"Then her letter came and it was so much nicer than the other that I cried out of pure happiness. She asked me to bring Charlie to New York. She knew a famous specialist who she thought might help, if not cure him. She asked me to make her a visit and said she would never wish me to come to live with her except of my own free will. "We went to New York as you know, and, Marjorie"--Constance made an impressive pause--"Charlie is going to be entirely well in a little while. The specialist operated on his hip and the operation was successful. He will be able to walk before very long. When he knew I was coming home he said, 'Tell Marjorie that I don't need to ask Santa Claus for a new leg next year, because the good, kind man she told me about fixed mine.'" "Dear little Charlie," murmured Marjorie. "I'm so glad." A pleasant silence fell upon the two young girls. So much had happened that for a brief moment each was busy with her own thoughts. "Are you coming back to school to finish the year, Constance?" asked Marjorie, at last. "Yes. I am going to try to make up for lost time. I'll take in June the examinations I should have tried in January. I hope to be a Sanford sophomore, Marjorie. Aunt Edith is coming to visit us this summer. She is going to bring Charlie home." Constance remained with Marjorie until almost noon. "I wish you'd stay to luncheon," coaxed the little lieutenant. "I can't. I'm sorry. I promised father I'd be home at noon." "Then I wish you were going to the picnic this afternoon." Constance shook her head, looking wistful, nevertheless. "I'd rather not. Mignon will be there. It is better to be out of sight and out of mind until after Monday." "Everything is turning out beautifully," sighed Marjorie. "There's only one thing more that I could possibly wish for." "What is that?" asked Constance quickly. "My lost butterfly." "Perhaps it will fly back home when you least expect it," consoled Constance. "Lost pins don't fly," retorted Marjorie. "If they did my butterfly would have come back to me long ago." But, even then, though she could not know it, her cherished butterfly was poising its golden wings for the homeward flight. CHAPTER XXV MARJORIE DEAN TO THE RESCUE By one o'clock that afternoon 19-- had assembled at the big elm tree on the river road which had been chosen as a meeting place. The flower hunters had planned to follow the road for a mile to a point where a boat house, which had a small teashop connected with it, was situated. Owing to the continued spring weather the proprietor had opened the place earlier than usual and it was decided that the picnickers should make this their headquarters, returning there for tea when they grew tired of roaming the neighboring woods.