Ellen dropped her flowers on the grass and ran down to the gate to meet the two. “It is, it is Mabel Wickham!” she cried. “How do you happen to be in Marshville?” “Ask Mr. Todd,” replied Mabel laughing. “I hope I have not come because of vain imaginings. May we come in and tell you all about it?” “Indeed you may.” Ellen opened the gate. “You don’t know how glad I am to see you.” “And I am overjoyed to see you, but I want to see your cousin, too. May I? Is she able to receive strangers? Can she leave her room?” “She not only leaves her room but gets all over the house on crutches. She is the pluckiest thing ever, and scorns being an invalid. Come in and I will call her.” “Such a dear, quaint little old house as it is; I just love little houses,” said Mabel enthusiastically as she entered the hall; but she laughed when Ellen tragically indicated the ornaments on the mantel and the pictures on the walls. “You can steep your soul in the beauties of our art treasures while I go to hunt up Cousin Rindy,” she remarked with a twist of a smile as she left the room, wondering meanwhile just what had brought Mabel to Marshville, and why she was in such a hurry to see Miss Rindy. She was not long left in ignorance, for, as soon as Miss Rindy had clumped into the room and the usual forms of introduction were over, Mabel plunged into her subject. “Please, Miss Crump,” she began, “put your mind in a receptive attitude, for if you don’t fall in with my plan I shall faint on the spot. To begin away back at the beginning: my grandmother loves to plan things months ahead, and so she commenced as soon as Christmas was over to talk about her summer plans. Year after year she has gone to a very fashionable, but deadly stupid, watering place where she could sit on the porch of a big hotel all day, do fancy work, and gossip with the other guests while they all rocked placidly. Well, I have stood it just about as long as I can, and this year, being of age, I made up my mind to rebel. My grandmother is neither old nor decrepit, and doesn’t need me in the least, for she will have hosts of friends in the same house, so I want to go off where I can enjoy myself in my own way. Last year one of my great-aunts died and left me a little cottage on an island off the Maine coast, and that is where I am crazy to go. Now this is where you come in.” “Where we come in?” exclaimed Ellen excitedly.