One afternoon, Dorothy sat on the front veranda, day-dreaming.

It was difficult to say which was the front veranda,—the one that faced the road, or the one that looked out on the lake. The house could be considered to front either way.

But Dorothy was on the veranda that faced the road, and it was a lovely warm, hazy day, almost the last of June, and notwithstanding her responsibilities, Dorothy was in a happy frame of mind.

She watched with interest, a carriage that was coming along the road towards her. It was nothing unusual in the way of a carriage, but there was so little passing, that anything on four wheels was always noticeable. This was a buggy, and contained a lady and gentleman who seemed to be driving slowly and talking fast.

To Dorothy's surprise, when they reached the entrance of the Dorrance Domain, they turned in, and drove up towards the house.

As they stopped in front of the steps, Dorothy rose to greet them; but though courteous in manner, beyond bestowing a pleasant smile, they took no notice of her. The gentleman got out first, then helped the lady out, and after a blank look around for a moment, as if expecting somebody, he threw his lines carelessly around the whip and escorted the lady into the house.

The doors were all open as usual, and Dorothy was so amazed to see them walk past her, that she said nothing.

Grandma Dorrance was lying down in her room; the twins had gone out rowing, and Fairy was down at the dock with Mr. Hickox, fishing.

The two servants were far away in the kitchen, and so the strangers walked through the great hall and out on the west veranda without seeing anybody.

Nonplussed, they returned to the office, and noted the unused look of the desks and counters there.

"Where do you suppose the clerk can be?" said the gentleman.

"Let us ask that young girl on the veranda," said the lady, and together they returned to where Dorothy was sitting.

"Excuse me," said the strange gentleman, "but can you tell me where I may find the clerk of this hotel?"

"There isn't any clerk," said Dorothy, smiling, as she rose to greet them.

"Then will you tell me where I can find the proprietor?"

Like a flash, an inspiration came to Dorothy. She realized in an instant that these people were looking for board; and equally quickly came the thought that she might take them to board, and so earn some of the money that she had been worrying about. It would certainly be no more difficult to have boarders than visitors.

And so, on the impulse of the moment, Dorothy replied:

"I am the proprietor."

"But I mean the proprietor of the hotel,—the owner of the place."

"My grandmother is the owner of this hotel; and if anybody is proprietor of it, I am. May I ask if you are looking for board?"

"Yes, we are," said the lady, impulsively; "and if you are the proprietor, I'm quite sure we want board at this hotel."

"Will you sit down, and let us talk this matter over," said Dorothy, offering them veranda chairs. "I would like to explain just how things are."

The strangers seated themselves, and looked at Dorothy with some curiosity and a great deal of interest. It was certainly unusual to come across a pretty girl of sixteen, who, in her ruffled lawn frock looked quite like the typical guest of a summer hotel, and then to be calmly told that she was the proprietor.

Dorothy also looked with interest at her visitors. The man was tall and large, of perhaps middle age; his face was kind and serious, but a smile seemed to lurk in his deep blue eyes. The lady seemed to be younger, and was very pretty and vivacious. She had curly brown hair, and her brown eyes fairly danced with fun at the idea of Dorothy as a hotel proprietor.

"You see," said Dorothy, as they all sat down, "this hotel is my grandmother's property; but as we couldn't rent it, we have all come here to live for the summer. My grandmother is quite old, and not at all strong, so the household management is entirely in my charge. I would be very glad to take some boarders if I could satisfy them and make them comfortable. I have never kept boarders, but," and here Dorothy's smile brought out all her dimples, "I have entertained company successfully."

"I should be delighted to come," exclaimed the lady, "if you are quite sure you want us, and if your grandmother would not object."

"Oh, no, she would not object; the question is, whether I could make your stay satisfactory to you. We have plenty of room; I could promise you a good table and good service. But as there are no other guests, you might be lonely."

"We are not afraid of being lonely," said the gentleman, "for my wife and I are not dependent on the society of other people. But let me introduce myself before going further; I am Mr. James Faulkner, of New York City. Mrs. Faulkner and myself have been staying over at the Horton House, and that hotel is far too gay and noisy to suit our tastes. I'm a scientific man, and like to spend much of my day in quiet study. Mrs. Faulkner, too, likes to be away from society's demands, at least for a season. Therefore I must confess your proposition sounds most attractive, if the minor details can be arranged."

"I am Dorothy Dorrance," Dorothy responded, by way of her own introduction, "and my grandfather was Robert Hampton Dorrance. He has been dead for two years, and he left us this hotel property, which as we have been unable to rent, we decided to occupy. I would be glad to add to our income, and if you think you could be comfortable here, might we not try it for a week?"

"Oh, do let us try it," cried Mrs. Faulkner, eagerly; "do say yes, James,—this is such a lovely spot, and this hotel is quite the most attractive I have seen anywhere. Only fancy having no other guests but ourselves! it would be ideal. Oh, we must certainly come! I will decide it; we will come for a week at any rate."

"Very well, my dear, you shall have your own way. May I ask your rates, Miss Dorrance?"

Dorothy hesitated. She felt very inexperienced, and while she was fearful of over-charging, yet her practical instincts made her also beware of undervaluing the accommodations she knew she could supply.

"I don't know," she said, frankly, "what I ought to charge you. But you may have the best rooms in the house, and,"—here she smiled, involuntarily,—"as many of them as you wish. We have a really superior cook, and an experienced waitress. We have boats, and a horse and carriage, which you may use when you care to. As I know nothing of summer hotel charges, I would be glad if you would tell me what you think would be right for you to pay."

Dorothy's frank honesty, and her gentle refined courtesy made a most favorable impression on Mr. Faulkner, and he responded cordially.

"For what you offer, Miss Dorrance, I think it would be fair if we should pay you the same as we are now paying over at the Horton House; that is, fifteen dollars a week, each, for Mrs. Faulkner and myself."

Dorothy considered a moment. She was a quick thinker, and she realized that this amount of money would help considerably towards the living expenses of the family. And the price could not be exorbitant since Mr. Faulkner offered it himself.

"That will be entirely satisfactory to me," she said, "and I shall hope, on my part, to satisfy you. When would you like to come?"

"I'd like to come to-morrow," said Mrs. Faulkner. "I've stood the Horton House just as long as I can. And our week is up to-morrow. But, excuse me, my dear, aren't you very young for these responsibilities?"

"I'm sixteen," said Dorothy, "and grandmother thinks my talents are of the domestic order. But I could not undertake to have you here were it not that our cook is not merely a cook, but a general manager and all-round housekeeper. And now, Mrs. Faulkner, if you really think of coming, wouldn't you like to select your rooms?"

Just at this moment, Fairy came flying through the long hall at her usual break-neck pace, and landed turbulently in the midst of the group.

"Oh, Dorothy," she cried, "we caught fish, and fish, and fish!"

"This is my sister Fairy," said Dorothy, "and I must explain, that when I said it would be quiet here, I neglected to mention that there are four of us children; and the truth is we are dreadfully noisy at times. Fairy, dear, this is Mr. and Mrs. Faulkner, who are perhaps coming to board with us."

With the pretty politeness that always underlay the boisterousness of the Dorrances, Fairy put out her hand to the strangers, saying: "I'm very glad to see you. Are you really coming to stay with us? You must 'scuse me for rushing out like that, and nearly knocking you over, but I was so 'cited about my fish."

Fairy always looked more than usually fairy-like when she was excited. Her gold curls tumbled about her face, and the big white bow which topped them stood at all sorts of flyaway angles. She poised herself on one foot, and waved her hands dramatically as she talked.

Mrs. Faulkner was charmed with the child, and being possessed of some artistic ability, she privately resolved to make a sketch of Fairy at the first opportunity.

The two sisters escorted the guests through the hall, if Fairy's hop, skip and jump could be called an escort, and Dorothy showed them the lake view from the west piazza.

Mrs. Faulkner was enthusiastic over this, and declared that nothing would induce her to stay anywhere else but at the Dorrance Domain.

Mr. Faulkner, too, was impressed by the beauty of the lake. It was always most picturesque in the late afternoon, and just now the clouds, lit up by the western sun, were especially beautiful. The lake itself was not calm, but was covered with smooth little hills of water, which here and there broke into white foam.

Some distance out, a boat could be seen, containing two people.

"That's my brother and sister," said Dorothy; "they are twins. They are fourteen, and are perhaps the noisiest of us all. You see," she went on, smiling, "I'm preparing you for the worst. Grandmother had great difficulty with the New York boarding-house keepers, because they thought the Dorrance children too lively. So I want you to be fully warned that we do make a great deal of noise. Somehow we can't help it."

"We don't yell so much as we used to," said Fairy, hopefully; "you see, Mrs. Faulkner, when we used to be cooped up in a boarding-house we just had to make an awful racket, 'cause we were so miserabubble. But here we have room enough to scamper around, and so we don't holler so much."

"I rather think we can survive your demonstrations of animal spirits," said Mr. Faulkner, with his kindly smile. "It will be a pleasant relief from the brass band which is the noise-producer over at the Horton House."

"We haven't any brass band," said Dorothy, suddenly realizing that they lacked many things popularly supposed to belong to a summer hotel.

"That's one reason why I want to come," said Mrs. Faulkner.

"I hope you will decide to come," said Dorothy; "and now, if you will excuse me a minute, I think I will ask my grandmother to come down and sanction our plan."

Leaving the strangers to be entertained by Fairy, Dorothy ran up to her grandmother's room and tapped at the door.

A few moments served to explain matters to Mrs. Dorrance, and though a little bewildered by Dorothy's sudden proposal, she thought the plan a good one, and went down prepared to give the strangers a cordial reception.

The Faulkners were much pleased with the gentle, gracious old lady, and Mrs. Dorrance decided at a glance that the newcomers were sensible and kindly people.