So when the dishes were washed they sat down together, and Hazel heard the secret. “We are going away for the summer,” said her mother. “I find I can make more money at my shampooing in the country than here. Some of my customers go to a beautiful place by the sea and they promise me plenty of business there.” “Is it at Revere Beach?” asked Hazel. “No indeed, goosey, much further than that, ’way down in Maine.” “More traveling?” “Yes, more traveling, but not so far as Alabama.” “I shall miss Charity,” mused Hazel, “but I believe wherever you go you have to miss somebody. Are there pines in Maine?” “Pines?” “Yes, pine trees. Do they grow there?” “I think so, dear.” “Then, if there are pine trees, I shall like it very much!” Just before they left town letters came from Granny and Scip. “Mother,” said Hazel after reading them, “my heart is content. Scipio is living with Granny; at least, he is staying there at night. She never did like living alone, the least bit, and so she got Scip’s father to let the boy stay with her. She gives him supper and breakfast and Granny says he was half starved before, and at night they both read out of the books I left. Granny says they think of me.” Scipio’s letter was plainly printed and showed constant consultation with the dictionary. Dear Sister: Aunt Ellen has took me in. I am going to help her pick cotton when it ripes. The cat is playing by the fire. SCIPIO LEE. “I’m so glad you trimmed my summer hat with the feathers Scip gave me, Mother,” Hazel said, “I shall tell him about it the next time I write.” THE END. TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES: Italicized text is surrounded by underscores: _italics_. Obvious typographical errors have been corrected. Inconsistencies in hyphenation have been standardized. Archaic or variant spelling has been retained from the original.