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On the Hillsdale hills the October sun was shining, and
the forest trees were donning their robes of scarlet and
brown, when again the old stone house presented an air of
joyous expectancy. The large, dark parlors were thrown
open, the best chambers were aired, the bright, autumnal
flowers were gathered and in tastefully arranged bouquets
adorned the mantels, while Theo and Maggie, in their best
attire, flitted uneasily from room to room, running sometimes
to the gate to look down the grassy road, which led from
the highway, and again mounting the tower stairs to obtain
a more extended view.

In her pleasant apartment, where last we left her with a
sprained ankle, Mrs. Jeffrey, too, fidgeted about, half sympathizing
with her pupils in their happiness, and half regretting
the cause of that happiness, which was the expected
arrival of George Douglas and Henry Warner, who,
true to their promise, were coming again “to try for a
week the Hillsdale air, and retrieve their character as fast
young men.” So, at least, they told Mrs. Jeffrey, who,
mindful of her exploit with the banner and wishing to make
some amends, met them alone on the threshold, Maggie having
at the last moment ran away, while Theo sat in a state
of dignified perturbation upon the sofa.

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A few days prior to their arrival, letters had been received
from Madam Conway, saying she should probably remain in
England two or three weeks longer, and thus the house was
again clear to the young men, who, forgetting to retrieve
their characters, fairly outdid all they had done before. The
weather was remarkably clear and bracing, and the greater
part of each day was spent in the open air, either in fishing,
riding, or hunting; Maggie teaching Henry Warner how to
ride and leap, while he in turn taught her to shoot a bird
upon the wing, until the pupil was equal to her master! In
these out-door excursions George Douglas and Theo did
not always join, for he had something to say, which he
would rather tell her in the silent parlor, and which, when
told, furnished food for many a quiet conversation; so
Henry and Maggie rode oftentimes alone; and old Hagar,
when she saw them dashing past her door, Maggie usually
taking the lead, would shake her head and mutter to herself.
`'Twill never do—that match. He ought to hold her back,
instead of leading her on. I wish Madam Conway would
come home and end it.”

Mrs. Jeffrey wished so too, as night after night her slumbers
were disturbed by the sounds of merriment which came
up to her from the parlor below, where the young people
were “enjoying themselves,” as Maggie said, when reproved
for the noisy revel. The day previous to the one set for
their departure chanced to be Henry Warner's twenty-seventh
birth-day, and this Maggie resolved to honor with an extra
supper, which was served at an unusually late hour in the
dining-room, the door of which opened out upon a closely
latticed piazza.

“I wish we could think of something new to do,” said
Maggie as she presided at the table, “something real funny;”
then, as her eyes fell upon the dark piazza, where a single

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light was burning dimly; sheexclaimed, “Why can't we
get up tableaux? There are heaps of the queerest clothes in
the big oaken chest in the garret. The servants can be
audience, and they need some recreation!”

The suggestion was at once approved, and in half an
hour's time the floor was strewn with garments of every conconceivable
fashion, from long stockings and small-clothes
to scarlet cloaks and gored skirts, the latter of which were
immediately donned by Henry Warner, to the infinite delight
of the servants, who enjoyed seeing the grotesque costumes,
even if they did not exactly understand what the
tableaux were intended to represent. The banner, too, was
brought out, and after bearing a conspicuous part in the performance,
was placed at the end of the dining-room, where
it would be the first thing visible to a person opening the
door opposite. At a late hour the servants retired, and
then George Douglas, who took kindly to the luscious old
wine, which Maggie again had brought from her grandmother's
choicest store, filled a goblet to the brim, and
pledging first the health of the young girls, drank to “the
old lady across the water,” with whose goods they were
thus making free!

Henry Warner rarely tasted wine, for though miles away
from Rose, her influence was around him—so, filling his
glass with water, he, too, drank to the wish that “the lady
across the sea would remain there yet awhile, or at all events
not stumble upon us to-night!”

“What if she should!” thought Maggie, glancing around
at the different articles scattered all over the floor, and
laughing as she saw in fancy her grandmother's look of dismay,
should she by any possible chance obtain a view of the
room, where perfect order and quiet had been went to reign.

But the good lady was undoubtedly taking her morning

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nap on the shores of old England. There was no danger to
be apprehended from her unexpected arrival, they thought;
and just as the clock struck one, the young men sought their
rooms, greatly to the relief of Mrs. Jeffrey, who in her long
night robes, with streaming candle in hand, had more than
a dozen times leaned over the banister, wondering “if the
carouse would ever end.”

It did end at last, and tired and sleepy, Theo went
directly to her chamber, while Maggie staid below, thinking
to arrange matters a little, for their guests were to leave on
the first train, and she had ordered an early breakfast.
But it was a hopeless task, the putting of that room to
rights; and trusting much to the good nature of the housekeeper,
she finally gave it up and went to bed, forgetting in
her drowsiness to fasten the outer door, or yet to extinguish
the lamp which burned upon the side-board.