Gay was sent home in an improvised ambulance, a farm wagon filled with hay. His arm was broken, and it proved to be an ugly fracture. But when it was set the doctor said,—

"You bore it bravely, Miss May—better than most boys."

The doctor's praise was sweet to Gay and he smiled faintly in reply; he was too weak to answer with his usual animation.

The Hazelnooks and even the Plainville boys and Ethel and Julia followed Gay to Rose Cottage and were waiting on the porch for the doctor, and when they saw him they cried in one voice,—

"How is she?"

"Weak, but she bore it like a hero, boys!" replied the jolly doctor. "You will have to stand on your own merits next time; May won't play ball again this summer—the little Amazon!"

"We want to see her, doctor, please," said Lyman.

"I don't please—not for two days," said the doctor.

They murmured loudly against this. "Just let us see her!" they pleaded. "Just a peep!"

"Not a peep!" answered the doctor, firmly. Then the big, bluff man looked grave. "It is for your friend's good," he added.

And they said no more about it, but went away quietly and with sober faces. It was during these two days that the Hazelnook boys and girls found out how well they liked their friend.

"She's so honest and square," said Robert.

"And so full of fun and pluck," said Will.

"So bright and pretty," said Julia.

"Not a frill," said Ned.

"The jolliest girl I've ever seen," said Ethel.

"The finest girl living," said Fred.

"As deep as they make them," said Lyman. "Who else would have said about the Radical to the minister?"

Thus they spoke of the prankish boy with vast admiration and affection, and "May's" remarks and "May's" performances were reported by these young people to their elders and these, also, began to discuss "May Walcott" and to regard her as a clever, if unconventional girl. Even the judge's mother, who, since Gay's descent from the coach, had prophesied gloomily that "Miss Linn's niece would mortify her to death" suddenly changed her tune and declared that she had always liked the fresh, breezy ways of the child, and that she had known from the first that "May" was destined to be popular.

"Young people nowadays," quoth the judge's mother to the doctor's wife, "like somebody that has some life."

"She certainly has made those rough village boys quite gentlemanly," admitted the doctor's wife.

These rumors and rumors of rumors reached the ears of the Misses Linn and had much influence in reconciling them to their supposed niece's accident on the ball-field. They may have thought that it would not do to criticise such a popular young person, at all events they uttered no word of reproach, but devoted themselves lovingly to the care of the invalid.

The doctor came every day, and upon more than one occasion he found his patient—alas for romance—decidedly cross.

"Oh, Doctor, if I might just sit on the porch and see the boys!" pleaded Gay, the second day after the accident.

"Will you promise to keep quiet and not try to do any left-handed acts?"

"Not an act—if you'll only let me go."

"Well, look out for your arm!" said the doctor, warningly, for Gay ran out of the room with a cry of delight, without waiting for further instructions.

No sooner was Gay seated on the porch than visitors sprang up as if by magic from all sides. The truth was, Lyman was watching outside the gate to get the first word from the doctor, and when Gay appeared Lyman notified Will, who told Robert, who told Ned, who in his turn imparted the knowledge to Ethel, who informed Julia, and at length all his friends in Hazelnook were clustered around the invalid.

Then what a hubbub there was! Everybody talked at once. Everybody laughed at once. There was so much rejoicing that at length they became quiet from sheer exhaustion, and the air about was as silent as it is when a noisy machine suddenly ceases its motion.

"I'm cold!" announced Gay, suddenly.

"Then you must go right into the house," said Miss Celia, greatly agitated. "You can find something in there to amuse your friends."

The young people went in, leaving the aunts on the porch, and soon the sound of lively music was heard.

"I hope May will be careful of her arm," said Miss Celia, anxiously.

"Celia, who is that coming up the drive?" said Miss Linn, without heeding her sister's remark.

"I don't know," Miss Celia answered. Then, for the first time in her life she took the initiative; impelled by an impulse she could not have explained, she left the porch and went to meet the persons who were rapidly approaching.

The unknown visitors presented an extremely picturesque appearance as they advanced. The General, for of course it was he, in holiday attire, was leading May, who wore one of the "little great-aunt's" frocks, which looked for all the world, so faithfully does Fashion repeat herself, as though it had been designed by a modern artist.

"Madam," said the General, bowing profoundly, "have I the honor to address Miss Celia Linn?"

"Yes," murmured Miss Celia.

"I am General Haines, of Cedarville," began the General.

"Don't you know Aunt Celia? I'm May," interrupted May.

"May!" repeated Miss Celia, looking closely at the young visitor for the first time.

"May Walcott," May answered, with a smile, that was strangely familiar to Miss Celia.

"We have one May Walcott with us now," said Miss Celia, visibly dazed.

"Allow me to explain," said the General.

But there was no time for explanations. At that time Gay, followed by the boys and girls agape with curiosity, came running forward as fast as his disabled condition would permit, and kissed May warmly.

Then the twins stood side by side, and everybody exclaimed at the resemblance.

"Could you tell them apart?"

"Except for the arm."

"And the dress."

"The same eyes!"

"Mouth!"

"Hair!"

"I cannot understand it," said Miss Celia; "these are certainly Elinor's twins, but how does it happen that both are girls?"

"I'll tell you——" Gay began.

"Let us go in the house," said Miss Celia, taking the real May by the hand and giving the General, who still held May's other hand, a smile that made him feel that life was as fair as the dawn of spring.

Miss Linn met them at the hall door, but no one thought to introduce her, and she followed them into the drawing-room, where Gay told the story of the masquerade with which we are already familiar.

"What!" they cried, when he was finished, "are you a boy?"

"Yes—thank goodness!" said Gay, piously.

"I'm glad that you are a boy," said Miss Linn, with a sigh of relief; "it explains a good many things."

"My actions?" said Gay. "Oh, it was awful, I can tell you. It is just like waiting to sneeze in church when you know all the time you mustn't, to try to be a girl when you are really a boy!"

There was a general laugh at Gay's comparison, in which it might have been noticed the Hazelnook young people joined very faintly. After a slight pause Lyman arose; his companions rose, also, for by some mysterious method of communication they knew that they were in sympathy with what he was about to say.

"I think," he said, slowly, but with suppressed feeling, "that it was a pretty crooked thing to deceive us deliberately by making us think that you were a fine girl. It can't help making a difference in our opinion of you, and I guess we'd better say good-by."

Lyman bowed to the company, the others did the same, then, like icicles under the noonday heat of the sun, they melted away out of the room.

When the little maid, in the quaint old-time frock, saw the favorite thus stripped of favor she put her arms about his neck and whispered—

"You have me, no matter what happens. Don't fuss," she added, for she had learned the lesson of patience. "If they really like you it will come out all right."

"I don't know about it," said Gay, gloomily. "I'm afraid I'm frozen out altogether."

And not until that moment did Gay realize how highly he valued his popularity.