“Well, lads and lassies—or lassies and lads, it’s due you to hear all I’ve found out concerning Ananias and Sapphira. I don’t believe that those are their real names but I’ve heard no other. The curious old man who left them here is, presumably, insane on the subject of religion. He appeared on the mountain early in the summer, with these little ones, and preËmpted that tumble-down cottage over the bluff beyond our gates. Most of you know it by sight; eh?”

“Yes, indeed! It looks as if it had been thrown over the edge of the road, just there where it’s so steep. Old Griselda, the lodge-keeper’s wife I live with claims it’s haunted, and always has been. Hans says not, except by tramps and such,” answered James Barlow.

“Tramps? Are tramps on this mountain? Oh! I don’t like that. I’d have been afraid to come if I’d known that!” protested Molly Breckenridge with a little shiver.

Of course they all laughed at her and Monty valiantly assured her:

“Don’t you worry. I’m here.” Then added as an after-thought, “and so are the other boys.”

Laughter came easily that Monday morning and it was Monty’s turn to get his share of it, and he accepted it with great good nature. They were such a happy company with almost a whole week of unknown enjoyment before them, and the gravity of Mr. Seth’s face did not affect their own hilarity. Dorothy had confided to Alfaretta that she had written to Mrs. Calvert for “another hundred dollars” and the matter was a “secret” between these two.

“You, Alfy dear, because you never had, and likely never will have, a hundred dollars of your own, may have the privilege of planning what we will do with mine. That’s to prove I love you; and if you plan nice things—real nice ones, Alfy—I’ll spend it just as you want.”

Sensible, but not too-sensitive, Alfaretta shook her head, and asked:

“Do you know how to make a hare pie?”

“Why, of course not. How should I? I’m not a cook!”

“First catch your hare! You haven’t got your money yet and I shan’t wear my brains out, plannin’ no plans—yet. You couldn’t get up nicer times’n the Master does, and he hasn’t spent a cent on this House Party, so far forth as I know, savin’ what he put in the collection plate to church, yesterday. Come on; he promised to tell all he’d found out about the twinses and all the rest of us is listenin’ to him now.”

So Dorothy had followed to the wide piazza where the young people had grouped themselves affectionately about their beloved Master; who now repeated for the newcomers’ information:

“The old man is the children’s grandfather, on their father’s side. The twins are orphans, whom the mother’s family repudiate, and he has cared for them, off and on, ever since their father died, as their mother did when they were born.”

“Oh! the poor little creatures!” cried Helena Montaigne, and snuggled a twin to her side; while there were tears in Molly Breckenridge’s eyes as she caressed the other.

“I said ‘off and on.’ The off times are when the old man is seized by the desire to preach to anyone who will listen. Then he wanders away, sleeps where the night finds him, and eats what charity bestows. Ordinarily, he does not so much as place the babies anywhere; just leaves them to chance. When they are with him he is very stern with them, punishing them severely if they disobey his least command; and they are greatly afraid of him. Well, here they are! I’ve tried to place them elsewhere, in a legitimate home; but I hesitate about an Orphanage until—Time sometimes softens hard hearts!” with this curious ending Mr. Winters relapsed into a profound reverie and nobody presumed to disturb him.

Until Mabel Bruce suddenly demanded:

“Where’s their other clothes?”

The farrier laughed. Mabel was an interesting study to him. He had never seen a little girl just like her; and he answered promptly:

“That’s what neither Norah nor I can find out. Only from the appearance of some ashes in the fireplace of the hut I fear they have been burned. I took Norah down there early this morning, for a woman sees more than a man, but even she was disappointed. However, that’s easily remedied. One of the Headquarters we shall visit is in Newburgh, where are also many shops. Some of you girls must take the little tackers to one of these places and outfit them with what is actually needed. Nothing more; and I will pay the bill.”

“Beg pardon, Mr. Seth, but you will not! I will pay myself,” cried Dorothy, eagerly.

“With what, Dolly dear? I thought you were the most impecunious young person of the lot.”

“I am—just now; but I shan’t be long,” answered the young hostess, with a confident wink in Alfaretta’s direction. To which that matter-of-fact maid replied by a contemptuous toss of her head and the enigmatical words:

“Hare pie!”

“Wagons all ready, Mr. Winters!” announced a stable boy, appearing around the house corner.

“Passengers all ready!” shouted Danny Smith, perhaps the very happiest member of that happy Party. Never in his short, hard-worked life had he recreated for a whole week, with no chores to do, no reprimands to hear, and no solitude in distant corn-fields where the only sound he heard was the whack-whack of his own hoe. A week of idleness, jolly companionship, feasting and luxury—Danny had to rub his eyes, sometimes, to see if he were really awake.

“All ready, all?”

“All ready!”

Much in the order of their Sunday’s division they settled themselves for the drive to Newburgh, where the first stop was to be made, except that Molly Breckenridge declared she must ride beside Dorothy, having something most important to discuss with her friend. Also, she insisted that the twins ride with them, on the wagon-bottom between their feet.

“They can’t fall out that way, and it’s about them—I’ll tell everybody later.”

It was an hour when nobody wished to dash the pleasure of anybody else, so Mr. Seth nodded compliance; saying:

“Then I’ll take this other little lady alongside myself!” and lifted Luna to the place.

This time she showed neither fear nor hesitation. She accepted the situation with that blankly smiling countenance she wore when she was physically comfortable, and the horses had not traveled far before her head drooped against the Master’s shoulder, as it had against Dorothy’s, and she fell asleep.

“Poor thing! She has so little strength. She looks well but the least exertion exhausts her. Like one who has been imprisoned till he has lost the use of his limbs. I wonder who she is! I wonder, are we doing right not to advertise her!” thought the farrier; then contented himself with his former arguments against the advertising and the fact that Mrs. Calvert would soon be coming home and would decide the matter at once.

“Cousin Betty can solve many a riddle, and will this one. Meanwhile, the waif is well cared for and as happy as she can ever be, I fancy. Best not to disturb her yet.”

When the wagon stopped at the door of the old stone Headquarters on the outskirts of Newburgh city, Helena said:

“It will save time, Mr. Winters, if some of us drive on to the business streets and do the shopping for these twins. I’m familiar with this old house—have often brought our guests to see it; so I could help in the errands.”

“And I!” “And I!” cried Molly and Dolly, together. “Our school used to come here to study history, sometimes, right from the very things themselves. Besides—” Here Molly gave her chum such a pinch on the arm that Dolly ended her explanation with a squeal.

So it was quickly settled. Mr. Winters handed Helena his purse, which she at first politely declined to take—having designs herself in that line. But when he as courteously and firmly insisted, she took it and said no more. Helena Montaigne would never carry her own wishes to the point of rudeness; yet in her heart she was longing to clothe the really pretty children after a fancy of her own. However, she put this wish aside, and the three girls with the orphans were swiftly driven to the best department stores the city afforded.

Here trouble awaited. At the statement that one was a girl and one a boy—which her own perception would not have taught her—the saleswoman produced garments suitable for the two sexes.

“Now which shall I fit first?” she asked smiling at the close resemblance of the pair.

“Why, ladies first, I suppose!” laughed Helena and moved one child forward. The other immediately placed itself alongside, and Molly exclaimed:

“Now, I don’t know which is which! Anybody got a ribbon? or anything will answer to tie upon one and so distinguish them. Baby, which are you?”

The twin she had clasped smiled at her seraphically but made no reply; merely cocked its flaxen head aside and thrust its finger in mouth. At once its mate did likewise, and Helena tossed her hands in comical dismay.

“Oh! Get the ribbon, please! Then we’ll make them spell themselves and tie the mark on before we forget.”

So they did; and the attendant listened in amusement to the performance; till finding themselves of so much interest to others the midgets began again glibly to spell and—both together. Prancing and giggling, fully realizing their own mischievousness, the babies made that hour of shopping one which all concerned—save themselves—long remembered. Also, if there were the slightest difference between the garments selected for them they set up such a violent protest that peace could only be restored by clothing them alike.

So they emerged from the establishment clad in snowy little suits that seemed as fitting for a girl as for a boy, with pretty hats which they elected to wear upon their backs, and sandals on their stubby feet—the nearest approach to shoes to which they would submit. A big box of suitable underwear was put into the wagon and they were lifted in after it, while Molly begged to walk a block or two till she found a confectioner’s.

Here she expended all her pocket-money, and climbing back beside Dorothy politely opened her big box and offered it to her friends. Incidentally, to the twins; who stared, tasted, and stared again!

“My heart! I don’t believe they have ever tasted candy! They don’t know what it means!” cried Molly, laughing.

They soon found out. In a flash they had seized the pasteboard box and snuggled it between them. Then with it securely wedged beneath their knees they proceeded to empty it at lightning speed.

“Why! I never saw anything eat like that, not even a dog! You can’t see them swallow!” said Helena, amazed. “They’re getting themselves all daubed with that chocolate, too—The pity!”

“Give it back to me, at once!” commanded Molly sternly, but she spoke to unhearing ears. Then she tried to snatch it away, but they were too strong for her, as anybody who has ever thus contested with sturdy five-year-olds can guess.

“They’ll make themselves ill! and they’ll ruin their new clothes. What will Mr. Winters say? Molly, how could you!” wailed Dorothy. “I wish we’d never brought them. I mean, I wish you hadn’t thought of candy. I wish——”

“You’d hold your tongue!” snapped Molly, so viciously that her friends both stared and Dolly said no more. “I don’t mean to be so horrid, girls, but it is so vexatious! I’d spent all I had and meant it to be such an addition to our picnic dinner in the woods. I’m ashamed—course—and I apologize. Though I remember Miss Penelope says that apologies and explanations are almost worse than useless. Besides——”

Here Molly paused and looked at Dorothy most meaningly; but whatever she meant to say further Dolly stopped by a shake of her head, adding:

“Now it’s my turn to apologize, Helena dear, but there’s something we two have in mind that we want to spring on the whole lot of you at once. Will you forgive and wait?”

“Surely. But—those children! I hope we’ll get back to the others soon and that Mr. Winters will have more influence with them than we’ve had.”

It proved that he had. One glance and word from him and the twins cowered as if they expected cruel blows, and without the slightest resistance permitted him to take away the nearly empty box.

“Doesn’t look very tempting now, I think. Best throw it away, especially as I had already provided sweeties for the crowd. Now, lads, westward ho! It’s nearly dinner time again, and I believe it’s being with so many other hungry youngsters makes me one too!” cried the Master, stepping to his place and saying with an air of authority which nobody disputed: “Hand over the twins. I’ll take them under my care for the rest of this day!”

The Headquarters which they were next to visit, and on whose grounds they were to picnic, was bordered by a stream that just there widened into a little lake. As they approached the place, cramped by their long ride, most of the lads left the wagons to finish the distance on foot.

“Ever hear the story of General Lafayette and this creek, Melvin?” asked Herbert. “Good enough to tell and not against your side either.”

“Go on,” said Melvin, resignedly. “I fancy I can match any yarn of yours with one of my own, don’t you know.”

“Can’t beat this. In those days there was no bridge here, not even a footbridge. One had to ford the stream. The General was going to a party at that very house yonder and was in his best togs. Course, he didn’t want to get his pumps wet so he hired an Irishman—more likely a Britisher—to carry him over. Half way over—a little slip—not intentional, of course!—and down goes my General, ker-splash! Just this way it was! Only it’s turn and turn about, now. Young America totes old England and——”

“Lads, lads! That footbridge is unsafe! See! The plank’s gone in the middle—Oh! the careless fellows!”

Having been a boy himself the farrier was prepared for pranks; and the good-natured badinage between Herbert and the young Canadian had aroused no anxiety till now. He had been near enough to hear Herbert’s recital of the Lafayette incident but had merely been amused. Now—Oh! why didn’t they keep to the wide, safe bridge, that wagons used!

Already it was too late even for his warning. Herbert had only meant to catch up the slighter Melvin, scare him by pretending to drop him, but in reality carry him pick-a-pack safely to the further shore. He considered himself an athlete and wished to show “young England how they do things in Yankeeland,” and with a shout he darted forward. Headlong he came to the spot above the water where no foothold was—a space too wide for even his long legs to cover, and all the watchers shivered in fear.

But from his elevation on Herbert’s back, Melvin had already seen the chasm and as if he had been shot from a catapult—he cleared it!

“Hip, hip, hooray! England forever!” yelled Frazer Moore and every other lad in the company added his cheers.

Then Melvin, from his side the chasm, doffed his cap and bowed his graceful acknowledgments for his country’s sake. And at sight of that the girls cheered, too, for Herbert had already regained his feet in that shallow stream and they could see that he had taken no hurt beyond a slight wetting.

“Never mind that. He’ll dry off, same as the twins did,” laughed Molly Breckenridge. Which he did, for the sun was warm and his plunge had been a brief one; and in fact this “little international episode,” as Monty called it, but served to increase the jollity of that day.

Such a day it proved; without cloud or untoward incident to mar its happiness; and as they wandered here and there, inspecting for the last time the historical spot which had given them hospitable shelter, none dreamed of any mishap to come. Even the twins were tired enough to behave with uncommon docility, beyond continually removing from one another the ribbon which should have designated Ananias from Sapphira.

“They’ve changed it so often I’ve really forgotten which is which, but I’m sure—that is I think—I’m really positive—that the hair with a kink belongs to Sapphira! After all, that isn’t such a dreadful name when you say it softly,” said Molly.

“I think this is the loveliest old house I ever saw. I’d just like to stay here forever, seems if. The funny roof, so high up in front and away down, low almost as the ground behind. The great chimney—think of standing in a chimney so big you can look straight up, clear through to the sky!” murmured studious Jane Potter.

“’Tisn’t as big as the Newburgh one, and they haven’t any such Hessian boots, though it does have a secret staircase and chamber,” answered Jim who, also, was greatly interested in the ancient building. “But come on, Janie; they’re getting ready to leave.”

“In just a minute. Just one single minute, ’cause I shan’t ever likely come here again, even if I do live so near it as our mountain.”

Home through the twilight they drove, for kindly Seth couldn’t abridge for his beloved young folks that long, delightful day; and they were ready to declare, most of them, that even the circus to come could hardly be more enjoyable than this day’s “Headquartering” had been.

It was then, on that happy return, that Dorothy had found the telegram awaiting, and had caught it up with a loving thought of her indulgent Aunt Betty. Then her happiness dashed as by cold water she had flown out of the room and shut herself in her pretty chamber to cry and feel herself the most unhappy girl in all the world.

Twice had Norah come to her door to summon her to supper before she felt composed enough to go below among her guests.

Over and over she assured herself that none of them should ever know how badly she had been treated. Nobody, of course, except Alfaretta, and the first thing that girl would be sure to ask would be:

“Have you caught your hare?” In other words: “Did she send the money?”

But in this she did poor Alfy great injustice. It had needed but one glance to tell her—being in the secret—what sort of an answer had come to Dorothy by way of that unexplained yellow envelope. Well, it was too bad! After all, Mrs. Betty Calvert must be a terribly stingy old woman not to give all the money she wanted to her new-found, or new-acknowledged great niece! Huh! She was awful sorry for Dolly Doodles, to have to belong to just—great aunts! She’d rather have Ma Babcock, a thousand times over, than a rich old creature like Dolly had to live with. She would so!

Therefore it was not at all of news from town that warm-hearted Alfaretta inquired, as Dorothy at last appeared in the supper room, but with an indifferent glance around:

“Why, where’s Jane Potter?”