The path was getting pretty well worn now, and the dwellers in the Oriole’s Nest were well pleased that it was so. They were attached to Mis’ Cassie McEvoy, and were a good deal worried that she seemed displeased with them. “I’d like to knock Bluebeard and the Princess Madeline off the shelf and break them to flinders,” said Carin. They all called Mrs. McEvoy’s favorite bottles by the names Azalea had given them. “It could be done so accidentally that she’d think it was the cat.” “No, she wouldn’t,” said Miss Zillah firmly. “Don’t you try anything like that, Carin. Folks have to work out their own liberty. It can’t be done for them by anybody else, though a little help may be given now and then. I think I’ll bake some of those cookies that Mis’ Cassie likes, and I can send some over to her when Mr. McEvoy comes with the milk. I wouldn’t have her offended with me for anything.” Miss Zillah always contrived to be busy, it seemed, and she could keep those around her busy, too. She was quite determined that there should be nothing slipshod about the Oriole’s Nest, and had laid out a fine set of rules for work which had to be followed. Even Keefe—who had soon fallen into the way of having his dinner with them—had his duties. At night, when Miss Zillah supervised the last offices of the day, it was he who brought in the pails of fresh water from the spring, and who filled the wood box. When he had said good night—lingering a little—Miss Zillah locked the doors and drew the curtains. Then she waited till the girls were snug in bed, and kissing them with gentle seriousness, turned out the light. It made it a touch less lonely for them all to hear Keefe whistling on his way to his tent-home. He had made it quite “shipshape” and he took a genuine pride in it. But he did not sleep in it; instead, he slung his hammock from the trees and rested there in moonshine or star-light. Even a light rain could not drive him in. Then, in the morning early, having cooked his breakfast, he was off with his painter’s kit. But his duties seemed always to take him past the door of the Oriole’s Nest, and as he passed he called out mockingly: “Say, teacher.” It won him a blithe signal from some one—possibly from all three of the cottage dwellers. CHAPTER V ROWANTREE HALL The third Sunday of their sojourn on the mountain, they accepted an invitation to Rowantree Hall. Keefe O’Connor had been the messenger, bringing the invitation by word of mouth, and though Miss Zillah was not quite sure about the propriety of accepting, the girls overbore all objections. So it was agreed that Keefe was to be their guide there and back—to which end he borrowed one of Miles McEvoy’s horses—and they set forth in the middle of a shimmering July forenoon. Keefe and Miss Zillah rode ahead; Azalea and Carin followed on their ponies, each of the feminine members of the party carrying in a neat saddlebag a clean summer frock to be donned upon arriving.