AN AFTERNOON CALL.

Next afternoon Will put on his best clothes and walked up to the big house.

On the way he was undecided whether to go to the front door or the back one. Never before had he entered the place as a guest, and in the end he wisely compromised by advancing to the side entrance that he had observed was mostly used by the children.

Annabel saw him from the window and beckoned him in, her face all smiles of welcome, and that helped him to retain his composure.

“Come right in, sir,” said Fanny, the maid who admitted him. “Miss Annabel’s not allowed to go to the door yet.”

“Hello, Will,” said the girl, shyly slipping her hand in his. “I’m awful glad you’ve come for everybody has gone out and left me today.”

“Why, Nan, how white you look!” he exclaimed. “That water in the pond must have been pretty cold for you.”

“No more than for you, Will,” she replied. “But it wasn’t the cold, you know; ’twas the awful fear of dying—of being drowned and lost under the ice,” and she looked at him with big eyes into which a shade of fear crept at the very recollection of that dreadful moment.

“There, there, Nan,” said he, soothingly; “let’s sit down and talk about something else,” and he led her to a sofa, still holding her small white hand in his brown one.

The girl glanced at him gratefully. Will seemed to understand her even better than Mary Louise did; and he had a gentle way with her that was at once pleasant and comforting.

“Where did the folks go?” he asked, with well assumed cheerfulness.

“Out coasting. The hill back of Thompson’s is just fine, now—as smooth as glass, Ted says. I’d like to be with them, for my sled’s the swiftest of them all; but,” with a sigh, “Doctor Meigs says I must stay in the house for three days. Isn’t it dreadful, Will?”

“Oh, I don’t know, Nan. He’s usually right about these things; and it seems mighty pleasant in here,” glancing around at the cozy room with its glowing fire in the grate.

“It’s nice—now,” she answered, sweetly, and Will looked at her with sudden interest. He had never before noticed how bright and fair Annabel’s face was. The freckles didn’t seem to mar it a bit, and the nose turned up just enough to make her expression jolly and spirited. And as for the hair, the red was almost pretty where the firelight fell upon it.

Will had paid no attention until now to girls’ looks. A girl had seemed to be “just a girl” to him. And he, as well as her brothers and the other boys, had often teased Nan about her red hair and pug nose, without observing either of them very closely. But today he began to think all the fellows must have been blind, and that the girl’s claim to beauty was greater than any of them had ever suspected.

Somehow, too, Annabel’s accident and near approach to death seemed to have changed her. At any rate she was never the same to Will afterward. He couldn’t well have explained how she was different; but the large blue eyes had a new look in them, she was less romping and boisterous in her ways, and gentler in her speech.

She sat quietly in her corner of the sofa, a demure and almost bashful look upon her pleasant face. But in her natural and simple way she entertained her boy friend so cleverly that he never suspected he was being entertained at all.

“Papa says you’ve been to see him, and that you two have become great friends,” she remarked.

“Mr. Williams was surely very nice to me,” he answered, with enthusiasm. “I’m sure your father’s a good man, Annabel.”

“The best in the world, Will. We’re always happy when father’s home. But that isn’t very often, you know, he’s so busy.”

There was a pause, after that, which neither noticed.

“Nora says you grow those lovely mushrooms we’ve been having lately,” she said. “Do you, Will?”

“Yes; didn’t you know it? In the old barn. Doctor Meigs and I are partners. Do you like mushrooms, Nan?”

“Very much; and so does papa.”

“I’ll bring you some tomorrow,” he promised, greatly delighted to find something he could do for her.

“That will be fine,” she answered; “because, if you bring them, we can have a talk, you know. And it’s sort of dull, staying in the house all day. The others are out every minute of the time, for school begins again next Monday, and they want to have all the fun they can while vacation lasts.”

“That’s natural,” said Will. “It’s too bad you have to stay in during vacation. Say, Annabel; do you like to read Indian stories?”

“I don’t know; I’ve never read any.”

“I’ve got a swell Indian book at home; one that the Doctor gave me on my birthday. It’s all about Dick Onslow among the red-skins, and I call it a corker!”

“I’d like to read it,” said Annabel, smiling at his enthusiasm.

“Well, I’ll bring it over,” he agreed. “Then when you’re alone, you can read it.”

“Thank you,” said the girl, dreamily.

Then came another pause. It didn’t seem to them necessary to talk all the time; but finally Annabel gave a little start and began speaking of the school, and their mutual friends in the village so that the time passed swiftly away and it began to grow dark before either of them noticed it.

But bye and bye Will chanced to remember that Egbert had been left to tend the fires alone, so he jumped up and said he must go. And Annabel made no attempt to keep him, but stood at the window and waved her hand in farewell as he passed down the walk.

Mrs. Williams had another of her bad headaches that day, so she did not join the family at the evening meal, a circumstance that filled the children with thoughtless delight.

Mr. Williams was with them, however, for whenever he could be in Bingham he loved to have his family about him, and all the little folks were very fond of him indeed.

“Will was here today,” said Annabel; whereat there was an uproar from the others because they had missed their favorite playmate. And Gladys added:

“I’se busted my top, so Will’s got to make it fixed.”

“He’s coming again tomorrow,” Annabel announced, “to bring me a book, and some mushrooms. Then he can fix the top, Gladys.”

Mary Louise looked at her sister curiously, and even Ted smiled at the wave of red that dyed Nan’s cheeks. “Seems to me you’re getting pretty thick, just because he dragged you out of the pond,” cried Reggie, mischievously.

“Will’s a fine fellow,”, said Mr. Williams, gravely, “and I hope he’ll come often!”

“So does I!” declared Gladys; and then the conversation shifted to another subject, greatly to Annabel’s relief.

Mary Louise was nearer Will’s age than Annabel, being now fifteen and almost on the verge of young womanhood. And Annabel, although little more than a year her junior, had until now been considered merely a romping, careless girl, although it was true she was scarcely behind her sister in the high school classes. Big Will Carden, taller at sixteen than Mr. Williams himself, and strong and manly in build, seemed so much older and more matured than Annabel that it was really absurd for Reginald to couple their names, even in a joking way.

Will came the next day, to find Annabel again alone; but presently little Gladys toddled in and brought her top to be mended, and when he had succeeded in making it spin the little one nestled in his lap with a sigh of contentment.

“Will,” she asked, after a moment of earnest thought, “is you Nan’s beau?”

“Of course!” he replied, laughing gaily. “And yours, too, Gladie!”

That made the wee one smile with satisfaction, and it pleased Annabel also, although she hastened rather awkwardly to talk of Dick Onslow and declare she would enjoy reading of his adventures.

On Monday the holidays ended, and Mr. Williams regretfully returned to his office in the city, where most of his time was spent.

Annabel was by this time fully recovered, and went to school with the others; but Will walked home with her that afternoon, and the next afternoon also, and this was enough to start all the older scholars plaguing them, as young folks will do in case of boy and girl friendships, and calling them “sweethearts.”

Will merely laughed and replied good naturedly to the taunts, and Annabel tossed her tawny head half in pride and half in defiance and told the other girls they were jealous. So it was not long before their comrades tired of teasing them and they were left to do as they pleased.

When spring came on and the weather grew warmer, Will Carden not only walked home from school with Annabel, but came every morning across lots to meet her at the corner of the street near the big house and accompany her to the school. Sometimes Mary Louise or Theodore joined them, but more often they were left to themselves, the boys growling that “Will wasn’t half as much fun as he used to be,” and the girls wondering what he could see in “that freckled-faced Nan Williams” to interest him so greatly.

But the truth was that the two had grown very congenial, and liked to be together. Annabel had learned all about Will’s life and ambitions and understood him as no other companion had ever been able to do. He was sure of her sympathy whenever anything went wrong, and knew she would share his joy when he was “in luck.”

It was Annabel who advised him to “make a nest-egg” of the forty-three dollars which the doctor paid him in dividends the first of the year, and the girl planned shrewdly in many ways to encourage him and give him confidence in his future. In addition to this, she was more clever in her studies than Will, and often she was of great assistance to him in explaining the lessons, when his slower mind failed to grasp the details.

I can’t pretend to explain how so much real wisdom came to lurk in Annabel’s childish head; but people said she was more like her father than any of the other children. During the months that followed her rescue from the icy pond she grew much more sedate in demeanor than before, and more considerate of her brothers and sisters, so that they soon came to look upon her as their mentor, in a degree, and asked her advice about many of the little trials of their daily lives.