There was one girl who always laughed good-humoredly at Emily's grumbling, and she was none other than charming Eleanor Hill. However, she had less cause to complain, for while Emily went from her winter home in one little country town to sleepier Hetherford for the summer months, Miss Hill for more than half of every year led the gayest of lives in New York. When June came with its warm sunshine and long days, she and her mother gladly turned their face toward pretty, dreamy Hetherford; to them the dearest spot in the world. Mollie Andrews said that, for her part, she didn't care. Taking it all in all, she did not see but that they had a pretty good time. The Andrews had been coming to Hetherford for years, and were all deeply attached to the place; Mollie's handsome, scatterbrained brother Dick had set the seal of his approval on their choice of a summer resort, and thenceforth Mollie would have deemed it nothing short of heresy to call the place stupid. To be sure, Dick rarely turned up oftener than once a week, but then her cousin Clifford Archer, nicknamed "the fatal beauty," was wont to put in an appearance for a few days, frequently with his great chum Wendell Churchill, whose yacht was quite a familiar object in Hetherford Harbor. "It is perfectly absurd of Emily," Mollie would end, with a toss of her head. Emily always looked scornful, and Nan Birdsall, happy-go-lucky Nan, who rarely went away from Hetherford, would laugh gleefully. "Poor Em," she exclaimed one evening, after one of her cousin's tirades, "you are man-crazy. Never mind, dear; you wait. I know a thing or two, and by and by when my ship comes in," looking around at the girls, with a mischievous twinkle in her eye, "you will be surprised. Perhaps we will have more men here than we have bargained for." "What do you mean, Nan?" they cried in chorus; but not a bit of satisfaction would Nan give them. The parsonage adjoined the manor, and an opening in the hedge made intercourse between the two families an easy matter. Just across the road was the inn, where all the summer visitors stayed, and a quainter retreat could not be imagined. They formed only a small circle of people, but many were the happy times they had together. CHAPTER II. NAN'S SHIP ARRIVES. "I wonder why we couldn't have a swim this morning, Jean?" Nathalie stood before her mirror, arranging her pretty brown tresses which, in spite of vigorous efforts with brush and comb, would curl, and refuse to be orderly. "Of course, Aunt Helen will say it is too early in the season." "Well, I think that is absurd. It is warm enough. 'Afric's sunny clime' is not a circumstance to it. Look out, Jean, at the sunlight on the lawn. When it has that pinkish tinge, you may be sure it's hot." Jean peeped through the half-open shutters. "Oh! what a sweet day. Yes, it is going to be hot, and, unless Aunt Helen objects seriously, we will surely go in."