At six o'clock the family sat down to supper.

Dorothy had a lingering desire to use the great dining-room, but Mrs. Dorrance had persuaded her that it was far more sensible to use the smaller one, and she had pleasantly acquiesced.

Indeed the smaller one was a large apartment, about four times the size of Mrs. Cooper's dining-room. The outlook across the lake was charming, and the room itself prettily decorated and furnished.

Fairy had wanted to use small tables, letting two sit at each table, but again Grandma Dorrance had gently insisted on a family table.

So the small tables had been taken from the room, and a good-sized round dining-table substituted, at which Mrs. Dorrance presided. Leicester sat opposite her, Dorothy on one side, and the two younger girls on the other.

Very attractive the table looked, for the china, glass and plated silverware were all practically new, and of pretty design. Tessie was an experienced and willing waitress; and it is safe to say that the Dorrance family had never before so enjoyed a meal.

Many hands had made light work, and Dorothy's had made light biscuits, and also a delicious omelet. They had strawberry jam and potted cheese, and some sliced boiled ham, all of which they had bought at the grocery shop on the way up.

"It's a sort of pick-up supper," said Dorothy; "but I'm not saying this by way of apology. You will very often have a pick-up supper. Indeed, I think almost always. We're going to have dinner in the middle of the day, because that's the better arrangement in the country."

Just at that moment, nobody seemed to care what the dinner hour might be, so interested were they in the supper under consideration.

"I think pick-ups are lovely," said Fairy, taking a fourth biscuit; "I never tasted anything so good as these biscuits, and I do hope Dorothy'll make them three times a day. They are perfectly deliciorous!"

"You're very flattering," said Dorothy. "But I won't promise to make them three times a day."

"I could eat them six times a day," declared Leicester; "but I don't want Dot to be cooking all the time. What do you think, girls, there are lots of boats of every sort and kind. Shall we go out rowing this evening, or wait till to-morrow?"

"You'll wait till to-morrow," said grandma, quietly.

"All right, grandma," said Leicester; "we'll start to-morrow morning right after breakfast; will you go, too?"

"No, not on your first trip. I may go with you some time later in the season. And I'll tell you now, children, once for all, that I'm going to trust you to go on the lake whenever you choose; with the understanding that you're to be sensible and honorable about it. The lake is very treacherous; and if there is the least doubt about its being safe to venture out, you must ask Mr. Hickox about it, and if he advises you against it, you must not go. Also I trust you to act like reasonable human beings when you are in a boat, and not do foolish or rash things. In a word, I trust you not to get drowned, and somehow I feel sure you won't."

"Good for you, grannymother!" cried Leicester; "you're of the right sort. Why I've known grandmothers who would walk up and down the dock wringing their hands, for fear their geese weren't swans,—no, I guess I mean for fear their chickens weren't ducks. Well, anyhow, it doesn't make any difference; you're the best grandmother in the world, and always will be."

After supper the Dorrances strolled through the hotel, and finally seated themselves in the great parlor.

Fairy plumped herself down in the middle of the floor, and sat cross-legged, with her chin in her hands.

"What's the matter, baby?" asked Leicester; "aren't these satin sofas good enough for you?"

"Yes, but I like to sit in the middle, and then I can look all around. I am just goating over it."

"Goat away; we're all doing the same thing," said Dorothy; "now grandmother, you sit on this sofa; and I'll go 'way down to the other end of the room, and sit on that one, and then we'll holler at each other. It's such a relief not to be cooped up in a little bunch."

The twins seated themselves on opposite sides of the room, and then the conversation was carried on in loud tones, that delighted the hearts of these noise-loving young people.

So merry were they that their laughter quite drowned the sound of the door-bell when it rang, and before they knew it, Tessie was ushering a visitor into the parlor.

The great chandeliers had not been lighted, but the thoughtful Tessie had filled and lighted several side lamps, so they were quite able to see their somewhat eccentric-looking guest. She wore a black silk mantilla of an old-fashioned style; and her bonnet which was loaded with dangling black bugles, was not much more modern. She was a small, thin little woman, with bright, snapping black eyes, and a sharp nose and chin.

"I'm Mrs. Hickox," she said, "and I'm surprised that you people should come to live in this great big hotel."

As Leicester said afterwards, if there had been any doubt as to the lady's identity, they would have felt sure, as soon as she declared her surprise.

"We are glad to see you, Mrs. Hickox," said Grandma Dorrance, rising with her gentle grace, and extending her hand in cordial greeting to her visitor. "Won't you be seated?"

Mrs. Hickox sat down carefully on the edge of one of the chairs.

"I'm surprised," she said, "that you should use this best room so common. Why don't you sit in some of the smaller rooms?"

"We like this," said Grandma Dorrance, quietly. "May I present my grandchildren,—this is Dorothy."

The four were duly introduced, and really behaved remarkably well considering they were choking with laughter at Mrs. Hickox's continual surprises.

"Do you propose to live in the whole house?" asked Mrs. Hickox, after the children had seated themselves a little more decorously than usual.

"Yes," said Mrs. Dorrance, "my grandchildren have been cooped up in small city rooms for so long, that they are glad to have plenty of space to roam around in."

"'Tisn't good for children to be left so free. It makes 'em regular hobbledehoys. Children need lots of training. Now that Dorothy,—my husband tells me she's head of the house. How ridiculous!"

"Perhaps it is ridiculous, Mrs. Hickox," said Dorothy, dimpling and smiling; "but I'm over sixteen, and that's quite a big girl, you know."

"Oh, you're big enough for your age, but there's no sense of your keeping house in a great big hotel like this."

"There's no sense in our doing anything else, Mrs. Hickox," said Leicester, coming to his sister's rescue. "We own this place, and we can't sell it or rent it, so the only thing to do is to live in it."

Mrs. Hickox shook her head until the jets on her bonnet rattled, and the children wondered if she wouldn't shake some of them off.

"No good will come of it," she said. "This hotel has had six proprietors since it was built, and none of them could make it pay."

"But we're not keeping a hotel, Mrs. Hickox," said Grandma Dorrance, smiling; "we're just living here in a modest, unpretentious way, and I think my grandchildren are going to be happy here."

"Well, that's what Mr. Hickox said; but I wouldn't believe him, and I said I'd just come over to see for myself. It seems he was right, and I must say I am surprised."

Mrs. Hickox was a nervous, fidgety woman, and waved her hands about in a continuous flutter. She was all the time picking at her bonnet-strings, or her dress-trimmings, or the fringe of her mantilla. Indeed once she pulled the feather of her bonnet over in front of her eyes and then tossed it back with a satisfied smile. "I often do that," she said, "to make sure it's there. It blew out one night, and I lost it. I found it again and sewed it in tight, but I get worried about it every once in a while. I'm awful fond of dress, and I hope you brought a lot of new patterns up from the city. I've got a new-fangled skirt pattern, but I don't like it because it has the pocket in the back. The idea! I was surprised at that. I like a pocket right at my finger-ends all the time."

As Mrs. Hickox spoke she thrust her five finger-ends in and out of her pocket so rapidly and so many times, that Dorothy felt quite sure she would wear her precious pocket to rags.

"What do you carry in your pocket?" asked Fairy, fascinated by the performance.

"Many things," said Mrs. Hickox, mysteriously; "but mostly newspaper clippings. I tell you there's lots of good things in newspapers; and we have a paper 'most every week, so of course I can cut out a good many. The only trouble, cutting clippings out of a paper does spoil the paper for covering shelves. The papers on my pantry shelves now have had some clippings cut out of them, but I just set piles of plates over the holes. Well, I must be going. I just came over to be sociable. I'm your nearest neighbor, and of course up here in the country neighbors have to be neighborly, but I'm free to confess I don't favor borrowing nor lending. Woodville is nearer you than it is me, and I expect you'll do your trading there."

"Of course we shall, Mrs. Hickox," said Dorothy, flushing a little; "we are not the sort of people who borrow from our neighbors. But Mr. Hickox told us that you sometimes had vegetables and eggs to sell; if that is so, we'd be glad to buy them."

"When I have them, miss, I'll let you know," said Mrs. Hickox, shaking her bugles more violently than ever. "But you needn't come 'round inquiring for them; when I have them I'll let you know."

"Thank you," said Dorothy, who was only amused, and not at all angry at her visitor's hostile attitude.

But Lilian could not so easily control her indignation. "We can get vegetables and eggs at Woodville," she said. "We don't really need any of yours."

"Oh, well, I guess that'll be the least of your troubles," said Mrs. Hickox, edging towards the door, with a restless, jerky gait. "You're lucky if the tank don't burst, or the windmill get out of order, or anything happen that will be really worth worrying over."

By this time Mrs. Hickox had backed out and edged along until she was on the veranda. "Good-bye," she said, awkwardly; "come to see me, when you feel to do so; but I ain't noways set on having company. I like the little one best, though."

This sudden avowal so startled Fairy, that she fell off the newel-post where she had been daintily balancing herself on one foot. As Leicester caught her in his arms, no harm was done, but Mrs. Hickox ejaculated, with a little more force than usual, "Well, I am surprised!"

"That's why I tumbled over," said Fairy, looking intently at Mrs. Hickox, "'cause I was so s'prised that you said you liked me best. If you want me to, I'll come to see you with great pleasure and delight."

"Come once in a while," said Mrs. Hickox, cautiously; "but I don't want you racing there all the time."

"No, I won't race there all the time," said Fairy, seriously. "I'll just race down about once a day. Where do you live?"

"I live in the yellow house,—the first one down the road. But you needn't come more than once a week."

"All right," said Fairy, cheerfully; "we'll make it Wednesdays then. I love to have things to do on Wednesday, 'cause I used to take my music lesson on that day, and it's so lonesome not to have anything special to do."

While Fairy was talking, Mrs. Hickox had shaken hands all around, and had backed down the steps.

"Good-bye," she said, vigorously waving both hands as she went away.

"Well, of all queer people!" exclaimed Dorothy, as they went back to the parlor. "I'm glad we haven't many neighbors, if they're all like that. Mr. Hickox is funny enough, but she's funnier yet."

"We don't care whether we have neighbors or not, we've got the Dorrance Domain," said Leicester; "and that's enough to make us happy, and keep us so."

"So say we all of us," cried Lilian; "the Dorrance Domain forever!"

As usual, this was merely a signal for a series of jubilant hurrahs, and quiet Grandma Dorrance sat on her sofa, and listened contentedly to her happy, if noisy brood.