Father said something about when he used to have a garden in their backyard, and how nice the fresh vegetables were; and how mother had once kept hens. But Lyddy could not see yet how they were to have either a garden or poultry. They were all three enthusiastic--to each other. And the father was sure that in a fortnight he would be well enough to travel alone to Hillcrest; they must not worry about him. Aunt Jane was to remain in town all that time, and she promised to report frequently to the girls regarding their father's condition. "I certainly wish I could help you gals out with money," said the old lady that evening. "You're the only nieces I've got, and I feel as kindly towards you as towards anybody in this wide world. "Maybe we can get a chance to sell the farm. If we can, I'll help you then with a good, round sum. Now, then! you fix up the old place and make it look less like the Wrath o' Fate had struck it and maybe some foolish rich man will come along and want to buy it. If you find a customer, I'll pay you a right fat commission, girls." But this was "all in the offing;" the Bray girls were concerned mostly with their immediate adventures. To set forth on this pilgrimage to Hillcrest Farm--and alone--was an event fraught with many possibilities. Both Lyddy and 'Phemie possessed their share of imagination, despite their practical characters; and despite the older girl's having gone to college for two years, she, or 'Phemie, knew little about the world at large. So they looked forward to Monday morning as the Great Adventure. It was a moist, sweet morning, even in the city, when they betook themselves early to the railway station, leaving Aunt Jane luxuriously sipping tea and nibbling toast in bed--_this_ time with her nightcap on. March had come in like a lion; but its lamblike qualities were now manifest and it really did seem as though the breath of spring permeated the atmosphere--even down here in the smoky, dirty city. The thought of growing things inspired 'Phemie to stop at a seed store near the station and squander a few pennies in sweet-peas. "I know mother used to put them in just as soon as she could dig at all in the ground," she told her sister. "I don't believe they'll be a very profitable crop," observed Lyddy. "My goodness me!" exclaimed 'Phemie, "let's retain a little sentiment, Lyd! We can't eat 'em--no; but they're sweet and restful to look at. I'm going to have moon-flowers and morning-glories, too," and she recklessly expended more pennies for those seeds.