“Well, you’re going to get him, and I’m not going out in this storm when there’s no reason for it. Mr. Abbott is coming this afternoon.” “Why, Peter, how do you know?” “A telegram came from him this morning. I was at the station when it came, and the operator read it off to me while it was coming, as he said it was to us. I’m going to learn telegraphy some day. It must be lots of fun to read all the messages and know what everybody is telegraphing about.” He was searching in his pockets as he spoke. “I must have left it down at the barn, but it was only to say he was coming on the two-twenty train. I’ll get it when I go down to give the rabbits their dinner.” “I don’t think there ever was such a provoking boy as you!” exclaimed Honor, lying back upon the sofa, quite exhausted by her brief moment of activity in writing the telegram. “If you only could have told us this before!” “You didn’t ask me, and you didn’t give me a chance, either,” responded Peter. “And now I wish you’d tell me something. What is all this fuss about, and what do you want Mr. Abbott for? What kind of a shindy has the war-horse been cutting up?” “She says that you children are to go to boarding-school, and that Honor and I are to go live with her,” replied Katherine. Peter gave a long, low whistle and stared at the fire. “Are you going to?” asked he. “Not if we can help it,” was the reply. “Good for you! Neither am I. Go to boarding-school! Live with Aunt Sophia! Whew!” And the five sat there in silence for a few moments, while the wind blew and the rain poured down without, and their Aunt Sophia was being borne rapidly back to Boston in the train, satisfied that she had accomplished her object and had done her duty, and that even now her nieces had begun to make ready for their flight from the old home. The Starrs had lived at Glen Arden all their lives. They were all born in the old house, as had been also their father and their grandfather. So had their Aunt Sophia, as to that matter; but apparently her early marriage had counteracted the effect of old associations. She had no time to give to sentiment, and she considered that a home on Beacon Street would amply compensate her brother’s children for whatever they should be forced to forego. She was sorry for them, it is true, but her sympathy was somewhat diluted by the reflection that she had always said that her brother and her brother’s wife were extravagant. The state of the family finances at present only went to prove the truth of this statement, and she was more than convinced that Katherine had inherited the expensive tastes of her parents. Fifteen dollars for a handglass! Mrs. Wentworth Ward bristled with indignation at the thought of it.