There had been a shower the night before and the dust was laid. They went over Second Street to the East River, where one or two blocks were quite given over to colored people. There was an African M. E. church, that the little girl was very curious to see. Folks said in revival times they danced for joy. Crowds used to go to hear the singing. "But do they dance?" asked the little girl wonderingly. She couldn't quite reconcile it with the gravity of worship. "They simply march up and down the aisles keeping time to the tunes. Well--the Shakers dance in the same fashion." Stephen had been up to Lebanon. Then a little farther on was another Methodist church, where several notable lights had preached. Nearer the river were some queer old houses, and at almost every corner a store. Saloons were a rarity. Over yonder was Williamsburg, up a little farther Astoria, just a place of country greenery. There were a few boats going up and down, and the ferry-boats crossing. The houses were no longer in rows. There were some vegetable gardens, and German women were weeding in them; then tracts of rather rocky land, wild and unimproved. After a while it began to grow more diversified and beautiful--country residences and well-kept grounds full of shrubbery at the front and vegetables in the rear, with barns and stables, betraying a rural aspect. The air was so sweet and fresh. "Oh!" exclaimed Margaret, "Annette Beekman must live somewhere about here. I promised her we would come up some day." Stephen turned into a country road. There were many grand old elms, hemlocks, pines, and fruit-trees as well. A table stood under one, and some ladies were sitting there sewing and chatting, while several children ran about. And while they were glancing at them a girl in a pretty blue muslin sprang up and ran down to the wide-open gate. "Oh, Margaret!" cried Annette Beekman. "Why, this is lovely of you, Stephen! Can't you turn in and stop a while with us?" "I'm showing Margaret New York," said Steve, with his pleasant laugh. "She has begun to think straight down to Rutgers Institute comprised every bit there was of it." "Oh, Stephen!" deprecatingly. Some one else came out; a fair, tall girl with great braids of flaxen hair and a silver comb in the top to make her look taller still. She smiled very sweetly. "Oh, Mr. Underhill!" she exclaimed. "This is my big sister and this is my little one," explained Stephen. "And this," to Margaret, "is Miss Dolly Beekman." A warm color rose in Margaret's cheeks as a half-suspicion stole over her. "You must get out and rest a while after this long ride," said Miss Dolly with winsome cordiality. "The rain last evening was delightful, but the day is warm. We are all living out-of-doors, as you see. And this, I suppose, is your little sister? Drive up and help the girls out, and then go round to the barn. You will find some one there."