAY IN PLYMOUTH

.. vspace:: 2

When Mary Jane stepped off the train
in the little town of Plymouth the
next morning, she expected to see the famous
Plymouth Rock the very first thing.  Instead,
she saw a modern station with its line of autos,
surreys and wagons drawn up along the side
and a parkway stretching away toward the hill.

"Where do they keep the rock?" she asked
her mother.

"Goodness only knows!" laughed Mrs. Merrill.
"Don't expect me to know *everything*,
honey.  But I do know they have it around here
somewhere."

"Oh, Mother," cried Alice, "look at that
darling pony!  Couldn't we get that man to
drive us around some place?  I'd adore to have
that pony pull me!"

Mrs. Merrill and Mary Jane liked the idea
too, so they engaged the driver of a quaint little
pony cart to take them around the village.

But before five minutes had passed, they
almost repented of their bargain.  For, turning
away from the station to the right, they began
ascending a hill that taxed the strength of the
pony to the utmost.  Up they went and up and
up, and the little pony pulled and pulled and
pulled his best, but with such a load he couldn't
go faster than a very, very slow walk.

At last they reached the top of the hill and
there on an open plain they saw a handsome
monument—the driver told them it was
Forefathers' Monument.

"Whatever did they put it here for?" asked
Mary Jane.  "There's nothing here but a field."

"You should get out and look," said the
driver proudly.  "Just look—and you'll see."

They left the pony cart (they were glad to
give the little fellow a chance to rest you may
be sure) and walked close up to the monument
before they turned around to look; and then
they saw why the monument was set just there.
Before them lay the bay, the blue waters
sparkling in the bright sunshine; and to the left
and to the right for miles and miles they could
see the coast line gleaming gold with the
shining sand, and back from the ocean to the north
were the green marshes and fertile fields.  It
was a view long to be remembered.

"I expect the Pilgrims stood right
here—didn't they, Mother?" asked Alice.

"Without a doubt they did," replied Mrs. Merrill,
"and think how it must have looked to
them!  There were no fields then; only marshes
and woods; no friendly city off in the distance;
only strange Indians.  I can imagine that many
a time a lonely Pilgrim must have sat in this
very spot and looked longingly out over the
ocean toward the home they had left."

"They *were* brave folks, weren't they,
Mother?" said Mary Jane, much impressed with
the beautiful view and the thought of the
long-ago Pilgrims.  "But where's Plymouth Rock?"

"We'll have to find that rock for you in a
hurry," laughed Mrs. Merrill.  "Well, at least
we know it isn't on a hill, so we can go on from
here if you are ready."

The pony cart next pulled them down the hill
and that was nearly as exciting as going up, for
it surely seemed as though the cart with its four
folks would fall over on top of the little pony.

"I really believe," suggested Mrs. Merrill,
"that we could get around faster if we'd walk,
girlies," as they turned back into the station
parkway.  "Suppose we walk for a way and
explore as we go?"  The girls were willing, so
the pony cart was dismissed, and the Merrills set
out to explore.

They went south along the main street of the
village, passed the museum where relics of the
Pilgrims were kept and which they meant to
visit later in the day; passed several big hotels
and many stores till they came to the end of
the village where the fishermen had headquarters.
And there, at the shore end of a small
wharf, they saw a stone monument.  Not a big
handsome one such as they had seen on the hill
a few minutes before; a small stone monument
with an open space in the center and an iron
grating sort of a door shutting up the open
space.

Alice and Mary Jane ran ahead to see what
it was, and there Alice read the words,
"Plymouth Rock."  There under the monument,
set in the arch made by the stone corners
and protected from injury by the heavy iron
grating, was the famous stone.  It wasn't big as
Mary Jane had expected it to be—it was just
a common-looking boulder, and nobody would
have thought of it twice if it hadn't been in a
monument so folks would know it was something
to look at.

"Well," said Mary Jane practically, after she
had looked at it carefully for a minute or two,
"I don't see how in the world they stepped clear
from the ocean there at the end of the pier to
here—I don't see!"

"But you must remember, dear," replied
Mrs. Merrill, "there wasn't any pier then—just
the ocean and the shore.  No doubt the ocean
was close to the rock then, for sometimes sand
and rocks are washed around and the shore line
changed in so many years as have passed since
that day.  Or, possibly, folks have moved the
rock up here so it wouldn't get weatherbeaten
by the winter's storms.  I think that is most
likely the reason why it is here."

As she was speaking, two men came up to the
monument to make some repairs on the lock of
one of the iron gates.  As the gate swung open
after they unlocked it, Mary Jane looked longingly
in at the rock—if she could only touch it!
What fun it would be to tell Betty and Frances
that she, Mary Jane Merrill, had really touched
Plymouth Rock!

One of the workmen seemed to guess what she
wanted for he said to her, "Hello there, little
girl!  Did you come a long way to look at that
rock?"

"All the way from Chicago," answered Mary Jane.

"Then I think you'd like to touch it, wouldn't
you?" he said.  Mary Jane nodded happily.

"Here goes then," he replied, and he stepped
aside so she and Alice could stand inside the
gate and actually lay their hands on the rock.

"I know something better than that," said the
other workmen, much pleased with the girls'
interest and joy.  "We'll open the gate on the
other side where the sun is shining and your
mother can take your picture standing on the
rock, just as the Pilgrims did."

Mary Jane was so excited by that fine idea
that she could hardly stand still, but with the
help of mother and the men the gates were at
last open, and she and Alice took their places
on the rock—and the picture was taken.

"Thank you so *very* much," said Alice gratefully
as the gates were again locked up, "that
picture will be fine to take to school 'cause I'm
studying American history."

"Then you want to notice that hill," said one
workman, pointing to a hill close by.  It wasn't
such a very high hill but the sides were steep
and grass covered and it was close to the shore.
"That is the hill you will read about," continued
the man.  "After that hard winter when so
many of the Pilgrims died, the bodies of the
dead were buried there and the Pilgrims planted
corn over the top, so the Indians would not guess
it was a cemetery and find out how very many
had died.  You must walk up that hill," he
advised Alice, "so you can tell your class about
it when you get back."

"We certainly will," replied Alice gratefully,
"and thank you for telling us about it."

They crossed the street and climbed the wooden
stairway up the hill.  On the top was an inn
where a sign announced that luncheon was
served, but the girls didn't care for anything
so modern.  Fortunately Mrs. Merrill had had
the hotel put up a fine luncheon for them, so they
wouldn't have to waste time eating indoors.
As it was now nearly noon and the girls were
very hungry, she suggested that they sit on some
benches halfway up the hill and eat now, where
they could enjoy seeing Plymouth, the ocean
and the historic hill.

That seemed a splendid idea, and the girls
agreed that never had fried chicken and
sandwiches tasted as good as on Plymouth Hill.

"I do feel awfully selfish though," Mary Jane
said as she polished off a drumstick, "to have
such a good lunch at the very same place where
folks died 'cause they didn't have enough to eat."

"I don't feel so selfish as I do thirsty," said
Alice.  "Now if I only had a drink—"

"No doubt we can find one," replied Mrs. Merrill.
"If you've eaten all you wish, we can
put the papers and scraps in that trash basket
over there and walk on.  Surely we'll find a
drink soon."

They walked along the street, passing many
an old curiosity shop where Alice would have
loved to linger and price old candlesticks and
bellows and chairs and all the curious wares
she could see through the window; only she was
so thirsty that a drink seemed more interesting
than curiosities just then.

Turning to the left they went up a steep grade
to another street and there, right in plain sight,
was a beautiful drinking fountain.  Without
stopping to read the inscription she and Mary
Jane had a good drink.  Then Alice read aloud
the tablet that said this water was piped up the
hill from the very spring where the Pilgrim
fathers first got their water.

"I think we're doing a lot of interesting things
to-day," said Mary Jane happily.  "We stood
on Plymouth Rock and we ate lunch where the
Pilgrims didn't have anything to eat, and now
we're drinking out of their own spring!  Now
what do we do next?"

"I think we'd better walk up these steps to
the old cemetery," said Mrs. Merrill.

Mary Jane thought it was awfully funny to
walk up stairs on a street, but it was the only
way to get up so steep a hill.  Mrs. Merrill and
Alice were much interested in the quaint, old
inscriptions on the queer, flat tombstones, but
Mary Jane was much more thrilled by the sight
of the old funeral carriage which she saw in an
old barn as they came down from the other
entrance.  It didn't seem possible that real folks
had ever made such a funny, fancy carriage—it
seemed more as though it was "made up" for
a show!

The afternoon was flying along and they had
to hurry if there was to be time to stop and see
the wonders of the historic museum they had
passed before.  And, indeed, that was the
hardest place of all to leave, for there the girls
saw old spinning-wheels and looms, old-fashioned
chairs, dishes and toys such as little
folks used to play with—though goodness
knows, children in those old days had very few
toys of even home-made sorts!—and boats,
models of real boats of those early days and
oh, so many things, Mary Jane thought they
would have to stay there a week to see all she
wanted to see.

But they wouldn't stay a week, nor even an
hour more, for at four they must take a train to
Marshfield Hills where they were to visit
Cousin Louise.  If Mary Jane hadn't wanted to
visit there very much she might have suggested
to wait till another train; but she had so often
heard her mother tell about this dear cousin and
her little boy, that not even the curious boats and
wonders of the museum could make her want to
miss that train.

"Now you tell us all about 'em," she said to
her mother, when, a little after four, they were
seated in the train and speeding toward Marshfield
Hills.  "Is he big as me or is he a baby?
And how do I talk to him?"

"Oh, you must play with him very nicely,"
said Mrs. Merrill, "for he's only a little bit of
a boy—oh, lots younger than you are."

But when Mary Jane stepped off the train at
Marshfield Hills she certainly was surprised,
for the little fellow who sat in the front seat of
the waiting auto didn't look as though he needed
taking care of a bit!





.. vspace:: 4

.. _`VISITING COUSIN LOUISE`:

.. class:: center large bold

   VISITING COUSIN LOUISE

.. vspace:: 2

Cousin Louise was close to the train
as it stopped, and she helped Mary Jane
off and gave her a good welcoming hug as they
hurried over to the auto.

"And this is John, my boy," she said proudly.
"John, this is your cousin Mary Jane and this is
Alice."

"You may sit up here with Dad and me," he
said to Mary Jane, "and the others can sit in
the back."  Mary Jane saw in a minute that she
was going to like John.  He might be young
but he wasn't a baby; it was plain that he
expected to look after all the lady folks of the
party just as he plainly was used to looking
after his dainty little mother.

Mary Jane dutifully climbed into the front
seat, with a little help from Cousin Louise, and
then John played host by explaining to her all
about their automobile.  Mary Jane didn't know
one thing about an automobile and she was
much impressed by the fact that this little
cousin whom she had expected to take care of
and mother around, knew so very much more
than she did.  Bui she liked it; she liked his
sturdy, frank way and she wished that they
could stay longer and get acquainted, really
acquainted, with so desirable a cousin.

Shortly, John's father who had been doing
an errand, came back, and after greeting the
travelers, started up the car and away they
dashed, over the hills and bridges to the little
white farmhouse by the mill where John lived.

Mary Jane loved the house from the minute
she saw it.  It had green blinds and a long front
porch; a flower-covered front yard, an interesting
looking barn at the side and a rambling
kitchen at the back.

"Oh, Mother," she cried as the car turned in,
"do let's stay a long time!  Let's not go to-night."

"To-night!" exclaimed Cousin Louise, "surely
you didn't think of going to-night?"

"That's what I had planned," said Mrs. Merrill.
"You know there is a nine o'clock
train to Boston, and I thought that would give
us time for a nice visit-y dinner and we have so
many plans for to-morrow."

"Then you'll just have to change your plans,"
said Cousin Louise briskly as she welcomed
them into the comfortable old house.  "We've
lots of room and we'll loan you night things, and
you can see what good times my sonny and your
girls are going to have."

"Well, then—" said Mrs. Merrill.

"She's going to let you stay," said John.
"Come on, let's go see my lamb."

He was a bit shy with his new grown-up
cousin, Mrs. Merrill, but very comfortable and
easy with the two girls.

"Coming along, Dad?" he called to his father
as the three children slammed out of the kitchen
door.

"Not for a while—got to see what's the
matter with this," answered his father, who was
tinkering with the automobile.  "You take the
girls through the barn and show them your pets.
I'll join you in the pasture lot after a bit."

John needed no urging.  He ran ahead to
open the barn door and let his cousins in on the
lower floor where his pet calf—a tiny little
brown creature who looked wonderingly at her
visitors—stood by her mother in a large roomy
stall.

"This barn's most like grandpa's," exclaimed
Mary Jane, as the sight and smell of barn things
brought back to her mind the joys of the
summer she spent visiting her grandparents in the
country.  "He had an underpart, too, where
cows lived sometimes.  And a stairs—have you
a stairs that's most like a ladder?"

John had stairs just such as Mary Jane
expected and, to tell the truth, he was a bit
surprised to find that Mary Jane could run up the
steep stairs as fast and as fearlessly as he could.
He couldn't see how a girl who knew nothing
about automobiles (when he was so used to
them!) could know about anything at all.

On the main floor of the barn the children
inspected all the nooks and corners, John
explaining and playing host manfully.

"Now let's go to the pasture lot," he
suggested.  "I want to show you sumping there."

So out to the pasture lot they went, running
gayly along the narrow roadway past the
garden.

John led them up the hill, over stones and
through briars and he wouldn't stop for anything
till the very top by the fence was reached.
Once there he looked around as though hunting
for something.

"Why—where—?" he said in a puzzled way.

In the meantime Mary Jane stepped up close
to the rocky wall bordering the pasture to pick
some wild flowers she saw in bloom there.  And
as she reached into the bushes to pick the
flowers, her hand brushed against something
furred—and soft—and warm.

"Oh!" she cried drawing her hand back in a
jiffy, "it's alive!"

John pushed into the bushes and there
discovered what he was looking for—his best pet
of all, his wee lamb.  He caught firm hold of
the soft wool at the back of the lamb's neck and
pulling hard dragged the shy little creature out
for inspection.

"Oh, I didn't know it was a lamb!" exclaimed
Mary Jane happily.  "I'm not afraid of a lamb,
I'm not.  I had a pet lamb too at grandpa's
farm."

John and Mary Jane sat down on the nearest
rock and fell to comparing notes about the
lamb she had had and the lamb before them,
and so busy were they that they failed to notice
the approach of John's father with a wheelbarrow.

"Anybody want a ride?" he asked.  "And
Alice, if any big girl like you says she wants
one, she's going to be fooled.  But if any people
the size of John and Mary Jane want one they'd
better get in quick, because mother has just given
the signal for dinner and that means come and
wash your hands this minute."

John settled himself in the front of the barrow
with his toes hanging over the wheel while
his father lifted Mary Jane on just behind.  And
with Alice for an escort the party went back to
the house.

"I love to wash hands at a back door," said
Mary Jane enviously as she saw John's father
splashing at a pan near the door.  "It's so
common to wash in a bathroom!"

"Well," laughed Cousin Louise, "I can't say
that everybody agrees with you!  I know I felt
very grand when we had our nice bathroom
installed upstairs.  But if you'd really *rather*
wash down here, I think John can find you a
pan and a towel."  Alice went upstairs with
her mother and washed in a nice, lady-like
fashion, but John and Mary Jane had a beautiful
splash-y time at the back doorstep and to
judge from their red noses—and the towel—they
must have come to the table every bit as
clean.

"I could eat just everything," said Mary Jane
ravenously, as they sat down to an
appetizing-looking dinner.

"Well, you won't get everythin'," giggled
John, "but Mother won't let you be hungry,
will you, Mother?" he added hospitably.

And with all the good things before her,
Mary Jane was sure she *wouldn't* be hungry—lovely
fresh peas, browned potatoes, salad in
such a pretty bowl.  For the next few minutes
the children were too busy to talk, but by
dessert time, John was again telling the girls
some of the funny things his chickens and lamb
could do.

"There now, John," said his mother interrupting,
"I forgot the cream for the berries.
Can you get it for me from the kitchen table?
It's in the blue bowl."

John thought he could and he slipped down
from his chair and hurried out to the kitchen.
Coming back he didn't hurry for in his hands,
held tightly, he carried a large blue bowl filled
nearly full with rich looking cream.

"We always have our cream in a pitcher,"
remarked Mary Jane.

"You couldn't pour this cream out of a
pitcher," explained Cousin Louise.  "See?"
She lifted a spoonful of the cream with a silver
ladle and Mary Jane thought she had never
seen anything so good looking.  It was rich and
creamy colored and almost as thick as soft
gelatine.  Alice was a bit worried lest it be sour,
and she hated milk or cream that wasn't every
bit sweet.  But when the girls tasted it they
found it sweet as could be and oh, so good.

"There are the queerest things around Boston,"
exclaimed Mary Jane as she smeared the
thick cream over her berries ready to eat, "there
are boats made like swans, and tides like in
Florida, and a spring coming out of a pipe—that
was in Plymouth—and cream that looks
like pudding.  Have you got plenty of it, Cousin
Louise?" she added as she eyed the blue bowl.

Cousin Louise assured her that there was still
plenty in the bowl and a great plenty more in
the milk cellar outside so she could eat all she
wanted.  But to tell the truth, Mary Jane found
that one big bowlful of strawberries and such
cream was all she could eat, and she was soon
ready for the drive that Cousin Louise proposed.

They drove through the marshes that much
to the girls' interest proved to be the place where
cranberries are grown.

"See?" said John's father as he slowed up the
car so they could see the bushes and could,
perhaps, imagine the red cranberries with which
the low bushes would be loaded after frost.
"Next time you eat your Thanksgiving dinner,
you just look hard at the cranberry sauce and see
if it didn't come from Marshfield."

Mary Jane giggled at his funmaking and
promised to ask each cranberry she met during
the coming fall.

Turning from the main road, they drove into
the heart of a charming wood where Cousin
Louise had them get out to see the wild flowers.
There the girls saw, for the first time, the
beautiful and very rare wild lady slipper which
Alice thought was the loveliest wild flower she
had ever seen.  They didn't pick a single
blossom as the flower is so rare that flower lovers
will not take a single bloom from its home in
the woods; but they looked at it so admiringly
and so carefully that the girls were sure they
never, never would forget its beauty.

Back into the car and around a couple of low
hills they saw before them—the ocean—golden
and blue and rosy as the varying lights of sunset
were reflected in it.

"Oh," cried Mary Jane, "are we going swimming?"

"Not this late in the evening, I'm afraid, my
dear," said Cousin Louise.  "But perhaps
mother will let you go in wading.  We always
carry towels in the back of the car for a good
foot rub afterward."  Mrs. Merrill approved,
so the three children pulled off shoes and
stockings and a minute later were dashing down
toward the water leaving the grown-ups for a
quiet visit near the car.

"Oh, look at the white stones!" exclaimed
Mary Jane, as they wandered around on the
beach after the first hilarious fun of wading.
"I'm going to put some in my pocket.  There's
one.  There's another.  See, John, aren't they
pretty?"

John agreed and was so diligent in helping to
pick them up and so generous in handing over
all he could find to Mary Jane, that by the time
the children were called to come and dry their
feet, Mary Jane's pockets were loaded down
and Alice's were full of the overflow.

"I think they'll charge excess baggage for
you, young lady," laughed John's father as he
lifted Mary Jane into her place by John.
"You're not going to take all those stones back
to Chicago, are you?"

"Well," began Mary Jane, and then she saw
how impossible it would be to carry so many so
she decided, "I'm going to take two, the
roundest, whitest two, and I'm going to leave
the others for John.  You'll like 'em, won't you,
John?"

John hadn't an idea what he would do with
stones but he was always glad to acquire
valuable possessions, so he answered, "You bet!"
most vigorously, and Mary Jane was happy.

Back at the house, John rushed upstairs ahead
of the girls and they couldn't imagine the reason
for his hurry—children don't usually like to go
to bed in a rush like that, at least the Merrill
girls didn't.

But when, a few minutes later, they leisurely
went up, they found the reason for his hurry.
He met them at the top of the stairs and offered
to each girl a pair of his own pajamas!  He
remembered that his mother had promised night
things and he wanted to be a good host.  The
girls looked with dismay at the cunning little
blue pajamas offered them, but their mother
came to their rescue.

"Thank you so much, John," she said to the
little boy, "you certainly were nice to plan for
the girls.  Now, don't you want to show us your
room?  You know you promised you would."  And
John, carelessly handing over the pajamas,
hurried off to display the room of which he was
so proud.

A few minutes later the tired little fellow was
sound asleep, and then Cousin Louise brought
her guests a supply of night things that made
them very comfortable.

"I wish I didn't have to go to bed," sighed
Mary Jane as she trailed the length of her
cousin's pretty gown over the floor.  "I think
it's horrid when you have a big lady's nighty and
it's so long and pretty and like a court dress
that then you just have to go to bed and sleep!"

"Well, if you don't go to bed pretty soon,"
laughed Cousin Louise, "you'll hear my alarm
clock and John's roosters before you get to
sleep."

But there was no real danger of that because
Mary Jane was so tired that the minute her head
touched the pillow she was sound asleep and
dreaming of white stones that perched up on
top of Plymouth Rock and of a dear woolly
lamb that came over in the Mayflower.





.. vspace:: 4

.. _`THE WILLOW TREE COTTAGE`:

.. class:: center large bold

   THE WILLOW TREE COTTAGE

.. vspace:: 2

Mary Jane thought she never could
wake up the next morning.  She heard
her mother and Cousin Louise talking in the
next room, she heard John calling, "Mary Jane!
Mary Jane!  When you coming to breakfast?"  But
she simply couldn't make herself wake up
and answer.  She dozed off again and again,
she was so very sleepy.

Finally she heard Cousin Louise say, "Your
mother says you must get up, dear, so if you'll
jump into the bath that is all ready for you, I'll
have breakfast waiting when you come back."  Mary
Jane heard John and Alice laughing and
playing under her window, so she hopped out
of bed in a hurry and ran in to take her bath.

When she came back, she found that Cousin
Louise had pulled a little table up to the
window overlooking the garden and barnyard, and
that on the table was spread out the nicest
breakfast any girl could ask for.

"There now," said Cousin Louise as she laid
a bathrobe around her little guest, "while you
eat we're going to visit, because when there are
so many other folks around, we don't get a
chance to say a word."  Mary Jane liked that
breakfast ever so much.  She told Cousin Louise
all about Class Day and the game and the lobster
salad and commencement and dancing with one
of Uncle Hal's grown-up friends and the shoes
that slipped up and down and made a blister—and
everything.  And as she talked she ate and
ate—till all the fresh strawberries and all the
egg and potatoes and coffee cake and milk and
cereal that Cousin Louise had carried upstairs
on the tray had vanished.

"Well," laughed Cousin Louise, "see how
stupid I sit here without getting you one single
bit of breakfast!"  And she laughed at the tray
of empty dishes.

"Never mind about any breakfast," replied
Mary Jane continuing the joke, "I don't
somehow seem hungry for anything this morning
Anything *more* you might say!"

"Then you slip into your clothes as fast as
ever you can," said Cousin Louise, "and run
out to the barn.  John's been watching his
favorite hens since he first got up in hopes there
would be eggs for you to gather before train time."

It didn't take Mary Jane long to dress and as
Mrs. Merrill came in just at the right time to
brush her hair and put on her hair bow, she
was soon out in the barn lot with Alice and John.

With diligent hunting the three children
discovered four eggs by the time that John's father
called to them that it was time to go to the
train.

"You take 'em with you in your pocket," said
John hospitably giving his little cousin all four
eggs.  "You take 'em 'cause they're good and
I'll let you have 'em."

Mary Jane took them gratefully.  She had
never been particularly fond of eggs but John's
eggs, like grandpa's eggs, tasted awfully good
and she was quite willing to carry four home.
She promised faithfully to carry them all the
way to Chicago so her father could taste one.
"That'll make one for each of us, 'cause there's
four of us," she told John as she put the fourth
one in her second pocket.

But when the children got back to the house
Mrs. Merrill inquired into the cause of the
bulging pockets and out came the eggs—to stay
in Marshfield.

"Why Mary Jane," said her mother, "you've
stones, all those white stones you gathered on
the beach last night, you know, and stones and
eggs don't mix very well, you'd find.  Then
we're going 'way up to Rye Beach for Sunday,
and you'll have lots to carry as it is.  And
there's no use taking the eggs away from John
just to run the risk of breaking them, is there?"

Mary Jane agreed that there was no use of
that.  And with John's promise that next time
she came she could have four eggs—not
necessarily these same eggs however—for her very
own, she was satisfied to put the eggs in the
ice-box and wash her hands ready to go to the
train.

The little cousins hated to leave each other;
they were just getting well acquainted and were
planning all sorts of fun they could do together.
But Mrs. Merrill thought that Mary Jane, and
Alice too, had had such a very busy week that
they had better have a very quiet week-end.  So
as Uncle Hal had friends outside of Boston he
wanted to see before leaving for his home in
the middle west, it was decided that Mrs. Merrill
and the girls go up to a quiet little hotel
at Rye Beach and spend Sunday resting and
loafing, and that they meet in Boston again on
Monday to finish up the sightseeing and visiting.

"You come and see me again," shouted John,
as the girls climbed aboard their train half an
hour later.  "Don't you forget to come to see me
and get your eggs!"

"I won't forget," called back Mary Jane, and
then, much to the surprise of the brakeman who
was giving the signal to go ahead, she stepped
half down the steps of her car and shouted back
to John, "Next time I come I'm going to stay
all day and get a lot of eggs—all the eggs you've
got!"  Then she hurried into the car to wave to
John out of the window as the train moved away.

It was a very dusty morning, as there hadn't
been rain for more than two weeks; so
Mrs. Merrill shut the window by which they sat.
Mary Jane liked that, for then she had a
window sill where she could spread out her
precious stones without danger of losing any
out of the window.

"Now that's the father stone," she whispered
to herself, as she hunted out the biggest stone
and put it in the left hand corner of the sill,
"and that's the mother stone," she added as she
chose the next biggest, a round white stone that
was her favorite, "and this is the big sister stone
and this the big brother stone and here's all the
little stones."  She pulled them out of her pocket,
every one and made a long row of stone children
that filled the whole window sill.

"I guess I'll call them Mr. and Mrs. Stone,"
she laughed softly to herself, and then I'll name
the Stone children.  "You're Patricia," she
announced to the biggest stone sister, "and you're
William Stone and you're Edward and you're
Margaret and you're Ellen and you're—you're—dear
me!  How in the world do people name
their families?  I should think it would be hard
work!  I should think it would be as hard as
naming rivers."

The thought of rivers made Mary Jane remember
that she was thirsty, so, with her mother's
permission, she went up to the front end of
the car where the case of paper drinking cups
and the water fountain was.  The drinking cup
case didn't work very well, and Alice had to
come and give her assistance before two cups
were dropped out of the slot so that the little
girls could get a cool drink.  Then Boston was so
near that Mary Jane had time only to pick up
her Stone family and stow them safely in her
pocket—and it was time to get off.  There
hadn't been a minute to wonder what she would
do—the time just went that quickly.

They took a taxi up to their hotel, packed
bags with things they would need for over
Sunday, ate a bit of lunch and hurried back to the
station to catch the train for Rye Beach.

"Did you ever see so many pretty flowers!"
exclaimed Alice as their train went past station
after station made beautiful with flowers—late
irises, early roses, bridal wreath and snowballs,
to say nothing of the gay geraniums in
formal beds along by the tracks.  "Wouldn't you
love to have somebody say, 'just pick all you
want to, Alice Merrill?'"

"We wouldn't have time to pick 'em, 'cause
the train doesn't stop; it's taking us to Rye Beach
where Mother went a long time ago.  Tell us
about it, Mother dear," Mary Jane added.  So
Mrs. Merrill snuggled the tired little girl close
up and told her about the time she and her
brothers went to Rye Beach so long ago and how they
all went in bathing in the surf when the whistle
blew the temperature of the water; and what
good things they had to eat at the Willow Tree
Cottage and how—but there wasn't any use
talking any more, for Mary Jane was fast asleep.

Mrs. Merrill glanced over at Alice who was
reading a favorite book Cousin Louise had
given her, then she too picked up a magazine
and read as the train sped northward toward
New Hampshire.

It was a good thing Mary Jane had a long
nap that afternoon, for when they got off at their
station they found they were still a long way
from Willow Tree Cottage and that there was a
lot to see on the way.  Several passengers got off,
and the bus which met the train was filled to
the last seat.

First they drove along by some pretty golf
links where many folks were enjoying an
afternoon game; then they turned into a handsome
big hotel.  Mary Jane saw children running up
and down the broad verandas and caught a
glimpse of the ocean through the trees.

"I'd like that place to live," she said to
herself, "I wonder if that's where we're
going?"  But it wasn't.

Next they drove down a street where there
were many private houses, in front of some of
which the bus stopped to drop passengers.
Mary Jane saw children playing in the grassy
yards and everything looking so homelike and
restful that she couldn't help but think, "I
wonder if that's where we're going.  I'd like to have
that our place."  But it wasn't.

Then they drove around a corner with a
flourish that almost sent Mary Jane from her
seat and out through the opposite window, and
drove up in front of a grand-looking hotel right
close to the ocean.  Folks in pretty light dresses
were walking on the broad porches.  Children
were playing in the great sand-pile out under
the trees, and young folks were having a croquet
match over near the beach.

"Now that must be where we're going,"
thought Mary Jane.  But it wasn't.

At last, when everyone but Mary Jane and
her mother and sister were out of the bus, the
driver whipped up his horses and drove away
down the beach and then turned down a short
road and stopped in front of a rambling, old
New England farmhouse.  It was painted white,
with green shutters; the porch had comfortable
chairs enough for a big, big family and rambled
around the front and sides of the house as though
it was in search of the kitchen door.  But out in
front, close by where the bus stopped, was the
most interesting sight of all—a great willow
tree.  It had half a dozen trunks all grown
partly together and each big enough to make a
tree of itself; it had wide spreading branches
that arched over the roadway, over the house
and over a wide, grassy yard.  And under the
tree, just past the porch steps was a swing, a big
sand pile and a small merry-go-round and a
slide place so that little folks who slid down it
would tumble gently into the clean white sand.

Was Mary Jane glad that they hadn't stopped
at the other places?  You should have seen her
happy face!

"Oh, Mother," she cried, "let's not just stay
here over Sunday!  Let's send for Daddah and
stay and stay and stay 'cause I know I'm going
to have a good time here."

But before Mrs. Merrill had time to answer,
Mrs. Bryan, the hospitable lady who owned the
cottage, came out to greet them and to say to
Mary Jane, "Oh, my dear!  I'm so glad you're
here!  Because I have the nicest surprise for
you!  Come right into the house and see.  I
know you'll like it because it's just what your
mother and your Uncle Hal always liked to see."

And Mary Jane, followed by Alice, both
wondering what in the world the surprise might be,
hurried out of the bus and into the house.





.. vspace:: 4

.. _`LOST!  ONE MARY JANE`:

.. class:: center large bold

   LOST!  ONE MARY JANE

.. vspace:: 2

"Can we see it right away?" asked Mary
Jane as she hesitated by the newel post
at the front stairs.  (It was a lovely long,
straight stairway with a white banister made of
dainty white spindles and a mahogany railing
wide and shining on top—just exactly the right
sort of a banister for sliding down, and Mary
Jane resolved to take a trial slide the first time
she could get the hallway to herself!)

"If it's what I think it is," said Mrs. Merrill,
looking laughingly at Mrs. Bryan, "you'd better
run upstairs and wash off the stains of your
journey before you go to see it, because once you
get out in the kitchen with Mrs. Bryan you
won't want to bother with washing and combing.
Is it what I think?" she added.

"Pretty likely!" laughed Mrs. Bryan, "you're
not forgetting so easily what you always liked
to see.  So do as your mother says, Mary Jane,"
she added kindly to the little girl, "and as soon
as she says you may, come out through that door
over there and you'll find me."

Alice dashed up the stairs, with Mary Jane
close at her heels, and in a very short time they
were down again with clean hands and faces
and fresh frocks and hair ribbons.  Out
through the door they went, through the dining-room
and into a great, roomy kitchen about as
different from their own little apartment
kitchen as one could imagine.  It had a big
pastry table in the middle; two huge stoves at
one side and a long sink and several tables on
another side.  Big windows looked out on a
grassy yard.

"Oh!" exclaimed Mary Jane rapturously, "I'd
just love to live at your house, Mrs. Bryan.
Would you let me beat eggs and fix the edges
of pies and wipe dishes?"

"And the cupboards!" exclaimed Alice no
less pleased, "would you look at these
cupboards, Mary Jane!  Wouldn't you just adore
getting out sugar and spice and putting dishes
away?"

"Well," replied Mrs. Bryan, half puzzled
but very much pleased with their enthusiasm,
"you're not much like most of the children who
come here.  Mostly they don't know or care
what a kitchen looks like or where it is!  I can't
think what their mothers mean either, because
a house without a kitchen is just nothing.  And
as for offering to help with dishes—"  The good
lady broke off in amazement at the unusual
occurrence of two boarders offering assistance
because they *wanted* to.

"Was this the surprise and may I look in that
cupboard?" asked Alice as she spied a stack of
pretty blue and white dishes—just the kind she
had always wanted for her own—behind a half
open cupboard door.

"Mercy no!" laughed Mrs. Bryan, "this isn't
the surprise.  But goodness knows you may
look in any cupboard you like, dearie; I know
you won't do any harm because you like things
too well.  The surprise is out here."

The girls followed her through a long pantry,
the walls of which were covered with cupboards
and shelves clear up to the high ceiling, through
a summer kitchen where maids were working
at preparations for supper, and out into a half
dim shed, the floor of which felt soft under their
feet because it was covered with thousands of
tiny chips of wood, left from the chopping of
wood for the big kitchen range.

"There," she said, pointing to two great tubs
near the outside door, "that's what your mother
and your uncles used to like to see when they
used to come here.  Have 'em every Saturday
evening—just that many," she added as she
pointed to the baskets, "and it's time they went
into the pot this very minute."

"But what *are* they?" asked Alice while
Mary Jane just stared at the queer sight.

Two heavily woven split baskets, bigger than
bushel baskets, considerably, were filled with
brownish, greenish things that seemed to move—but
of course they *couldn't*—but they *did*, they
surely *did*.  Moved slowly but crawlingly like
great spiders—

"Ugh!" shivered Mary Jane, "whatever are they?"

"You've a good catch this time, haven't you?"
Mrs. Merrill's voice behind her reassured Mary
Jane.  Her mother had followed them out and
surely if her mother didn't mind those queer
things, they must be all right for she well knew
her mother didn't like spiders any better than
she did!

"But what *are* they?" insisted Alice wonderingly.

"Don't you know," laughed Mrs. Bryan,
"they're lobsters.  Sam caught 'em just to-day
and a fine lot they are too.  Do you like
lobsters?"

"Um-m," replied Alice, "do I?  You just try
me!  But all the lobsters I ever ate were red,
bright red."

"Sure enough," laughed Mrs. Bryan as she
bustled about a great iron pot in a corner, "and
all you ever will eat will be, I hope, because
they'll be cooked.  The cooking makes 'em
red.  These are alive."

"But if they're alive you can't cook 'em!"
exclaimed Mary Jane in great excitement.

"Oh, yes we can," replied Mrs. Bryan
comfortably, "just that easily.  We have the water
boiling hot and dump 'em in—just that quick
and they never know what happens to 'em.
Now you can go out this door," she added,
"because we've got to hurry now with supper.
But don't you go far, for pretty soon you'll hear
a gong and that means 'come to supper!' and
you come first thing because I know you must
be hungry."

Mary Jane and Alice needed no urging—they
were hungry, for it had been a long time since
breakfast at Cousin Louise's, and their hurried
luncheon in Boston wasn't much to remember.

They ran out to the sand-pile, looked at the
pretty shells, took a slide or two and a few
swings in the big swing and made friends with
the two children, a boy and a girl from
Springfield, Massachusetts, who were playing there,
and, in a very short while it seemed, the gong
sounded and they went in to supper.

It was a different sort of a supper from any
Mary Jane had ever eaten away at a hotel—though
as a matter of fact the Willow Tree
Cottage wasn't really a hotel at all; it was an
old New England farmhouse enlarged a bit and
opened to some twenty-five selected boarders
through the summer season.  And this meal
truly was not a dinner such as Mary Jane was
used to eating in the evening; it was a real
supper, delicious and old fashioned as one could
hope to find.  There was coffee cake, fresh
baked and luscious with great "wells" of sugar
and butter running through in streaks of
sweetness; baked beans in brown pots; cold ham,
coldslaw with a sour cream sauce, and hot
potatoes with cream gravy.  And then, after each
table full of guests were seated and the meal
began, Mrs. Bryan herself (she would trust this
task to no one else) appeared with a great platter
of lobsters, red and shining and smelling oh,
so good!

Mary Jane helped herself very daintily but
Mrs. Bryan said, "Here, honey, that's no way to
eat at my house!  You take a big helping and
then pass up!  There's three more platterfuls
like this out on the kitchen table!"  The girls
needed no second urging; they liked lobster, but
as they polished off claw after claw, they agreed
that never *never* had they eaten lobster before—not
really truly lobster as this luscious food
proved to be.

As the maid appeared to ask what dessert they
wanted, Mrs. Merrill said, "Do you want any
dessert, girls?  You've had such a good supper
already."

"Why mother!" exclaimed Mary Jane, "we
*were hungry*!"  And then as the maid said,
"Huckleberry shortcake and apple pie" (meaning
of course that Mary Jane should take her
choice), Mary Jane, not understanding, replied
blissfully, "I like 'em both, thank you!"

"Bless her heart!" laughed Mrs. Bryan, "she
shall have 'em both, Ann.  You bring the girls
each a helping of pie and shortcake—it's not too
rich, it won't hurt 'em for once," she added as
she saw Mrs. Merrill starting to object,
"remember how you used to eat two helpings of
dessert and how *you* made your dear father so
ashamed!"  Mrs. Merrill and the good lady
laughed in recollection—and the girls had their
double dessert.

In the long twilight the Merrills took a
leisurely walk through the pine tree grove off
toward the south of the cottage and home along
the rocks by the ocean.  By the time they turned
toward home the sun had set in rosy glory and
through the gathering shadows could be seen the
gleam of lights in lighthouses near and far.
'Way down the coast on some jutting rocks, still
farther down on an out-reaching promontory,
straight off to the northeast on the Isle of Shoals
and away toward the north was the Portsmouth
Light.  Some lights burned steadily, red or
white; some flashed on and off as though
making a signal.  Mrs. Merrill explained that each
different location had its own light and method
of burning it, so that a pilot, out in the ocean
when he saw a light burning red, white, red
white, could look on the chart and see just where
that light belonged; and then, when he saw one
burning white, white, red, he could look again
and see where that one was.

The girls loved to watch the lights and to
listen to the pound of the waves on the rocks
near by.  They would have liked to stay and
watch a long time, but Mrs. Merrill led them
back toward the cottage by dark and, to tell the
truth, beds didn't feel so very bad after such a
big day and, soon after the stars peeped out, two
tired travelers were sound asleep.

Sunday morning the girls slept late and
almost missed breakfast; then after a short walk
to the beach they slipped on fresh frocks and
went with Mrs. Merrill to a quaint little church
about a mile away.  The walk there was charming,
past the biggest hotel they had seen the
night before, along the beach, through a wood
and to the edge of a meadow where the little
church, all vine-covered and rose-laden, came
to view.

After dinner at noon, the girls sat on the
beach a long time, watching the tide and talking
over the good times they had had and were
going to have.  They persuaded their mother
that because the water was too cold for bathing
that day, they ought to stay over till afternoon
of Monday so that they might have a chance to
bathe in the ocean.

"We'll do better than that," decided Mrs. Merrill,
when she saw how the girls were enjoying
the sea air and the quiet, "I'll wire Hal
and we'll stay till afternoon Tuesday.  That will
give him time to finish his visit leisurely and we
will still have all of Wednesday in Boston and
you may go in bathing twice—if the water isn't
too terribly cold."

"I'm a-going in to-morrow even if it's freezing!"
said Mary Jane.

"So'm I," agreed Alice, "we're not afraid of
cold and it's such fun to jump in those big
waves!"  But they little guessed what was really
going to happen when they went in bathing in
that heavy surf!

The next morning, promptly at eleven, the
whistle on the bathhouse blew 5-8.

"Fifty-eight," said Mrs. Merrill thoughtfully,
"that's pretty cold, girlies."

"Oh, we don't mind," Alice assured her.
"The sun's good and hot and if the water seems
cold we don't need to stay in long—we can come
out and sit in the hot sand."

So they took their suits and walked down to
the bathhouse.

The tide was high that morning and the beach
was narrow because the great waves washed up,
higher and higher.  Heavy posts driven into the
bed of the ocean supported great ropes stretched
where folks would want to stand in the waves,
and if one watched and went out between waves
and then held tightly to the rope while a wave
broke over, there wasn't a fraction as much real
danger as there appeared to be from the noise
and foam.  Mrs. Merrill, grasping a hand of
each girl, made a quick dash for the nearest
rope and warned them to hold fast when the
big wave came.  Alice could manage herself
very well, as she had a good strong grip and
people were round about near to lend a hand
if a wave should make her lose her footing for
a second, but Mrs. Merrill held tightly to Mary
Jane and together they jumped through the
waves as the foamy crests of cold water broke
just over them.

"Burr, it *is* cold, isn't it!" said Mary Jane
gayly as she shook the salt water out of her eyes.

"Plenty cold and you're getting blue," replied
Mrs. Merrill with a keen look at her little girl.
"Let's go up and sit in the warm sand for a
while.  Alice, you come up the line, here, nearer
to shore, and then as soon as I get Mary Jane
settled in the sand snug and warm, I'll come
back and take you out farther."

Left by herself a few minutes later, Mary
Jane dug herself into the sand and buried her
feet, her legs, and tossed the sand over her chest.
Then, tiring of that amusement, she shook herself
free of the sand, stood up and looked around
and—but—after that nobody seemed to know
just what Mary Jane did do.

Ten minutes after she left her so comfortably
settled with her play, Mrs. Merrill and Alice,
flushed and laughing with their fun in the
waves, ran up the beach to where Mary Jane
had been playing.  But no Mary Jane was there
to greet them!

Quickly Mrs. Merrill looked over the many
bathers along the edge of the waves—there was
no little girl with bobbed brown hair.
Hurriedly she ran and questioned the life-guard;
no, he hadn't seen any little girl in a blue and
white suit.

The word passed along from one person to
another but not a soul could tell where the little
girl was.  Several had seen her playing and
watching her mother and sister but no one had
seen her get up and go away.

There was lost, one Mary Jane; and a distracted
mother and sister together with a beach
full of interested people started on a hunt for
the missing child.





.. vspace:: 4

.. _`TEA ON THE TERRACE`:

.. class:: center large bold

   TEA ON THE TERRACE

.. vspace:: 2

Questions and answers flew thick and
fast as, one after another, the many
bathers at Rye Beach learned that a little girl
was lost.

"Are you sure she didn't follow you and go
into the water?" asked one.

"Awful undertow," whispered another, "if
she lost her footing even near the shore—" but
Mrs. Merrill turned away so as not to hear any
more.

"Maybe she went up the beach a way," suggested another.

"We looked up there first thing," was the
reply.

"I don't know what to think," cried Mrs. Merrill
in distraction as the police officer questioned
her.  "Mary Jane never ran away and I
feel sure she wouldn't now.  I don't think she
would disobey me and go into the water—and
yet, where is she?"

Alice, poor child, forgot about being wet, and
ran up and down the beach, hunting and calling
her sister.

At last, when there seemed nothing else to do,
the officer said, "I am sorry to say, madam, that
it looks very much as though—" but he never
finished his sentence.  For at that minute Mary
Jane's voice close by her mother said, "Look,
Mother, what I got for you!  And there are a
lot more too so Alice can pick some."

There stood Mary Jane, rosy and dry from
the warm sun, her hand full of wild flowers
she had picked—somewhere.

Mrs. Merrill gathered her up in her arms and
hugged her so tight Mary Jane thought she
never would get her breath again, then, when
she could talk, she asked, "My dear child!
Where *were* you?  We've hunted and hunted!"

.. _`"My dear child!  Where were you? We've hunted and hunted!"`:

.. figure:: images/img-185.jpg
   :figclass: white-space-pre-line
   :align: center
   :alt: "My dear child!  Where were you? We've hunted and hunted!"

   "My dear child!  Where were you? We've hunted and hunted!"

"Why I was right there," answered Mary
Jane, much surprised that they should have been
anxious.  "I stood up to shake off the sand and
I saw some wild flowers back there—see 'em?"
she added, pointing to the end of the bath-houses
where some sand flowers bloomed on a
low lying sand hill back of the beach.  "And I
thought, 'now I'll just get some of those and see
if Alice wants 'em for her collection.'  So I ran
up there and there were so *many*—see how many
kinds?  And—that's all!  I just picked 'em and
then here I am!"

Mrs. Merrill thanked all the kind people who
had helped hunt for Mary Jane and made a firm
resolve (which she likely as not wouldn't keep)
that next time Mary Jane was "lost" she would
sit still and wait for the child to come back by
herself.

For an hour Mary Jane played on the sand.
They dug ditches, they "buried" each other and
their mother, and finally they shook off the sand
and ran to the beach for a final plunge before
leaving.  After they were dressed, Mary Jane
led them up to the sand hill where she had
found the flowers, and Alice picked a bloom or
two of each kind to press and add to her collection.

Dinner never did taste so good as it did that
day—surf bathing certainly makes girls hungry
and they both enjoyed every bite of the good
food Mrs. Bryan set before them.

"Now I think we'll all take a rest for an
hour," suggested Mrs. Merrill, "and then, with
some folks I met before you girlies woke up this
morning, we'll drive to Portsmouth so you can
see the harbor and the beautiful drive along
the shore."

Promptly at three o'clock they set out, and
Mary Jane thought it would take a whole book
to tell all the beautiful and wonderful things
they saw on that drive.  The pine woods that
smelled so sweet and good, the rolling golf
links here and there, the glimpses of the Isle of
Shoals that seemed no distance away, so clear
was the air in the afternoon sunshine.

"I 'most could reach out and touch 'em!"
exclaimed Mary Jane once, and it was hard to
believe that the picturesque group of islands
were miles away, out in the ocean.

The river at Portsmouth, dotted with boats,
big and little, the view across into the state of
Maine, and the beautiful grounds of a great
hotel set high on the bluff overlooking the ocean,
all seemed very wonderful.  Everywhere were
lovely gardens brilliant with bloom and grass
so green and fresh, Mary Jane declared it made
her want to get out and feel it, for it looked like
soft velvet.

At Portsmouth they stopped at an old
curiosity shop and bought an old-fashioned
"knocker" for a souvenir of the drive.

"We'll put it on the door to your room," said
Mrs. Merrill, "and then, when you shut the
door, folks can knock before they come in.  And
every time you look at it, you will think of your
trip to Rye Beach and to Portsmouth."

The next morning the Merrills took their
ocean dip early, as they had decided to get to
Boston in the afternoon instead of evening.
The water was "freezing" cold, but the sun was
good and warm and the dip was most refreshing
as well as lots of fun.

It wasn't easy to leave Rye Beach.  There
was so much to do that would be fun, and so
many nice people to meet and such good things
to eat, that Mary Jane had to think hard about
her father off home alone to make herself
willing to leave so soon.  But once away, she was
quite happy, especially when she found that
they could have their luncheon in a diner—Mary
Jane would go anywhere—almost—to eat
on a train!

Uncle Hal met them at the station in Boston
and his smiling face assured them a surprise
was in store.

"Too tired riding to do a little more?" he
asked, as they walked out of the great station.

"Well," asked Mary Jane determined not to
be tricked into anything, "is it a nice thing we
would do, if we weren't too tired to do it?"

"*Very* nice, I'd say, my young lady," replied
Uncle Hal.

"Then I'm not a bit tired," Mary Jane assured him.

It was a good thing that was her answer, for
the surprise was ready and waiting at the station door.

"This is my sister and her two daughters, Miss
Burn," said Hal as he stepped up to a waiting
car, "and they say they will enjoy the ride you
so kindly planned for them."  Miss Burn was
a charming young lady with whom Mary Jane
and Alice promptly made friends, and her car
was a beautiful big touring car in which the
Merrills were whisked away before they quite
realized what had happened to them.

Through the parks of Boston they went, out
the boulevards along the north shore where the
roadway borders the ocean for miles and miles.
Beautiful homes flashed passed them, parks,
suburbs, playgrounds, amusement places—all
like a wonderful living moving picture show.
Mary Jane was interested in the great shoe
factories they passed in Lynn and she tried to peek
into the windows and see which factory made
shoes for little girls her age.  Rows and rows
of red brick buildings—all shoe factories Uncle
Hal told her—seemed enough to make shoes for
everybody in the whole country!

On they went till they could see the houses on
Marblehead and the famous Marblehead lighthouse
that can be seen from such a distance at
night, then, back they went, mostly over a
different route, toward Boston.

"Couldn't you stop at our house for a cup of
tea?" invited Miss Burn, "mother would love to
meet you but she didn't feel up to a ride to-day."

Mrs. Merrill said they had nothing to hurry
them, so Miss Burn drove them to her pretty
home on one of the tree-covered streets in Winchester.

"We'll go through the house," said Miss Burn
as they left the car, "but I want you two girls
to go to the garden.  You'll like to see my pet
goldfishes."

"Pet goldfishes!" exclaimed Mary Jane, "do
you keep 'em in a bowl?"

"Wait a minute, and I'll show you where I
keep them," replied Miss Burn, and she led
them through the hallway of her beautiful
home and out, through French doors, into the
loveliest garden the girls had ever seen.  It was
in the middle of the house—almost—for the
house went around three sides.  French doors
opened from the hallway, on the north, from the
dining-room on the east, and from a long, low
library living-room on the west, while on the
south side a rose covered pergola connected the
ends of the house making the garden appear to
be surrounded with the house.  The edge of the
garden, near the house, was filled with bay trees,
privet and vining roses, next, on a lower terrace,
were flowers with brilliant bloom, hollyhocks,
delphiniums and marigolds, while around the
fountain in the center was a great bed of
gorgeous roses making a mass of fragrant bloom.

"Oh!" cried Alice, "think of living here!"

"It's like a palace!" echoed Mary Jane.

"I thought you'd like it," said Miss Burn,
much pleased with their frank enjoyment, "we
love it.  I do a lot of the work in the garden
myself.  I love the flowers so, and mother and
I would rather be out here than anywhere else
in the world."

She led them over dainty gravel paths to the
center of the garden where, peering into the
white fountain, the girls saw dozens of goldfish
swimming about in the sunshine.

"See?" said Miss Burn, pointing into the
water, "I have one silver fish—that's for luck
they say," she added laughingly.  "Don't you
think it's better to have fish here than in a bowl
on a table?"

"I think everything's better here—if you have
a 'here' like this," agreed Alice.  "I suppose
Mary Jane feels like a princess again, now.
She always feels that way when she sees
something wonderful."

"'Deed I do," admitted Mary Jane who had
been too busy looking around and pretending
that all this was her own private palace, to talk
with mere folks!  "I love it here!"

"Let's go over and meet mother," suggested
Miss Burn, "and see if tea is ready.  Then you
may walk around the garden all you like and
pick as many flowers as you want to."

They found Mrs. Burn waiting for them
under the rose-covered terrace, and tea was all
ready but the hot water which came in a few
minutes.  Mary Jane was very glad that the
grown folks were too busy talking to count the
number of lobster salad sandwiches she ate—they
were so good—even better than the nut
sandwiches which were usually her favorites.
After tea, the girls wandered up and down the
little paths in the garden and picked a few
flowers; not many, for the flowers looked so
lovely there that it seemed a shame to take them
away.

"Oh, dear!" exclaimed Mary Jane later as
she saw her mother rise to go, "now it's going
to be late and we'll have to go and—and I'd
just love to stay in this garden forever and ever!
I would!"

"I wish you could, dear," said Mrs. Burn,
"because I like to have little girls around
me—especially little girls who love flowers as you
two do.  But I'll tell you," she added
comfortingly, "you've found the way out here now
and the next time you come to Boston, which
will be some time soon, let's hope, you come and
see me the very first day and stay as long as
ever you can."

Mary Jane promised and then she took a last
glimpse at the fountain of goldfish before Miss
Burn took them back to Boston and their hotel.

"When I have a house," she said as she
dropped off to sleep that evening, "I'm going to
have a garden just like Miss Burn's with goldfish
and one silver fish and tea and lobster salad
sandwiches and everything!"





.. vspace:: 4

.. _`THE LAST DAY IN BOSTON—AND HOME`:

.. class:: center large bold

   THE LAST DAY IN BOSTON—AND HOME

.. vspace:: 2

The last morning in Boston!  Mary Jane
blinked at the bright sunshine that
streamed in at the window and asked sleepily,
"What are we going to do to-day, Mother?"

"*Mother!*" exclaimed Alice, suddenly wide
awake, "we forgot to go to Concord!  And my
teacher told me surely, surely we must take that
ride up through Sleepy Hollow and Concord."

"Don't you worry a minute, dear," said Mrs. Merrill,
"I'm as anxious to take that ride as you
are.  In fact I had Hal get the seats in the
automobile yesterday evening, so there would be no
doubt about our being able to go this morning.
I've never taken it either, you know, so we'll
be seeing things together.  Now everybody up
and see who can beat getting dressed and ready
for breakfast."

When they stepped up to the big sightseeing
car, an hour and a half later, they found that
Uncle Hal had bought their seats for the front
row which pleased them very much.  Mary
Jane liked to see things without dodging the
head of somebody in front, and Alice and
Mrs. Merrill liked to be close to the man who tells
about the historic scenes on the way, so they
could ask questions and could hear everything
that was said.

The car soon filled up with interested sightseers
and the journey was begun.

Alice eagerly listened to all that was told and
fitted it into what she knew of early American
history.  The old church where the lights were
hung to give the signal to Paul Revere; the
road he dashed across on his long journey—marked
now, by a big bronze tablet which the
girls got out of the car to read; the "green"
where one of the early battles was fought—Alice
had read all the stories and seemed to live over
the scenes as she saw the famous sites.

Of course Mary Jane didn't know as much
history as her sister did, but she knew something
of the historical stories, as all American girls
should even if they are only in first grade, and
she learned more history in that two hours of
riding than she would have learned in a month
of reading.  It didn't seem like history out of
a book, it seemed like really truly—as it was.

The car turned down a long, shady road and
came to a stop by a tiny wooden bridge.

"There," said the driver, "is the Concord
bridge and you may get out and walk across if
you like.  There's no hurry."

"The Concord bridge?" exclaimed Alice,
"why I thought it was a *big* bridge—I've heard
so much about it."

"Size doesn't count for everything," laughed
the driver; "it's what happens that counts."

They climbed out of the automobile and
walked across the tiny bridge.  It was a low,
wooden foot bridge, so narrow that one had to
walk carefully to pass anybody coming from the
other direction.  On one side was a hand rail,
on the other nothing but the clear water of the
little creek so close below.

The girls stood in the center of the bridge
and Mrs. Merrill took their picture so Alice
could show it to her teacher at school, then they
sat down in the shade close by and Mrs. Merrill
told Mary Jane the story that made that little
bridge so famous; how the brave farmers stood
there waiting—right there on the spot Mary
Jane could see; how the Redcoats crept up
through the darkness to the very tree (no doubt
it was the very tree for its wide spreading
branches and great trunk told of its old age),
the very tree under which they were sitting, and
then there was fired the shot "for freedom," the
shot which the poet said was "heard 'round the
world."

Reluctantly leaving the interesting spot that
charmed them so, the Merrills climbed back
into the big auto and drove away; through
Concord, through Sleepy Hollow and to the
house where Louisa M. Alcott had lived.  There
Mary Jane felt at home immediately.  She saw
the lilac bushes, the old trees and the quaint
old house she had heard about.  They went
through the rooms, upstairs and down, and saw
the very books and dishes and kettles and clothes
that the girls in Miss Alcott's story had used
and worn.

"Why they were just regular girls like we
are, weren't they, Mother?" she exclaimed in
surprise.  "And they didn't know they were
going to be in a story and everybody read about
them, did they?"

"To be sure," said Mrs. Merrill, "and that's
what makes them so interesting.  They did all
the things that real folks do, and we like to hear
about such things in books."

"Wouldn't it be funny if we'd get into a story
book," said Mary Jane, laughing at the ridiculous
idea, "and somebody'd read about how we
came to see Miss Alcott's house?  I'd laugh if
we did!"

"Well, you never can tell what'll happen,"
said Alice as they wandered out through the
yard.  "I expect Meg and Beth never thought
of being in a book either.  I wonder if they
picked roses from this same old bush?" she
added as she looked at a rose-bush that rambled
high overhead, "it looks old enough to have
been here then."

It was hard to leave the quaint old house with
its interesting associations, but the honking of
a horn out in front warned them that they had
lingered long enough, so they hurried out to
finish the drive.

"When I get back home," said Mary Jane as
she snuggled down in her front seat again, "I'm
going to read all about Concord and all about
everything—if you'll read it to me, Mother, I
am."  Mrs. Merrill promised, so Mary Jane
tried to look very hard at everything they saw
so she could remember it a long, long time.

"Now then," said Mrs. Merrill briskly, as
they got out of the auto at Copley Square,
"we'll just have time to hurry up and pack our
things and get our lunch before the train
leaves.  And we won't have a bit of time to
spare, so it's a mighty good thing we haven't
left anything else to do.  That Wolverine leaves
on time whether we are on it or not."

"Won't we have time but just only to pack
and to get lunch?" asked Mary Jane disappointedly.

"Why Mary Jane!" exclaimed Mrs. Merrill,
"haven't you seen enough of Boston?"

"Oh, yes," replied Mary Jane, "I've seen
enough but I haven't done enough."

"What more is there to do, child?" asked
Mrs. Merrill.  "Seems to me you've done about
everything a person could think of already."

"Yes, I guess I have," admitted Mary Jane,
"but I wanted to do some of it over again.  I
wanted to take another ride in my swan boat,
I did."

"My dear child!" exclaimed Mrs. Merrill
sympathetically, "and you shall if I can get you
down there.  Hurry now and we'll get our packing
done in a jiffy and then before we eat we'll
go to the Commons and let you take a ride."

Up in their room Mary Jane helped all she
could with the packing.  She stuffed the tips of
all the shoes, she folded hair ribbons that had
been mussed and put clothes in neat piles on the
bed.  Alice took everything from the drawers,
picked up personal belongings from the
bathroom, and brought the clothes that had been
hanging in the closet.  With such good help
Mrs. Merrill packed in a very short time, and
sooner than she had supposed possible the trunk
was ready to go, and they were dressed in
traveling frocks ready for the journey home.

"Now a wire to Dad," she said as she took a
careful look over the room to be certain that
they were leaving nothing behind, "and I
believe we are ready to go."

"Let's not stop for a big lunch," suggested
Alice, "because we can have early dinner on
the diner.  Let's get sandwiches and milk some
place and then let Mary Jane have two rides
on the swan boats."

Mrs. Merrill telephoned Hal and he promised
to call for their bags at the hotel and then
to come for them at the entrance of the
Commons nearest the lagoon.

A very happy little girl bought tickets for six
rides and, with Alice and her mother, Mary
Jane took two last blissful rides on her favorite
boat.

"When I grow up to be a big lady and have
a little girl of my own," she observed between
rides, "I'm going to bring her to Boston and let
her ride 'n ride 'n ride."

"Seems to me that's about what I am doing
with my little girl," laughed Mrs. Merrill.  "I
believe you like the swan boats better than
anything you have seen or done on the trip."

"I do," agreed Mary Jane, "unless," she
added, thoughtfully, "unless eating in the
garden or seeing the goldfishes or swimming or
playing with John or—well, we've done a lot of
nice things, Mother, but swan boats are my
favorite, I guess."

Hal's taxi was chugging briskly when they
reached the street and they dashed off to take
their train for home.

"Now there's a whole day to ride without
getting off or hurrying or anything," said Mary
Jane luxuriously, as she settled herself in the
comfortable sleeper and leaned back against the
cushions with a deep sigh of satisfaction.  "I
just *love* riding on a train, I do, Mother."

It *was* fun to sit quietly and watch the towns
dash by.  For ten busy days Mary Jane had been
the one to do the going, hurrying from one good
time to another and now it seemed the best fun
of all to sit still and think about all the fun she
had had.

In an hour though, she began to want something
to do.  Alice, deep in a book, was close
by, while her mother and Uncle Hal, who
seemed to have an endless amount to say to each
other, were just across the aisle.  Should she
bother them—or what should she do?

Suddenly she remembered!  She had brought
something for just such a time, and so busy had
she been all the days in New England that she
hadn't once thought of what she had carried
around.  She slipped her hand back of her till
she touched her own little handbag that was
on the seat between herself and Alice, opened
it and spread out on her lap her precious paper
dolls.

Mrs. Merrill, glancing across to see that her
little girl was all right, saw what she was doing
and said, "Press the button there between the
windows, dear, and the porter will bring you a
table to spread the dolls out on."

Five minutes later Mary Jane had a table all
to herself and on it spread her whole paper
doll family.  All the time the great train sped
through Massachusetts, she played with them,
acting over again the Harvard Class Day
parties, the tea party in Mrs. Burn's pretty
garden and many other things that she herself
had done on her trip.

At five-thirty they went to the diner for
dinner, and Mary Jane had some good chicken
and hashed-brown potatoes and apple dumplings
with ice cream, before she went back to
finish playing with her dolls.

"I think paper dolls are the nicest dolls for
on a train, I do," she told her mother, as together
they neatly tucked the dolls away for a night's
rest in the handbag, "'cause they don't break
and they don't take up a lot of room, and I can
have them all along—every one of them."

Mr. Merrill met his family at the station the
next day, and there was a happy reunion and a
lot of talk about the fun they had had since they
last saw him.

"But nobody asks me what *I've* been doing?"
he exclaimed with mock grief at the first pause
in the conversation.

"Oh, Daddah," cried Mary Jane, "I'm so
sorry!  But you see we had so much to
do—graduating Uncle Hal and seeing everything,
we did.  Now *you* talk—it's your turn."

Then Mr. Merrill told his surprise.  The
builder who was to do their house in the woods
had been able to get to work sooner than he had
promised, and the house, while it wouldn't be
finished for some little time yet, was well on the
way.

"The roof's on," he told them, "and that's a
lot, for it means we can go out there and picnic
and not worry about rain.  And if all goes well,
we can pack our trunks and move into the shack
in a very few days."

"Oh, goody!" cried Mary Jane clapping her
hands gleefully, "and I'm going to make garden
and keep house and hunt flowers and *everything*!"

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   \*      \*      \*      \*      \*      \*      \*      \*

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   THE MARY JANE SERIES

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   By CLARA INGRAM JUDSON

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Take a trip with Mary Jane.  She is the heroine of this
popular series for young girls.  You'll find her a charming
traveling companion.  Her good nature, her abounding
interest in her friends and surroundings, and her fascinating
adventures both at home and abroad have endeared her
to thousands all over the country.

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MARY JANE—HER BOOK
MARY JANE—HER VISIT
MARY JANE'S KINDERGARTEN
MARY JANE DOWN SOUTH
MARY JANE'S CITY HOME
MARY JANE IN NEW ENGLAND
MARY JANE'S COUNTRY HOME
MARY JANE AT SCHOOL
MARY JANE IN CANADA
MARY JANE'S SUMMER FUN
MARY JANE'S WINTER SPORTS
MARY JANE'S VACATION
MARY JANE IN ENGLAND
MARY JANE IN SCOTLAND
MARY JANE IN FRANCE
MARY JANE IN SWITZERLAND
MARY JANE IN ITALY

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GROSSET & DUNLAP, Publishers, NEW YORK


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   \*      \*      \*      \*      \*

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*There is the high, happy spirit of youth in these famous*

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   BOOKS FOR GIRLS

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   by JANE D. ABBOTT

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BARBERRY GATE

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A boy flyer opened the Barberry Gate, closed since the day
great-grandfather Colfax locked it, and Winsome learned
the romantic story behind it all.


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LAUGHING LAST

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Sidney finds adventure in Provincetown—she takes part
in the capture of
modern pirates, and much to her surprise plays an
unexpected part in her
sister's romance.


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APRILLY

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The charming story of a young girl, child of the circus,
and the adventures which led to her goal of happiness.


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HIGHACRES

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A school story of Jerry Travis and her chum Gyp Westley.
A thread of
romance and mystery in Jerry's life runs through the tale.


.. vspace:: 2

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KEINETH

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How Keineth Randolph kept a secret—a war secret—for
a whole year
makes one of the best stories ever written for girls.


.. vspace:: 2

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RED ROBIN

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In attempting to bring happiness into the lives of mill
workers, Robin
Forsythe, heir to a fortune, has many strange adventures.


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HEYDAY

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Twenty-three!  The heyday of life.  Jay, a small town
girl, finds happiness in New York.


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LARKSPUR

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Especially interesting to any Girl Scout because
it is the story of a Girl
Scout who is poor and has to help her mother.


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HAPPY HOUSE

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How an old family quarrel is healed through a
misunderstanding and an
old homestead becomes a "happy house" in reality.


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GROSSET & DUNLAP, Publishers, NEW YORK


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   \*      \*      \*      \*      \*

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   THE NANCY DREW MYSTERY STORIES

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   By CAROLYN KEENE

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   Illustrated.  Every Volume Complete in Itself.

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Here is a thrilling series of mystery stories
for girls.  Nancy Drew,
ingenious, alert, is the daughter of a famous
criminal lawyer and
she herself is deeply interested in his mystery
cases.  Her interest
involves her often in some very dangerous and
exciting situations.

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THE SECRET OF THE OLD CLOCK

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Nancy, unaided, seeks to locate a missing will and
finds herself in the
midst of adventure.


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THE HIDDEN STAIRCASE

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Mysterious happenings in an old stone mansion lead
to an investigation
by Nancy.


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THE BUNGALOW MYSTERY

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Nancy has some perilous experiences around a deserted bungalow.


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THE MYSTERY AT LILAC INN

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Quick thinking and quick action were needed for Nancy
to extricate herself from a dangerous situation.


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THE SECRET AT SHADOW RANCH

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On a vacation in Arizona Nancy uncovers an old mystery
and solves it.


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THE SECRET OF RED GATE FARM

.. vspace:: 1

Nancy exposes the doings of a secret society on
an isolated farm.


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THE CLUE IN THE DIARY

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A fascinating and exciting story of a search for a clue
to a surprising mystery.


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NANCY'S MYSTERIOUS LETTER

.. vspace:: 1

Nancy receives a letter informing her that she is
heir to a fortune.  This
story tells of her search for another Nancy Drew.


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THE SIGN OF THE TWISTED CANDLES

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Nancy, as mediator in a generation-old feud, divulges
an unknown birthright.


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THE PASSWORD TO LARKSPUR LANE

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A carrier pigeon furnishes Nancy with a clue to a
mysterious retreat.


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THE CLUE OF THE BROKEN LOCKET

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Nancy's sympathy for adopted twins leads her into a
surprising mystery.


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THE MESSAGE IN THE HOLLOW OAK

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In Canada, Nancy protects her new property from
a crooked promoter.


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THE MYSTERY OF THE IVORY CHARM

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Nancy solves an Indian mystery by means of a lucky
elephant charm.

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GROSSET & DUNLAP, Publishers, NEW YORK


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   \*      \*      \*      \*      \*

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   Melody Lane Mystery Stories

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   By LILIAN GARIS

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Thrills, secrets, ghosts—adventures that will fascinate
you seem
to surround pretty Carol Duncan.  A vivid, plucky girl,
her cleverness at solving mysteries will captivate
and thrill every mystery fan.

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The author has written many popular mystery stories for girls
and in this new series Mrs. Garis is at her best.

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THE GHOST OF MELODY LANE

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Mystery surrounds the great organ in the home of
the "Cameo Lady"—beloved friend of Carol and sponsor
of the girls' Coral Club.  Three people see
the "ghost" that wanders in the grove carrying a
waxy white rose.  And Carol
finds the rose!  In the end she finds the ghost too!


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THE FORBIDDEN TRAIL

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There was a tradition at "Splatter Castle" on Melody Lane,
and Marah Splartier, eccentric aunt of Veronica Flint
determined to protect Vera from
following the long line of family tragedies that
had had their beginning on
the "forbidden trail."  Carol has several bad frights
before she clears up the
mystery that keeps the little family at Splatter
Castle unhappy and afraid.


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THE TOWER SECRET

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The winking lights flashing from the old tower
on the grounds of the
Bonds' new home defy explanation.  There is no one
in the tower—and no
electric power or connections!  Had the engaging
circus family that Carol
befriended anything to do with the mystery?  And what
interest had Parsnips,
the queer old farmer, in the "ghost" tower?


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THE WILD WARNING

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What power did the strange, wild warning in the woods
have over Polly
Flinders?  And why was she so desperately anxious
to earn money?  Carol
brings happiness to three families when she solves
this exciting mystery.


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THE TERROR OF MOANING CLIFF

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No tenant would stay in the great, bleak house on
"moaning cliff" that
belonged to Carol's aunt.  But Carol, courageous
and determined, finally tracks
the uncanny "haunts" to their source.


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THE DRAGON OF THE HILLS

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When Carol runs a tea shop for a friend, a baffling
mystery comes to her
with her first customer.  Who has the limping man's
lost package—the gypsies,
the oriental or the neighbor's boy who ran away?

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GROSSET & DUNLAP, Publishers, NEW YORK


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   \*      \*      \*      \*      \*

.. vspace:: 2

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The MARY and JERRY MYSTERY STORIES

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By FRANCIS HUNT

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THE MESSENGER DOG'S SECRET

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The big police dog Flanders carried a strange message in
his collar.  By following its directions, Mary and Jerry Denton
were able to bring a lost fortune to someone in need.


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THE MYSTERY OF THE TOY BANK

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Jerry Denton was saving for a bicycle, but when his little
bank strangely disappeared he had a big mystery to solve.
With the aid of Mary, several chums and a queer old sailor,
this eager lad brought about a happy solution.


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THE STORY THE PARROT TOLD

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A fire in a pet shop started a long chain of adventures for
Mary and Jerry Denton.  The tale the talking parrot told
caused plenty of excitement and mystery before the bird was
restored to its rightful owner.


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THE SECRET OF THE MISSING CLOWN

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Mary and Jerry have many happy adventures at the circus
while searching for the missing clown and his beautiful pony,
Silverfeet.

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GROSSET & DUNLAP, Publishers, NEW YORK

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   \*      \*      \*      \*      \*

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   THE BOBBSEY TWINS BOOKS

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   FOR LITTLE MEN AND WOMEN

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   By LAURA LEE HOPE

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ILLUSTRATED.  *Every volume complete in itself*.

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These books for boys and girls between the ages of three and ten
stand among children and their parents of this generation where
the books of Louisa May Alcott stood in former days.  The haps
and mishaps of this inimitable pair of twins, their many
adventures and experiences are a source of
keen delight to imaginative
children.

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THE BOBBSEY TWINS
THE BOBBSEY TWINS IN THE COUNTRY
THE BOBBSEY TWINS AT THE SEASHORE
THE BOBBSEY TWINS AT SCHOOL
THE BOBBSEY TWINS AT SNOW LODGE
THE BOBBSEY TWINS ON A HOUSEBOAT
THE BOBBSEY TWINS AT MEADOW BROOK
THE BOBBSEY TWINS AT HOME
THE BOBBSEY TWINS IN A GREAT CITY
THE BOBBSEY TWINS ON BLUEBERRY ISLAND
THE BOBBSEY TWINS ON THE DEEP BLUE SEA
THE BOBBSEY TWINS IN WASHINGTON
THE BOBBSEY TWINS IN THE GREAT WEST
THE BOBBSEY TWINS AT CEDAR CAMP
THE BOBBSEY TWINS AT THE COUNTY FAIR
THE BOBBSEY TWINS CAMPING OUT
THE BOBBSEY TWINS AND BABY MAY
THE BOBBSEY TWINS KEEPING HOUSE
THE BOBBSEY TWINS AT CLOVERBANK
THE BOBBSEY TWINS AT CHERRY CORNER
THE BOBBSEY TWINS AND THEIR SCHOOLMATES
THE BOBBSEY TWINS TREASURE HUNTING
THE BOBBSEY TWINS AT SPRUCE LAKE
THE BOBBSEY TWINS WONDERFUL SECRET
THE BOBBSEY TWINS AT THE CIRCUS
THE BOBBSEY TWINS ON AN AIRPLANE TRIP
THE BOBBSEY TWINS SOLVE A MYSTERY
THE BOBBSEY TWINS ON A RANCH
THE BOBBSEY TWINS IN ESKIMO LAND

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GROSSET & DUNLAP, Publishers, NEW YORK


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   \*      \*      \*      \*      \*

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   Three Stories of Fun and Friendship

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   THE MAIDA BOOKS

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   by INEZ HAYNES IRWIN

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MAIDA'S LITTLE SHOP

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In a darling little shop of her own Maida makes many
friends with the school children who buy her
fascinating wares.


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MAIDA'S LITTLE HOUSE

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All of her friends spend a happy summer in Maida's
perfect little house that has everything a child could
wish for.


.. vspace:: 2

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MAIDA'S LITTLE SCHOOL

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Three delightful grownups come to visit and the
children study many subjects without knowing that they
are really "going to school."

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GROSSET & DUNLAP, Publishers, NEW YORK


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   \*      \*      \*      \*      \*

.. vspace:: 2

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   DANA GIRLS MYSTERY STORIES

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   BY CAROLYN KEENE

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   *Author of the*
   NANCY DREW MYSTERY STORIES

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Impetuous, delightful Jean Dana and her charming
serious minded
sister Louise find themselves in the midst of
several mysteries, when they
attempt to aid people who are in trouble.
Thrilling moments come to the
girls as they follow up clue after clue in an
endeavor to untangle the
knotty problems in which they become enmeshed.


BY THE LIGHT OF THE STUDY LAMP

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A stolen study lamp, a fortune teller, and a
distressed schoolmate provide plenty of excitement
for the Dana girls before they locate the persons
responsible for many mysterious happenings.

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THE SECRET AT LONE TREE COTTAGE

.. vspace:: 1

While the girls are at Starhurst School,
they learn that their beloved
English teacher has vanished in a strange manner.
In tracing her, Jean
and Louise are able to aid the frantic relatives
of a dear little curly-haired
tot, but not before they themselves are in danger of disappearing.


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IN THE SHADOW OF THE TOWER

.. vspace:: 1

The mingling of unusual characters, who have life
interests very different from one another, lends excitement
and intrigue to a Christmas
vacation of the Dana girls.  Their ability to fit
together the pieces of a
strange puzzle brings happiness to several persons!


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A THREE-CORNERED MYSTERY

.. vspace:: 1

There were three strange corners which the
Dana girls successfully
rounded in their search for clues to clear
up a mystery, involving property
and an international spy of many aliases.


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THE SECRET AT THE HERMITAGE

.. vspace:: 1

When Louise is mistaken for a runaway prisoner,
strange things begin
to happen, which lead the Danas to uncover
the secret of a talented girl
and her crippled charge.

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GROSSET & DUNLAP, Publishers, NEW YORK

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