so young a girl, and these were not without their effect on her mind and character.

For years the manor house of Hetherford had been in the possession of the Lawrences, and no family in the town was better known, or more universally loved. The manor itself was a charming old park, stretching out far enough to make it no small walk to compass its grounds. Grand old trees shaded the well-kept lawns, and pretty graveled paths, lined with box-wood, led hither and thither.

The house was old-fashioned in the extreme, large, square, and commodious. A broad veranda ran around three sides of it, and across the front there was an upper balcony, which, in the season, was covered with trailing vines of roses, honeysuckles, and passion flowers. During the warm summer days this was a favorite retreat of the girls. A few rugs were thrown down, comfortable wicker chairs were scattered here and there, and on the low round table in the center there was always a motley collection of books, writing 8 materials, and work-baskets. Through occasional openings in the vines were revealed pretty vistas of lawn and flowering rosebeds, beyond which stretched the blue waters of the sound, sparkling in the sunshine as if strewn with a thousand jewels. It was, indeed, an Arcadian spot.

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Within doors everything was equally old-fashioned and comfortable. Opening on to the broad hall, which ran through the middle of the house, were four large airy rooms, simply but substantially furnished, and with an unmistakable air of being lived in. Upstairs, in addition to the rooms occupied by the family, each one of which was bright and cheery, and clearly revealed the individuality of its occupant, were several guest chambers, with heavy four-post bedsteads and quaint mahogany dressing-tables, and during the summer season these were rarely untenanted, for the Lawrences' hospitality was as old-fashioned as their home.

Quiet Hetherford was almost unknown as a summer resort, but the few people who had once found their way there came again and again, and with them all the Lawrences were on intimate and friendly terms. It was not strange that young men came but rarely to this out-of-the-way little village, but a colony of girls thrived and were happy there; happier, perhaps, for this very lack of the masculine element. The girls often laughed merrily over it, and no one of them seemed to take it very much to heart, save pretty little dark-eyed Emily Varian, who spent her summers with her uncle, Dr. Evelyn Birdsall, the Presbyterian minister. 9

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