“I don’t hate it--now.” It occurred to Blue Bonnet that Alec was looking--not precisely tired, but as if things were a bit twisted. “How are you getting on with your paper?” she asked. “I have all my notes ready. It ought not to take very long to write it.” “Is Boyd trying?” “I don’t know. He hasn’t said.” “I’m going to Boston on Friday, to stay until Monday morning; it’ll be the first time I’ve been away over night since I came to Woodford.” “To stay with the Boston relatives?” Blue Bonnet nodded. “I wonder will they be very--Bostony.” “They won’t be anything else; but they might be worse. Suppose we have a walk in honor of the great event? Just by our twosomes.” “You wouldn’t rather ride?” “Boyd’s bespoken Victor.” And it occurred to Blue Bonnet that Boyd was getting more good out of Victor these Spring afternoons than Alec was. “He rides Victor too hard,” she said; “I’d just like to get Uncle Joe Terry after him--he would tell him a few things.” “He rides a good many things too hard,” Alec said. “Will you be long?” “Only long enough to leave my books and report to the commanding officer,” Blue Bonnet answered. “And what will the club do without you on Saturday?” Alec asked, as they set out. “Just that--I reckon.” There was considerable protest among the six, when it was known that their president intended leaving them for so long; they flatly refused to hold a meeting without her. “It wouldn’t be any fun!” Debby declared. They were down at the station in a body to see her off; very much as if she were going on a real journey. “Which is what she will be doing before long,” Susy said, watching the train draw out; “so we’d better make the most of her while she’s here.” “Like last week?” Sarah asked, with such unusual spirit that the others stared at her in astonishment. “Good for you, Sallykins!” Kitty commented. “You’re coming on!” Blue Bonnet, seated beside Aunt Lucinda, and rejoicing as she always did in the swift sense of motion, was thinking herself that girls were queer; last week, they would hardly speak to her; this week, they couldn’t be friendly enough. “I’ll have to take an early train Monday morning, won’t I?” she said, turning to her aunt. “The 7.45 from town.” “I hope I don’t oversleep!” “Your Cousin Honoria will not let you lose your train, my dear.” “I wish you were going to stay too,” Blue Bonnet said. After all, the Boston cousins were little more than strangers to her, and very elderly. “You are not afraid of being homesick?” But Miss Lucinda looked pleased. “I believe I am.” And when, later, the cab drew up before the rather somber-looking old house on Beacon Street, Blue Bonnet was quite sure of it. * * * * *