“You _are_ a brick, Winnie, a real trump! Charley, they have splendid guinea-fowls at Farmer Johnson’s. We could go and talk to him about it to-morrow after school. Oh, won’t it be jolly? I am glad you thought of it, Phil. You shall have some eggs by-and-by, and so shall Winnie. It’s just first-rate!” The children rose to go; all the faces were very bright. “Shall you be able to come again, Miss Winnie?” asked Phil wistfully; “it is so nice to see you sometimes.” “I’ll come if I can,” answered the child slowly; “only I’m not sure,--I think sometimes--” “We’re afraid sometimes she won’t be able to get out much, now that the summer is gone,” broke in Charley, with almost nervous haste; “but we’ll come to see you, Phil, Ronald and I, so don’t look blue.” “Thank you, Mr. Charley, thank you kindly. Good-bye, Miss Winnie.” “Good-bye, Phil.” The two children smiled into each other’s eyes. It was the last look they ever exchanged on earth. [Illustration: Decorative image] CHAPTER IX. THE LAST FLIGHT. The summer weather lasted only three days longer, but those three days were not wasted. Winifred was so anxious to get the guinea-fowls into their new home, that everything else for a while gave way to that plan. The carpenter was called in to mend the little shed, and to wire in a great square from the field to make a run for the expected tenants. The thatcher came with his straw to fill up the holes in the roof, and the blacksmith fixed an iron drinking-trough in one corner, and brought up a padlock for the door of the shed. Winifred watched all these proceedings with the greatest interest. She had not felt so strong again as she had done on Sunday; she could not walk to the lodge or do anything which required much exertion; but she could just manage to get down to the home field where the work was going on, and sit upon a tree-stump near at hand to watch the men at work, and to ask questions as to how and why they did this or that. Winifred found it all very interesting, and was delighted when on the evening of the second day the home was pronounced complete. “It’s done, Charley! it’s done!” she called to them gladly, as they came rushing down the field from their day’s lessons. “Come and see how nice it all looks. When can the fowls come?” “To-morrow,” answered Charley. “We can bring them back with us to-morrow. We’ve arranged it all with Farmer Johnson, and we’re going to start with ten. You’ll see them arrive to-morrow, Winnie.” “Oh jolly!” cried Ronald; “you will like them, Winnie, they are such jolly birds. I’d sooner keep guinea-fowls than anything now.” Winifred was as much pleased and excited as anybody, and quite impatient for the arrival of the new pets. “I do hope they will come to-morrow, and that it will keep hot!” she said to herself that night. “For it can’t be summer always, and the swallows are gathering so fast--so fast. It must be nearly time for them to go.”