“Sitting on the fence just outside of the barn.” “Dear me, I wish he would come! Well, Katherine, we shall have to do it ourselves. A boy can be so useful, and it does seem provoking to have one right in the family and not be able to turn him to account. I will hold the step-ladder while you go up. Isn’t it horrid to have to do all this ourselves? I do miss the servants dreadfully.” The girls were hanging the parlor curtains for the first time in their lives. “They are going to look horribly, too,” said Katherine. “I really think it would pay, Honor, to have a man come up from Fordham and do it. It wouldn’t cost much.” “It would cost more than we have got at present,” replied Honor. “No,” she added a little drearily after a moment’s silence, “we’ve got to learn to do these things ourselves. Other people do, and there is no reason why we shouldn’t. Be careful, Katherine. You’re putting that ever so much higher on the right than you did on the left.” In the meantime Sophy returned once more to the barn. She found that Peter had not moved from his position upon the fence, and as far as she could judge he was still in “one of his moods.” When he saw Sophy approaching for the fourth time, he fixed his gaze yet more intently upon the river, which gleamed beyond the tall pine trees in the grove. Sophy was a small and slenderly built child of eight. The fact that she was so much younger than her sisters had perhaps caused her to be considered the baby of the family longer than would otherwise have been the case. She was not a pretty child, for her eyes were too large and staring for the small thin face, and the temporary absence of two of her front teeth gave her a grotesque expression. Her hair, which was straight, had been cut short for the sake of convenience, and her cheeks were pale for those of a country child. Sophy adored her only brother with all the ardor of her childish heart. She considered him the tallest, the strongest, and the handsomest boy in all the town of Fordham, or Boston either, for that matter, and she was his willing slave at all times—a state of affairs which Peter was not slow to recognize and of which he availed himself on every possible occasion. When Peter was “in one of his moods” he was to Sophy more fascinating than ever. She hung near him, wondering what was the matter, what troublesome thoughts were thronging his brain, and whether it would be possible to offer him any help. She longed to comfort him on these occasions, but never knew how to do it. This afternoon she seated herself upon a convenient rock and leaned her chin upon her hand, her great brown eyes fastened upon her brother, who was perched upon the fence rail. Peter at first paid no attention to her presence. Then he stirred uneasily. He turned and looked at her, and then looked quickly away again. The stare of those big brown eyes was so unflinching. “I wish you would go away,” said he at last. “Why?” asked Sophy.