Fairy continued her weekly visits to Mrs. Hickox, but she was positively forbidden by her hostess ever to bring any one with her.

Mrs. Hickox was possessed of a peculiar kind of shyness, and she shrank from meeting people more sophisticated than herself. She had become devotedly attached to Fairy, and really looked forward eagerly to the afternoons the child spent with her. She continued to be surprised at the doings of the Dorrances, but had never been to the Domain since her first call upon the family.

"Mr. Hickox tells me you've got a roof-garden," she said to Fairy one day, as they sat sociably in the milk-room. "Now for the land's sake do tell me what that is. Is it the thing that runs by electrics?"

"No," said Fairy, who never laughed at Mrs. Hickox's ignorance; "it's the Shooting Star that runs by electricity; the roof-garden doesn't run at all,—it just stays still."

"Well what is it, anyhow?"

"Why, the roof-garden is just a garden on the roof."

"A garden on a roof! well I am surprised! What do you raise in the garden? peas and beans? It must be an awful trouble to get the dirt up there, and to get the water up there to water things with. As for getting the potatoes and pumpkins down, I suppose you can just throw them down,—though I must say I should think it would spoil the pumpkins."

"Oh, we don't raise vegetables in the roof-garden, Mrs. Hickox," said Fairy, laughing in spite of herself.

"Well, what do you raise?"

"Why we don't raise anything; we just stay there."

"Humph! I can't see any garden about that. But I did want to know what the thing was like. 'Cause I cut out a clipping yesterday,—Hickory, he got his shoes home from the cobbler's, and they was wrapped in a piece of a New York newspaper; my, but I had a good time! I cut so many clippings out of that newspaper, that what's left would do for a picture frame. The worst of it was, so many clippings backed up against others, and they wasn't the same length. People ought to be more careful how they print their newspapers. Well, as I was saying, I cut out a piece about a roof-garden, but I guess you're right about their not raisin' things in it. My land! I couldn't get head or tail to the whole yarn. So that's why I wanted to ask you just what a roof-garden is. But I ain't found out much."

Fairy endeavored to explain further, but Mrs. Hickox's mind seemed incapable of grasping the real intent of a roof-garden, after all; and so after intimating her continued surprise, she changed the subject.

Mrs. Hickox was the only one who could sustain the greater part in a conversation with Fairy. For some reason the child liked the queer old lady, and was contented to listen while she talked; though usually Fairy's own loquacity was not so easily curbed.

"I told Hickory, long ago, that that biggest sister of yours would set Lake Ponetcong on fire yet; or he told me, I don't know which, and it don't make no difference now; but, anyway, I'm free to confess she's done it. To think of a girl of sixteen takin' a pack of boarders into that big hotel, and makin' a success of it! It is surprisin'! and she does everything up so slick, too. Why, Hickory says the meals is always on time, and the whole place is always as neat and cleared-up lookin' as my best room."

"My sister Dorothy is a smart girl," agreed Fairy, who was always ready to stand up for her family; "Mr. Faulkner says she has great 'zecutive billerty,—and I guess she has."

"You all have," said Mrs. Hickox, heartily. "You're as queer as Dick's hatband,—every one of you,—but you're smarter 'n steel-traps. And the rest of you work just as good as Dorothy does. You ain't none of you shirks. Of course you have lots of help, but I s'pose you need it. Hickory, he does a lot of work for you, but, land! he gets paid enough, so it's all right."

"Wouldn't you like to come over and see the roof-garden?" asked Fairy, though without much hope that her invitation would be accepted.

"No, child, no; I ain't got no use for new-fangled doin's. My old-fashioned garden is good enough for me. I like to read about things in newspapers, but I don't hanker none about being mixed up in 'em. Run along now, here comes Mr. Hickox and he'll be wantin' his supper. Run along, quick now,—good-bye. Well I am surprised!"

The last remark was addressed to the approaching Mr. Hickox, but having been so peremptorily dismissed, Fairy did not turn to see what the new occasion for Mrs. Hickox's surprise might be.

The month of August went pleasantly along at the Dorrance Domain. No new boarders were registered, but all who were there, stayed through the month, and all except the Blacks stayed into the early September. The Dorrances had given up all idea of Mr. Lloyd's coming to visit them, as he had written earlier in the season that he would do.

But one day a letter came, saying that he would run up for a couple of days.

Aside from their appreciation of Mr. Lloyd's kindness in a business way, the Dorrances all liked that genial gentleman as a friend, and the news of his visit was gladly received. The Dorrance Domain was put into gala dress for the occasion, and a special program was arranged for the evening's entertainment.

He was taken for a sail in the Shooting Star, given a drive behind old Dobbin, and initiated into the picturesque pleasures of the roof-garden.

Mr. Lloyd was most appreciative and enthusiastic; and it was fun for the Dorrances to see his astonishment at the success of their hotel management. Although Grandma Dorrance had written to him what the children were doing, in a general way, he had formed no idea of the magnitude of their enterprise.

The second day of his stay they held a family conference in one of the small parlors. He had told Grandma Dorrance that he wished for a business talk with her alone, but she had said that the children were quite as capable of understanding their financial situation as she herself, if not more so; and that, after their interest and assistance through the summer, they were entitled to a hearing of whatever Mr. Lloyd might have to say.

So the family conclave was called, and Mr. Lloyd took the occasion to express his hearty appreciation of what they had done.

"You seem to have the Dorrance grit," he said; "your Grandfather Dorrance would have been proud of his grandchildren, could he have known what they would accomplish. He little thought when he bought this hotel property that his family would ever live here,—let alone running it as a hotel."

"It seems so strange," said Dorothy, "to think that this old Domain that we've made fun of for so many years, and never thought was good for anything, should have helped us through this summer."

"I hope, my dear," said Mr. Lloyd, "that you have been careful and prudent about your expenditures. For sometimes, these exciting enterprises look very fine and desirable, but are exceedingly costly in the end."

Mr. Lloyd was a kind friend, and felt great interest in the Dorrance fortunes; but his cautious, legal mind, could not avoid a careful consideration of the exact state of their finances.

"We have kept our accounts very strictly, sir," said Dorothy, "and we find that the Dorrance Domain has entirely supported our family for the summer,—I mean that we are in debt to nobody as a consequence of having spent our summer here."

"That is fine, my dear child, that is fine," said Mr. Lloyd, rubbing his hands together, as he always did when pleased; "I must congratulate you on that result."

"And we've had such fun, too," exclaimed Fairy, whose big white bow and smiling face suddenly appeared over the back of the sofa which she was clambering up. "I do some of the work, but I don't mind it a bit, and we all of us get plenty of time to play, and go sailing, and fishing and everything." As Fairy continued talking she kept rapidly scrambling over the sofa, down to the floor, under the sofa, and up its back, and over it again, repeatedly. This in no way interfered with her flow of conversation, and she went on: "We can make all the racket we like, too,—nobody minds a speck,—not even Miss Marcia Van Arsdale. She says it's nothing but animal spiritualism."

"It has been one of the greatest comforts," said Grandma Dorrance, "to think that the children could make all the noise they wanted to; for I suffered tortures at Mrs. Cooper's, trying to keep them quiet. Here, they are free to do as they choose, and there is room enough to do as they choose, without annoying other people. I think myself, that they deserve great commendation for their work this summer. It has not been easy; but fortunately, they are blessed with temperaments that take troubles lightly, and make play out of hard work. But I want you to tell us, Mr. Lloyd, just how we stand financially. The children are anxious to know, and so am I. They insist that hereafter they shall share my anxieties and responsibilities, and I am more than glad to have them do so."

"I am gratified, Mrs. Dorrance, and my dear young people, to be able to tell you,"—here Mr. Lloyd paused impressively,—"to be able to tell you that the outlook is highly satisfactory. Since you have not called upon me for any of your money during the summer months, I have been able to apply it towards the repairs that were so necessary on the Fifty-eighth Street house. Except for a few small bills, that indebtedness is thus provided for. Your next quarter's allowance is, therefore, unencumbered."

"I think," said Dorothy, her eyes shining in the excitement of the moment, "that this is a good time to present our statement of accounts. We've been keeping it as a little surprise for grandma, and we want Mr. Lloyd to know about it too. I wanted Leicester to tell you, and he said for me to tell you; but we all had just as much to do with it as each other, so we're all going to tell you together. Come on, all of you."

The other three Dorrances sprang towards Dorothy in their usual hop-skip-and-jump fashion, and in a moment they stood in a straight line, toeing a mark.

They took hold of hands, and swinging their arms back and forth, recited a speech which had evidently been rehearsed before-hand.

"We've paid all expenses," they said, speaking in concert, but not as loudly as usual, "and besides that, we've cleared three hundred dollars!"

"What!" exclaimed Mr. Lloyd, holding up his hands in astonishment.

"Oh, my dear children!" cried Grandma Dorrance, uncertain whether she should laugh or weep.

"Yes, isn't it perfectly wonderful?" cried Dorothy, and the concerted speech being over, the four children precipitated themselves headlong in every direction.

"We wanted to holler it all out," explained Fairy; "but we were afraid the boarder-people would hear us, and they mightn't think it polite."

"It's all right," said Lilian, stoutly; "we didn't overcharge anybody, and we didn't scrimp them. The reason we made money was because we did so much of the work ourselves, and because Dorothy is such a good manager."

"Hurrah for Dorothy," shrieked Leicester, in a perfect imitation of Miss Marcia's parrot.

The cheer that went up for Dorothy was deafening, but nobody minded, for everybody was so happy.

"I couldn't have done anything without the others' help," protested Dorothy; "and of course we couldn't any of us have carried out this plan at all, without grandma. So you see it took the whole five of us to make a success of the Dorrance Domain."

"Hurrah for the Dorrance Domain," shouted Fairy, and then every one in the room, not excepting Grandma Dorrance and Mr. Lloyd, cheered from their very hearts,

"Hurrah for the Dorrance Domain!"