The frock was finished, and she washed it out, starched it, and would iron it to-morrow morning. Then there were stockings to mend, although the two younger boys went barefoot around the farm. And she worked up to the very moment the carriage turned up the bend in the road, when she ran and dressed herself while Aunt Jane packed the old valise. The children stood around. "Oh, Mis' Dayton, can't I come some day?" cried Fanny. "How long are you going to keep Helen?" "Till she gets tired and homesick," was the reply. A smile crossed Helen's lips and stayed there, softening her face wonderfully. They shouted out their good-bys, and asked their mother a dozen questions, receiving about as many slaps in return. For the remainder of the day, Mrs. Jason was undeniably cross. "That girl'll turn out just like her father," she said to Jenny. "She hasn't a bit of gratitude." "And I hope the old woman will be as queer as they make them," returned Jenny with a laugh. In the few years of her life, Helen had never been visiting, to stay away over night. This was like some of the stories she had read and envied the heroine. There was a small alcove off Mrs. Dayton's room, with a curtain stretched across. For now the house was really full, except one guest chamber. There was a closet for her clothes just off the end of the short hall, that led to the back stairs, which ran down to the kitchen, a spacious orderly kitchen, good enough to live in altogether, Helen thought. She helped to take the dishes out to Joanna, and begged to wipe them for her. "If you're not heavy handed," said Joanna, a little doubtful. "Or butter-fingered," laughed Helen. "That's what we say at home. But these dishes are so lovely that it is like--well it's like reading verses after some heavy prose." "I'm not much on verses," replied Joanna, watching her new help warily. She did work with a dainty kind of touch. Mrs. Dayton came, and stood looking at them with a humorous sort of smile. "She knows how to wipe dishes," said Joanna, nodding approvingly. "It is a good deal to suit Joanna. No doubt she will excuse you this time from wiping pots and pans, and you may come out of doors with me." The lawn--they called it that here at North Hope--presented a picturesque aspect. A party were playing croquet. Mrs. Disbrowe was walking her twenty-months'-old little girl up and down the path. Mrs. Van Dorn sat in a wicker rocking chair that had a hood over the top to shield her from the air. Her silk gown flowed around gracefully, and her hands were a sparkle of rings. "Oh, how sweet the air is," said Helen. "There's sweet-clover somewhere, and when the dew falls it is so delightful." "They have it in the next-door lawn and the mower was run over it awhile ago." Helen drew long delicious breaths. No noisy children, and the soft laughs, the gay talk was like music to her. She walked across the porch.