"I am going to look for them," said Missy, drawing on her gloves. "I want to get them out of the way, and keep them safe, till the hegira is over. I haven't much faith in Mr. Andrews' having the nerve to do it; but perhaps I don't do him justice. If they are not all got off by the noon train to-day, I shall know it will never be done." Missy carried the children out with her in the pony-wagon; she even took Mr. Andrews' intentions to be so probable of execution, that she went two or three miles inland to see the woman whom she had fixed upon in her own mind, as the successor to Alphonsine in the care of the children. She even stopped at the tin-man's, in the village, to get the address of a good substantial cook, whom she knew to be out of place, who had a settled reputation for bread-baking, and an honorable record in the matter of soup. She did not say for whom she wanted her--she was a little ashamed of taking it for granted, that her advice would be acted upon. All the same, it was as well to be prepared. She even drove to a house in one of the bye-streets of the village, to see if a certain Ellen, whose black eyes and white aprons had always met her approval, was still out of a situation. All these were at her command--cook, waitress, and nurse. It was fascinating to have everything go so smooth. How delightful to have your own way; how heavenly to make people carry out your plans. Through it all there ran one little thread of doubt as to the steadfastness of Mr. Andrews; this only gave the matter zest. She felt as if it were quite a stirring little vaudeville; it wasn't worth while to make tragedy out of it, and get angry if she were disappointed--but altogether she liked it. She liked driving about with her brisk little pony on a bright September morning like this, doing her errands, giving her orders, having people come out smiling to their gates to speak to her. She liked all this, even when it was only her own errands she did, and her own ordinary housekeeping that she looked out for. It was a pleasure to secure the best butter and the freshest eggs, and to drive to pretty, cool-looking farm-houses for them; to go for cornmeal and graham flour just ground, to a romantic-looking old mill by the edge of the woods, where the drip of the water and the shade of the trees made a perpetual cool. People who had things to sell were always glad to see her, for she bought a great many things and paid a good price for them. She was often called upon for favors and for advice, and this pleased her. The sight of the pretty little carriage was a signal for many an inhabitant of farm-house or village, to come out to the roadside and have a consultation with the young lady who drove it. She was a favorite, and it is pleasant to be important--and to have your own way. She generally had hers, even about other people's matters, for it was a very good way, and a good way presented in such a manner as was convincing.