"_How_ you frightened me! And why this magnificence? No, it is _not_ a love-letter!" Nancy laughed joyously as she tucked it away in her pocket. Oh, why _couldn't_ she tell Peter Hyde that it was word that her dearest father was at that moment sailing home to her! (Nancy could not know that the letter had lain in Tim Finnegan's pocket for five whole days.) "This----" and Peter Hyde caressed his new possession, "is the latest tool at Judson's. You have no idea how many things it can do--'most everything except milk the cows. To-day I thought, if Miss Nancy Leavitt was willing, it might take us on a picnic--say, up to Isle La Motte. I'm beastly tired of work!" "Oh, lovely," declared Nancy. "I've felt these last few days as though I wanted to rush off somewhere! Besides, I have something to tell you!" Peter pretended alarm at her serious tone; then making her promise to be ready within a half-hour, he drove off. It would be very pleasant to have a last picnic with Peter Hyde. She would give herself one day of frolic before she faced the problem of getting away from Happy House. It was too hot for Aunt Milly to go out to the orchard, she would leave word with B'lindy that if Nonie came the child should be sent to Miss Milly's room to amuse her. And perhaps it would be wiser if she slipped away without telling Aunt Sabrina. Aunt Sabrina was sure to look as though, when _she_ was a girl, young ladies did not dash off on long automobile rides unchaperoned! Avoiding the living room and the hollyhock porch, Nancy sought out B'lindy and begged a little lunch. "We're going for a little ride in Mr. Judson's new car, B'lindy, but we might not get back in time for lunch--you know you never _can_ tell what'll happen when you start out in an automobile! A few nice jelly sandwiches and a little cold chicken and some fruit cake and--tarts----" B'lindy shook her head. "'Tain't the _lunch_ that's botherin' me, child, but I can't get the pesky idee out o' my head that somethin' is goin' to happen! I've been feelin' that way in my bones all day and all day yesterday, too." "B'lindy, you foolish, superstitious thing--it's your rheumatism!" "I guess it ain't my rheumatiz, Miss Anne, and my bones generally feels right. I ain't forgotten when Miss Milly had that accident nor when Judson's barn burned. I thought mebbe it was poor Mis' Hopkins dyin'. Didn't you know the poor soul dropped right off in her sleep last night and left Timothy Hopkins with those ten children to care for? I sez this mornin' when Jonathan told me that there was no use tryin' to understand the ways of the Lord--ten children and that poor Timothy Hopkins as helpless a body as ever was, anyway, and not much more'n 'nough to feed his own stomach and no one to manage now!" "How dreadful! Poor man." Nancy tried to make her tone sympathetic. "Of course that was what your bones were feeling, B'lindy!"