Mr. Alder spoke kindly, but as Clematis heard the words, she turned pale.

"Only a few days more. Only a few days more." The words went through her mind again and again.

She had never thought about going back. Two weeks seems a long, long time to little girls. Only a few days more before she must leave Tilton.

Clematis put her elbows on the window sill, and rested her chin in her hands.

The sun was setting behind the maple tree. The golden rays gleamed in the white mist that had risen from the river, for it was a cold evening.

In the distance the Belmont mountains were a deep, misty blue, and the clouds above them all white and gold.

Now all the valley was filling with a golden mist. The birds were singing in the trees along the banks of the river. They filled the evening air with joyous songs.

"Only a few days more. Only a few days more."

Soon she must go back to the brick walls, and the yard with the high fence around it.

When Mr. Alder came to call Clematis for supper, her eyes were red, and her cheeks pale.

"Never mind, dear little girl," he said. "We'll keep Deborah shut up. I guess we can spare the chickens. We have plenty more."

She said nothing, but went silently in for the evening meal. She had forgotten all about the chickens. All through supper the words ran in her head, and the last thing in her mind as she fell asleep was this thought:

"Only a few days more."

CHAPTER XVII

WHERE IS CLEMATIS?

On Monday Clematis found a big, blue envelope, with the other mail.

"I guess you have a letter for your own self this time," said Mr.

Morse, as he handed her the mail.

Clematis did not stop to look at the little fishes by the sh.o.r.e. She hurried straight home.

It was a letter for her own self. Miss Rose sent it to her.

"Oh, I wish I had learned to read. Please read mine first, Mrs.

Alder?"

"Do you think that is polite?" asked Mrs. Alder.

"No'm, but you get lots of letters."

"That is true. Well, let us see."

She opened the envelope, while Clematis got close to her side.

"Dear little Clematis:

I hope you are well, and having a good time. I am sure you must be having a splendid time, for Tilton is a lovely place.

I wish I were with you.

What a naughty girl you were to take Deborah, when she was not invited. I hope Mrs. Alder has forgiven you.

I am going to ask Mrs. Alder to send you home on the afternoon train Sat.u.r.day, so you will be all ready when school begins.

I shall be at the train to meet you. Don't forget Deborah.

Your true friend, Rose Thornton."

"That is a good letter for a little girl to get, I am sure. Now run out and play, while I read my letters."

Clematis went out, rather slowly. The letter made her think again of the end of her stay, and she was sad.

But the sun was bright, the breeze was cool, and the birds sang merrily.

She saw Mr. Alder down in the garden, and ran to him.

"Can I help you, Mr. Alder?"

"I think not. I am weeding late carrots, and I think you would not know them from weeds."

"I should know them, honestly. Just let me try a little bit."

"Well, then, take this little trowel. Make the earth loose around them, and then pull the weeds out with your fingers."

Clematis kneeled in the soft earth, and began to work with the trowel.

She weeded the row across from Mr. Alder, where he could see what she was doing.

"Well, I declare! You are a real gardener." Mr. Alder patted her shoulder, and praised her well when she had done several feet of her row.

The little green tops of the carrots all stood straight and clean.

Every weed was gone, but no carrots were hurt.

"I told you I could do it. You did not believe me, did you?"

Clematis smiled happily.

"Well, I do now. I never saw any one do better."

So the man and the little girl worked side by side beneath the August sun.