She kissed her father gratefully. As she went upstairs, her mind was filled with wonder that she should ever have misunderstood him so completely, and have complacently ascribed to herself intellect and culture and knowledge superior to his. She found herself feeling actually grateful for the events of her life since June. “What if I had never known his darlingness!” she said. It was not many hours before Auburn knew of the expected arrival of Mrs. Grafton. Miss Bates had constituted herself an information bureau, and had flitted hither and thither with an alacrity not at all hindered by her rage against the younger Graftons. About four o’clock in the afternoon, as Barbara was giving capable directions in the kitchen, a knock sounded on the door. “I just ran in this way,” said Susan, “because I wanted to congratulate you, and to see if you don’t want this chocolate cake for supper. Barbara, what are you laughing at?” “This is the third cake I have received to-day for mother,” giggled Barbara, “and four chickens are waiting to be consumed. But put it down, Sue dear, and Jack will make a hole in it very soon.” “Well, anyway,” Susan declared, “it’s because every one loves your mother so much! And it is also because every one recognizes your pluck.” “Everybody in this whole town is lovely!” answered Barbara. Susan smiled. But there was no triumph in her face, only joy that her friend had come into her own. “It is half-past five!” announced Barbara from the window-seat of the living-room. “Father has gone to the train almost an hour ahead of time. Everything in the house is in perfect order; supper is nearly ready; David isn’t tired; and we are all ‘neatly and tastefully attired’ for the occasion. Won’t mother be impressed!” “Not by Gassy,” answered Jack. “Gassy has a hole in her stocking above her shoe, and I don’t know how many below. Her waist has two buttons missing in the back; still, her hair is somewhat improved, and that’s one comfort.” “I look as well as you,” retorted Gassy, carrying the work-basket over to her sister. “You have some soot on your face, and I won’t tell you where, and nobody else shall, either.” “Am I clean?” asked David, plaintively. “Clean!” exclaimed Jack. “Why, David, you’re as clean as a piece of blank paper, and just as thin. Turn your face to mother when she comes in, for she won’t be able to see you if she catches a glimpse of you sideways.” “How tiresome you are, Jack!” observed Gassy, condescendingly. “I—” She was interrupted by a series of bumps and scrapings in the cellar below, followed by a strange wailing moan. “Hark from the tombs a doleful sound!” cried Jack, rising. “I’ll bet a quarter it’s the Kid.”