Oh, no, the girls did not spend all their time with Philip, for, as this was Nita’s first visit to the White Hills, there were many things to see. One of the first places she had been taken by her friend was to the Sweet Pea Tea-House, to meet the invalid and the deaf-and-dumb lady. She was not only charmed with their garden of gardens, but enthusiastic in her warm admiration of the charms of its owners. And it was not long before she was alternating with Nathalie in reading to Miss Whipple, for Nathalie had managed, with her many duties and joys, to keep up the readings to the shut-in. Mrs. Carney, of the little red house, also received a call, and the young girl had come away curiously impressed with the oddities of the queer little old lady, whose small black figure, with her basket of yarn for knitting, always in that funny poke-bonnet, was a familiar sight on the road. Janet, Nita declared, was “just lovely,” and that this admiration was reciprocated was evidenced by Janet taking her down to her farm, although sadly neglected at present. Here Nita not only did her share of weeding, but returned with such glowing accounts of the farm’s luxuriance, expatiating so glowingly upon its fertility, and what wonders Janet had been able to accomplish so late in the season, that Nathalie forebore poking fun at it, as she generally did. Nita had gazed at the mystery room with a keen desire to peep within, had read Nathalie’s diary of each day’s doings, and had prowled all over the house, intent on selecting what she thought was the most valuable thing for Nathalie to select, as she, too, was anxious that she should “win the prize,” as the children called it. She had even visited Cynthia in her sanctum sanctorum, to Nathalie’s astonishment, the artist apparently having taken a great fancy to the hunchback girl, being particularly cordial to her, and returning Mrs. Van Vorst’s call, to the amazement of Mrs. Page, before that lady had had a chance to do so. But the reason therefor was apparently explained, when it became known that she had suggested to Mrs. Van Vorst that she allow her to paint Nita’s portrait, insisting that her golden hair and violet eyes would show up beautifully on a canvas. Nathalie was still more surprised when that kind-hearted lady, whose income was amply sufficient to allow her to indulge in many whims, consented, and Cynthia was in a glorified state at the success of her plan. Liberty Fort had proved a good inspirer of patriotism, as Nita not only became, for the time, a most valiant Son of Liberty, entering with great zest into the children’s sham battles on the meadow below, but she introduced an element of war that was hailed with delight. This was a battery gun, which she contrived to make, with the help of Jean, out of an old lead pipe found in the cellar, and which was placed on wheels, the remains of an old hayrack, and installed at the top of the terrace in front of the fort.