Hilary eyed her questioningly. "What is the matter, Patience?" "Nothing is the matter with her," Pauline said hurriedly. "Don't pay any attention to her." "Only, if you would hurry," Patience implored. "I--I can't wait much longer!" "Wait!" Hilary asked. "For what?" Patience pushed back her chair. "For--Well, if you just knew what for, Hilary Shaw, you'd do some pretty tall hustling!" "Patience!" her father said reprovingly. "May I be excused, mother?" Patience asked. "I'll wait out on the porch." And Mrs. Shaw replied most willingly that she might. "Is there anything more--to see, I mean, not to eat?" Hilary asked. "I don't see how there can be." "Are you through?" Pauline answered. "Because, if you are, I'll show you." "It was sent to Paul," Patience called, from the hall door. "But she says, of course, it was meant for us all; and I think, myself, she's right about that." "Is it--alive?" Hilary asked. "'It' was--before supper," Pauline told her. "I certainly hope nothing has happened to--'it' since then." "A dog?" Hilary suggested. "Wait and see; by the way, where's that kitten?" "She's to follow in a few days; she was a bit too young to leave home just yet." "I've got the sugar!" Patience called. Hilary stopped short at the foot of the porch steps. Patience's remark, if it had not absolutely let the cat out of the bag, had at least opened the bag. "Paul, it can't be--" "In the Shaw's dictionary, at present, there doesn't appear to be any such word as can't," Pauline declared. "Come on---after all, you know, the only way to find out--is to find out." Patience had danced on ahead down the path to the barn. She stood waiting for them now in the broad open doorway, her whole small person one animated exclamation point, while Towser, just home from a leisurely round of afternoon visits, came forward to meet Hilary, wagging a dignified welcome. "If you don't hurry, I'll 'hi yi' you, like I do Fanny!" Patience warned them. She moved to one side, to let Hilary go on into the barn. "Now!" she demanded, "isn't that something more?" From the stall beside Fanny's, a horse's head reached inquiringly out for the sugar with which already she had come to associate the frequent visits of these new friends. She was a pretty, well-made, little mare, light sorrel, with white markings, and with a slender, intelligent face. Hilary stood motionless, too surprised to speak. "Her name's Bedelia," Patience said, doing the honors. "She's very clever, she knows us all already. Fanny hasn't been very polite to her, and she knows it--Bedelia does, I mean--sometimes, when Fanny isn't looking, I've caught Bedelia sort of laughing at her--and I don't blame her one bit. And, oh, Hilary, she can go--there's no need to 'hi yi' her." "But--" Hilary turned to Pauline.