The week at the Dorrance Domain passed all too quickly, in the opinion of the happy young people.

There was so much to do, and every day seemed to bring new pleasures. The weather was of the most beautiful June variety, and the lake was as smooth as glass and most pleasant to ride upon.

One day they all went out in rowboats, and called themselves a regatta. Another day, Captain Kane took them all for a sail in the Mamie Mead.

But perhaps the nicest outing of all, was the day they had a picnic on the floating bridge. They carried their luncheon, and camped out on the bridge to eat it. Mr. Bill Hodges was delighted to grant them permission to do this, and brought them some fruit from his store as an addition to their feast.

"It's the strangest thing," said Edith Putnam, "to be on the land and on the water at the same time. Here we are, sitting on what seems to be good solid grass and earth; and yet if you dug a hole in it, you'd strike the lake right away."

"You'd strike logs first," corrected Jack Harris; "but if you bored through the logs you'd come to the water."

"It's perfectly lovely to feel the little swaying motion," said May Lewis, who in her quiet way was greatly enjoying the novel experiences. "I shall hate to go back to the city. How I envy you, Lilian, with a whole summer of this before you."

"But you're going away with your mother, next month, aren't you?"

"Yes; but we'll be cooped up in one or two little rooms at some seashore place; it is very different from having a whole hotel all to yourself."

"Indeed it is," said Dorothy; "we certainly did the wisest thing when we came up here this summer. And now that Kathleen is here, I have almost nothing to do in the kitchen, and the rest of the housework that I do have to look after is so light that I don't mind it a bit."

"That's because you're so clever," said Edith, sighing; "you're systematic and orderly, and have everything arranged just so. I don't see how you do it. I should forget half the things, and get the other half all mixed up."

"I believe you would," said Dorothy, laughing. "And I did get somewhat mixed up at first. But I learned by experience, and besides I was just determined that I would succeed. Because I proposed the whole scheme, and of course, I wanted it to be a success."

"And it is a success," returned Edith; "and you have made it so. You have lots of perseverance in your nature, Dorothy."

"It's nice of you to call it by that name," said Dorothy; "but I think it's just stubbornness. I've always been stubborn."

"We all are," said Leicester; "it's a Dorrance trait. Grandmother hasn't much of it, but Grandfather Dorrance was a most determined old gentleman."

"There's only one thing that's bothering me, about our good times," said Dorothy. "And that is, that grandma can't enjoy them as much as we do. She doesn't care about going in the boats, and she can't take the long walks that we can."

"It would be nice if you had a horse," said May; "then she could go for a drive sometimes."

"That would be lovely," agreed Dorothy; "but I know we couldn't afford to buy a horse. We haven't very much money. That's the main reason we came up here, because grandma said we couldn't afford to go to the places we used to go to."

"But you might hire a horse," suggested Jack; "you have a barn."

"Yes, there is a small barn," said Leicester. "I think it would be great to hire a horse; that wouldn't cost much, Dot."

"No," said Dorothy, "I don't believe it would. But who'd take care of the horse, and who'd drive grandma around?"

"Why, I can drive," said Leicester, "or if grandma wouldn't trust me, Mr. Hickox could drive her. He could take care of the horse, too."

"It's a good idea," said Dorothy; "let's go and ask Mr. Hodges about it now; he always knows about things of that sort."

The whole crowd scrambled to their feet, and ran gaily towards Mr. Hodges' place. They were not surprised, when he declared he had just the thing for them. A fat, amiable old horse, who was well accustomed to the steep mountain roads, and guaranteed perfectly safe; also a light road-wagon that would hold four, and that was very easy and comfortable. He would rent them this turn-out for ten dollars a week, and he declared that they would find it most convenient; not only for pleasure drives, but for going to market or other errands. Indeed, he said, that the proprietor who had last tried to run the hotel, had engaged that horse for the season.

It struck Dorothy as a good plan; and being always quick at decisions, she agreed then and there to take the horse and carriage for a week, saying she felt sure that Grandma Dorrance would approve.

Leicester said he would drive it home, and any of the girls who wished to, could go with him, the rest going back in the boats. Dorothy said she would go with him, as she wanted to tell grandma about it herself.

As Fairy expressed a great desire to ride behind the new horse, she and Gladys were tucked in the back seat, and they started off.

Such a ride as it was. The hills were very steep, "perfectly perpendickle," Fairy called them, and if the old horse had not known just how to walk on the mountain roads, accidents might very easily have happened.

As it was they reached home safely, and drove up triumphantly to the Dorrance Domain where grandma and Mrs. Thurston were sitting on the veranda.

As the children had surmised, grandma was delighted with the opportunity to drive about, but said that she would feel safer if Mr. Hickox held the reins.

As Mr. Hickox was never very far away, he had observed the horse's arrival, and came over to inquire into the matter.

The explanation pleased him, and he said amiably, "Don't worry. Hickox'll look after the horse; it'll be all right."

So Grandma Dorrance arranged with Mr. Hickox, by an addition to the payment they made him for his various services, to take care of the horse, and to drive them whenever they might require him to. Then she and Mrs. Thurston planned to go for a drive that very afternoon.

As the Dorrance children were fond of all animals, the horse at once became a great pet, and though the elder ladies never went out except with Mr. Hickox, the young people went early and often, and both Dorothy and Leicester soon learned to be good and careful drivers.

With another diversion added to their catalogue of pleasures, the days flew by faster than ever, and although the guests stayed a fortnight instead of only a week, everybody was sorry when the day came for them to depart.

"It has been all pleasure," said Dorothy, "and not a bit of trouble; for you all made yourselves so handy and helpful that it was just like one big family."

"It has been a great treat to me," said Mrs. Thurston. "I have enjoyed every minute of it, and I have improved wonderfully in health and strength. I think you are a wonder, Dorothy; not many girls of sixteen have your powers of management. It is a gift, just as other talents are, and you not only possess it, but you have appreciated and improved it."

Dorothy blushed at Mrs. Thurston's kind praise, and inwardly resolved, that since Mrs. Thurston considered her household capability a talent, she certainly would endeavor to cultivate and improve it.

So the guests all went away, except Kathleen.

She begged so hard to be allowed to stay for a time longer, that Mrs. Dorrance consented.

"Shure, it isn't the wages I do be afther wantin', mum, but I likes to shtay here, an' I'll do all the wurruk for me boord."

This seemed a fair arrangement, as Kathleen really wanted to stay with her daughter, and the Dorrances were very glad of the big woman's services. She was an indefatigable worker, and really seemed to enjoy all sorts of hard work. She would rise early in the morning, and wash windows or scrub floors before breakfast time. She was so capable and willing, that it seemed as if she fairly took charge of the entire family; and she was so large and strong that no hard work baffled her, and no exertion tired her.

Although the Dorrances naturally missed their guests, yet when they were alone again they were by no means lonely. They were a host in themselves; the children were congenial and thought there was nobody quite so nice as each other.

The days went by happily, and each one only made them more glad that they owned the Dorrance Domain and that they had come to live in it.

It was the third week in June when Grandma Dorrance received a letter from Mr. Lloyd, the contents of which were far from pleasant.

She called the children together in the great parlor, which they had come to use as a living-room, and her pale face quite frightened Dorothy.

"What is the matter, grannymother dear?" she said. "Has Mr. Lloyd found some one who wants to rent the hotel, and must we vacate at once?"

"Oh, don't mention such a calamity as that," cried Leicester; "if a man came up here to rent this hotel I should tell him to march right straight back again. The house is engaged for the season."

"It's far worse than that, children dear," said grandma; "Mr. Lloyd tells me in his letter that a great deal of repairing is necessary in the Fifty-eighth Street house. This will cost a great deal of money, and I have not enough to pay the bills."

Mrs. Dorrance looked so pathetically helpless as she made this admission, that Dorothy flew to her and kissed her, exclaiming, "Don't worry, grandma dear, it must all come out right somehow, for you know we are saving money this summer."

"I'm not so sure of that, Dorothy; I'm afraid we've been rather extravagant of late. Having so much company for a fortnight, was really very expensive; and the horse is an added expense, and the two servants,—and altogether I feel quite sure we have spent more money than we could well afford."

"I never once thought of it, grandma," said Dorothy; "I just ordered the things that I thought it would be nice to have, and I didn't realize how the bills would count up. Are they very big?"

"Yes," said Mrs. Dorrance. "Mr. Hodges' bill is quite three times as much as I had allowed for it; and I owe Mr. Hickox as much more. He has done a great deal of work for us, you know, and of course he must be paid."

"Oh, isn't it dreadful," said Lilian, "to have our lovely summer spoiled by money troubles!"

At this Fairy began to cry. The Dorrances didn't often cry, but when they did, they did it quite as noisily as they did everything else; and Fairy's manner of weeping, was to open her mouth as widely as possible in a succession of loud wails, at the same time digging her fists into her eyes.

She presented such a ridiculous picture that the children couldn't help laughing.

"Do stop that hullaballoo, baby," implored Leicester, "or we'll be so anxious to get rid of you that we'll offer you to Mr. Bill Hodges in settlement of his account."

Fairy was not seriously alarmed by this awful threat, but she stopped crying, because she had suddenly thought of a way out of the difficulty.

"I'll tell you how we can get some money," she said earnestly; "sell the horse!"

The other children laughed at this, but Grandma Dorrance said gently, "We can't do that, dear, for the horse isn't ours. We can't sell the hotel, for nobody seems to want it; so I can't see any way by which we can get any money except to sell the Fifty-eighth Street house."

The children looked aghast at this, for it was their cherished dream some day to return to the big city house to live. They didn't quite know how this was to be accomplished, but they had always thought that when Leicester began to earn money, or perhaps if Dorothy became an author, they would be able to return to the old home.

And so Grandma Dorrance's announcement fell on them like a sudden and unexpected blighting of their hopes.