"Now, girls, for a good coast!" cries Starrett. "Here goes!" And away indeed he goes, over the brow of the hill, rolling swiftly, and removing his feet from the pedals as his machine gathers way. Away also they all fly after him, merry as larks, waking all the echoes of the shore with their light-hearted shouts and laughter. The tricycle lamps flash out upon the seaward road, and soon it comes to pass, that as Charley's wheels whiz flashing into the wide, grassy dooryard of a certain pleasant little summer abode, a hand lifts the window curtain, and a voice, with a ring of irrepressible gladness but a great pretense of gruffness, calls out: "Is this my noisy daughter, who has been running wild for a week over all the roads on Cape Cod?" "Oh, Papa!" cries Charley, gleefully, "we've had a perfectly charming trip!" And so says the entire club. And they pass a vote of thanks to Joe for taking faithful care of them, and to Starrett for his excellent escort duty. And now when the story of their eighty-mile ride is told, everybody votes tricycling a wonderfully health-giving and delightful exercise, and the first long trip of the Girls' Tricycling Club a grand success. MORNING-GLORIES. BY LAURA LEDYARD POPE. My neighbor's morning-glories rise And flutter at her casement; _My_ morning-glories' lovely eyes Peep just above the basement. And both our morning-glories strew With loveliness the railing, And thrust their starry faces through The vines about the paling. But when at last the thrifty sun A work-day world arouses, Hers gather up their dainty skirts And vanish in their houses. They draw their silken curtains close, There's not a soul can find them; And mine run up the school-house path, And shut the door behind them! * * * * * [Illustration] It was a fair Artist named May If you looked at her sketch she would say, "It's horrid, I know-- If you please _wont_ you go, I'm not in the humor today." LITTLE LORD FAUNTLEROY. BY FRANCES HODGSON BURNETT. [Illustration] CHAPTER VII.