“And when are the little Hinham girls coming to visit you?” asked Grandma Miller, as Roxy finished her story.

“I think we could have a swing fixed on that big branch of the butternut tree,” said Roxy’s mother thoughtfully, for Roxy had described the swing as one of the chief delights of the visit with her new friends.

The little girl, leaning against the arm of her mother’s chair, looked wonderingly from her mother to her grandmother. Neither of them had said a word of blame; and Grandma Miller even nodded and smiled when Roxy had explained that she did not remember her promise about not going beyond the bridge.

“Of course you forgot it, my dear, or you would not have gone,” she said, and Roxy gave a sigh of relief.

“Oh, I am glad it isn’t a secret any longer. I’ll tell Polly to-morrow!” she exclaimed, as her mother drew her down into her lap.

Then there was a little more talk about the swing, and Roxy told her mother about the tiny bantam chickens, and that Roland had brought her as far as the bridge with the gray ponies. “I won’t forget about the bridge again,” she declared earnestly, and her mother said:

“No one means to forget a promise; but we must think of some way to remind you of this one.”

“I know a way!” declared Grandma Miller. “Just wait a moment,” and she went briskly across the porch into the house.

“What way do you suppose Grandma means?” questioned Roxy; but her mother declared that she could not imagine. “Unless Grandma means to tie a very long string to you,” and at this Roxy laughed happily.

“Here is something, Roxy, that will make you remember not to go beyond the bridge, and to keep whatever promise you make! Hold out your left hand,” said Grandma Miller, and Roxy promptly obeyed, and Grandma slipped a gold ring on the little girl’s forefinger. “It just fits!” she said smilingly. “I thought it would! Now, Roxana,” and Grandma Miller’s voice grew serious, “whenever you look at that ring remember that it means a number of things: first of all it means: keep a promise; and besides that it means keep your temper; it is always a silly thing to get angry.”

“Yes’m! It’s a lovely ring!” said Roxy, sliding from her mother’s lap, and standing close beside Grandma Miller. “I’ve wanted a ring, and this is so pretty!” and she held out her hand and looked admiringly at the gold ring with its chased pattern of roses. “Thank you, Grandma; I couldn’t forget now,” she added; and when a little later she went upstairs she again fastened the white signal, meaning “Come over as soon as you can,” to the green shutter, and went happily to bed eager for the morning to come when she could tell Polly about the Hinham girls and show her this wonderful ring that was to help Roxy remember her promises and keep her temper.

Polly appeared in good season the next morning, and listened smilingly to the story of Roxy’s visit, admired the pretty chased ring, and asked Mrs. Delfield’s permission to take Roxy on a fishing excursion.

“I have brought a luncheon, and we will be home early in the afternoon,” she promised, and in a little while Roxy was ready to start, and the two girls went off across the pasture toward the brook.

“Roxy, why don’t you have your ‘circus’ party under the big sycamore? It would be a splendid place. We could fix up a tent close by, just like a real circus, and have a picnic dinner, and plan it all without your grandma guessing a word about it!” suggested Polly, as they came in sight of the big tree.

Roxy eagerly agreed, and Polly pointed out a fine place for a tent, and said she was sure that her father would help them put it up.

Then they followed the brook on up the slope and came to a thick growth of hazelwood, where Polly stopped to cut a couple of hazel-rods.

“I have some white moths for bait, and some fishing-lines; and there are always trout in this stream,” she told Roxy. “We’ll have to keep quiet, though, when we begin to fish.”

Roxy smiled happily. Polly had long promised her this fishing excursion, and she was now sure that it was going to be a wonderful day.

“We’ll build a fire and cook the trout, won’t we, Polly?” she said, and Polly promised, and began singing:

“I went into the hazelwood,
Because a plan was in my head,
To cut and peel a hazel-rod,
And put a berry on a thread.
“And when the birds are on the wing,
And flowers, like stars, are shining out,
I’ll drop the berry in the stream,
And catch a little silver trout.”

Roxy stood watching Polly and listened eagerly. “I wish I could sing that, Polly,” she said.

“Try!” responded Polly; and she slowly sang the first words over and Roxy repeated them, so that by the time the hazel-rods were cut and trimmed and Polly had fastened the lines, both the girls were singing the old song.

Then they made their way to the brook, and swung their lines into the clear water and in a short time Polly had caught “a little silver trout,” and almost at the same moment there was a pull on Roxy’s line and she, too, had caught a fine speckled trout.

It was Polly who re-baited their hooks, and when they each had landed another fish declared they had enough.

“We’ll find a good place for a fire and cook them,” she said, and Roxy was quite ready to do this. The shining gold ring on her forefinger made her resolve that she would do whatever Polly wanted to do, and she was sure that she would never again be angry at Polly.

The rough pasture slope had many places where a fire could safely be lighted, and they selected the shady side of a towering ledge and Polly built up a three-sided oven of flat stones with another flat stone on top on which she put the trout. Then the fire was started and carefully watched; the fish were cautiously turned from time to time and when Polly declared them nearly cooked the fire was allowed to die.

Polly’s lunch basket was well filled. There were cream-of-tartar biscuits, ginger-cakes, a tumbler of strawberry-jam, and a bottle of milk, and the two girls feasted happily. But Roxy could not forget the plum tarts she had so selfishly devoured, and she resolved to ask Dulcie to make some specially for Polly.

The two friends now made further plans for Roxy’s circus.

“You must ask Mr. Greaves, Roxy, because he is the minister, and Mrs. Greaves is your grandma’s best friend,” said Polly. “You and I will take ‘Brownie’ and drive about and ask whoever you want.”

“All the Hinhams,” said Roxy promptly.

“Of course,” Polly agreed.

“And you and your father and mother,” continued Roxy.

Polly nodded.

“And who else?” questioned Roxy, adding quickly: “I do wish my father could come.”

“Perhaps he will,” responded Polly, “but I think with the Hinhams and Mr. and Mrs. Greaves it will be a real party. Where is your father, Roxy?”

Roxy’s face grew sober. “We don’t know,” she replied. “Mother thinks he may be with General Pope near Culpepper, and she is hoping to hear any day that he can come and see us.”

Polly made no reply; she had heard her father say, that very morning, that news had come that Confederate soldiers commanded by General Jackson were advancing against General Pope, and that a battle might follow. Polly knew that the city of Washington was believed to be in danger of an attack by the Confederates, but she did not speak of this to Roxy.

“Do you suppose the Yankee boy that I found is safe now?” Roxy questioned, and Polly assured her that the young soldier must have reached the Union lines.

“When your father comes you can tell him how you helped a Yankee soldier,” said Polly; “it isn’t every girl who has a chance. I wish I could do something.”

“Well, Polly, perhaps you can. Grandma says that maybe the war may come right into Maryland,” Roxy replied, and the two girls looked at each other with sober faces; for even ten-year-old Roxy realized that the approach of a battle between Northern and Southern troops was indeed a terrible thing.

“I promised to come home early,” said Polly, “so we had better start;” and, making sure that the fire was out, the two girls started across the pasture toward the big sycamore where they bade each other good-bye.

“I’ll stop for you about three to-morrow afternoon, and we will drive over and invite Mr. and Mrs. Greaves,” said Polly.

“Yes, and the Hinhams,” agreed Roxy, smiling at the thought of the party under the big sycamore.

As she followed the brook a short distance on her way toward home, her thoughts were of all that must be done to make the “circus” complete. She resolved to spend the rest of the afternoon in arranging the paper animals, and cutting out the ones that were not yet ready.

But as she went through the opening in the wall and looked up toward the house she gave a little exclamation of surprise and entirely forgot about Grandmother Miller’s birthday surprise as she ran up the slope; for there were the gray ponies and phaeton standing in the yard, and on the porch she could see the three small girls in white dresses and a tall boy talking to her mother.

“The Hinhams! The Hinhams!” she whispered happily, and ran swiftly toward the house eager to welcome them.