The girl's gaze wandered thoughtfully over the beautiful grounds. "I do so love to have you here. I don't see very many people." Her voice was wistful. "This big place gets lonesome sometimes. I think I envy girls who live in houses with stoops on the sidewalk. They have the cars, peddlers, policemen and lots of people going by all of the time. It would be great fun to live that way." She was very sober now. "I think that I want noises and lots of things going on. Am I very strange, Hennie?" "No indeed, all young people are that way," declared Mrs. Henderson with emphasis. "I felt so myself, once. Of course, it is lonely for you in this big house with only Serena. Your father is home for so short a time each day." "Please don't misunderstand me, I am not very lonely--only a little bit. If something interesting--something exciting and wildly adventurous--would happen, Hennie, it would be fine." Mrs. Henderson smiled. "I am afraid that I can't help you in such ways, dear, but I have something here which I am very sure that you will dearly love." She drew forth a small parcel from her bag. Virginia waited in pleased expectation. "I am going to adore it," she cried joyously, as, accepting the package, she prolonged anticipation by inspecting it curiously, "because you gave it to me." "You will care for it for other reasons," replied the older woman soberly. Within the wrappings, the girl found a little volume, the cover of which was much worn. "Don't be misled by appearances," Mrs. Henderson suggested as Virginia opened the book. Upon the fly leaf, written in ink faded with age, was the name, Elinor Clark. The girl's eyes opened wide in wonder and suppressed delight. "It was my mother's book, Hennie?" she asked gently. "Yes, dear, it was a girlhood possession of your mother. During her last illness she gave it to me and asked me to see that you got it on your eighteenth birthday. She explained that she didn't want to trouble your father, yet she wanted you to have it. It was the last request Elinor ever made of me." Mrs. Henderson's eyes winked suspiciously and leaning forward she peered at the worn cover. When she spoke her voice was husky with emotion. "It's a gift that you will always cherish, dear." A great tenderness swept over Virginia's face. "It's my mother's birthday present to me, isn't it, Hennie?"--she almost whispered--"the only one that I can remember." As the older woman bowed her agreement, she moved over upon the couch by the girl and for a time they were silent. Virginia was the first to speak. "Tell me about my mother, please," she said softly, her hand caressing the cover of the book. "It makes Daddy sad if I talk to him too much about her so I never do. But Hennie, I should like to know more of her if I could." "Bless your heart, I will gladly tell you everything I can, dear." She was thoughtful for a moment and then resumed, "Your mother was three years older than you are now when I first met her."