I shall be so glad to see you again; and oh, Truth, I am so happy, so happy, that, please God, I can keep my child after all! The weary burden of dread is lifted off my heart, and I feel young again. Just think of it! My Elsie will be well and strong once more! It seems too good to be true. Always your attached friend, JANET HOWARD. Mrs. Winship’s voice quivered as she read the last few words, and Polly and Bell threw themselves into each other’s arms and cried for sheer gladness. ‘Come, come, dears! I suppose you will make grand preparations, and there is no time to lose. One of you must find somebody to help Philip unload the team. Papa and the boys have gone fishing, and Laura and Margery went with them, I think.’ And Mrs. Winship bustled about, literally on hospitable thoughts in-tent. Polly tied on her sun-bonnet with determination, turned up her sleeves as if washing were the thing to be done, and placed her arms akimbo. ‘First and foremost,’ said she, her eyes sparkling with excitement, ‘first and foremost, I am going to blow the horn.’ ‘Certainly not,’ said Aunt Truth. ‘Are you crazy, Polly? It is scarcely ten o’clock, and everybody would think it was dinnertime, and come home at once.’ ‘No, they’d think something had happened to Dicky,’ said Bell, ‘and that would bring them in still sooner.’ ‘Of course! I forgot. But can’t I blow it earlier than usual? Can’t I blow it at half-past eleven instead of twelve? We can’t do a thing without the boys, and they may not come home until midnight unless we do something desperate. Oh, delight! There’s Don S. D. M. F. H. N., and Phil has found Pancho to help unload.’ ‘Isn’t it lucky that we decided on the place for Elsie’s tent, and saved it in case she should ever come?’ said Bell. ‘Now Philip and Pancho can set it up whenever they choose. And isn’t it fortunate that we three stayed at home to-day, and refused to fish? now we can plan everything, and then all work together when they come back.’ Meanwhile Polly was tugging at an immense bundle, literally tooth and nail, as she alternated trembling clutches of the fingers with frantic bites at the offending knot. Like many of her performances, the physical strength expended was out of all proportion to the result produced, and one stroke of Philip’s knife accomplished more than all her ill-directed effort. At length the bundle of awning cloth stood revealed. ‘Oh, isn’t it beautiful?’ she cried, ‘it will be the very prettiest tent in camp; can’t I blow the horn?’ ‘Look, mamma,’ exclaimed Bell, ‘it is green and grey, in those pretty broken stripes, and the edge is cut in lovely scollops and bound with green braid. Won’t it look pretty among the trees?’ Aunt Truth came out to join the admiring group.