“In August a severe storm occurred, which raged with indescribable fury for a day and a night, the rain falling in sheets, while the Saco overflowed its banks, thus creating a state of general upheaval. Two days later, a tourist traveling through the Notch arrived at the inn, to find it uninjured, but deserted, with the exception of a half-starved dog who was whining dismally. He made his way to Bartlett, and the mountaineers, hurrying to the scene, finally discovered the bodies of Mr. and Mrs. Willey and two hired men, who were buried in a mass of wreckage not far from the inn. The bodies of the children were never discovered. “It is supposed,” explained Nathalie, “that they had all rushed out on again hearing the rumbling noises, and had evidently tried to seek the shelter of a cave near. But they were too late,” she ended with a pathetic sigh, “for the avalanche was upon them before they reached it. If they had only remained in the house they would have been saved.” A little later, as Philip and Van became engaged in a conversation about the war, a topic of which they never seemed to weary, Nathalie and Nita, with arms intertwined in long-cemented _camaraderie_, wandered to the high, jutting rock which Nathalie called “Heaven’s window.” Here in awed silence they gazed at the faraway, scintillating blue peaks, huge escarpments, and yawning mountain crevasses towering above the alpine meadow, that, rich in many shades of verdure, darkened with cloud-shadows, and cut with ribbon-like trails of forest foliage, were a “Wondrous woof of various greens.” In the sun-dyed splendor it was like a cloth of gold, a wondrous tapestry woven by Nature in her most majestic mood, a picture that held them with the calm of its infinite beauty. Suddenly Nita, who never was quiet very long, cried: “Oh, Nathalie, you must tell us what you meant when you said that you had a big idea. Don’t you remember, it was when Janet made Philip stop his story?” “I don’t know as it is a very big idea,” replied her companion, “for its bigness depends, as Dick says, on whether we make a go of it or not. I spoke of it then, not only because I had just thought of it, but because I wanted to second Janet, for Philip was as white as a ghost. “You know,” she continued slowly, “the afternoon teas at the Sweet Pea Tea-House have not been very well attended lately. I presume the minds of the people have been diverted by some new form of amusement. I’m awfully sorry, too, for I think my dear Sweet-Pea ladies need the money. Now what do you think of having Philip tell the rest of his story some afternoon at the Tea-House? We’ll get Jean to tell his story, too, and the boys can sing patriotic songs; and then, there’s Tony, with his violin. I think we can get up a real good entertainment, and we can call it a Liberty Tea.” “Oh, Nathalie, that’s a peach of an idea!” Nita’s blue eyes glowed enthusiastically.