"Here it is, Mr. Leslie," said Sibyl, stepping from under cover.

"Keep it, Sibyl," said the clergyman in a low tone. "It gives me pleasure to see you protected."

"It is still raining steadily, I perceive," said Graham Marr, peeping out from the sheltering branches; "don't you think we had better remain here awhile longer, ladies?"

"The rain won't wash us away, Graham," said his cousin Rose.

"It washes out dyes, however? and shows us all in our true colors,"

whispered Bessie to Lida Powers. "Look at Graham! He looks like a faded ray!"

"He always was a fair-weather piece of goods," answered Lida; "high color, you know, don't stand soaking."

Reaching the wagon, the company climbed inside, the cushions had been kept dry, but the floor was wet, and the rain still fell with the persistence that betokens what farmers call a "steady soaker." Edith Chase sat with Aunt Faith at the rear end of the wagon, but Bessie in Edith's old place, felt her spirits rising with every plunge of the restless leaders.

"Do you think you can manage them, Hugh?" she whispered, just before they started.

"I hope so," he replied confidently. But the blacks had had their nerves tried by the flies, the thunder, and the lightning; besides, they had never been driven four-in-hand before, and they had their doubts as to what the bays were doing behind them. For the first mile or two they kept the road, and then they whirled suddenly round to the left, and stood still.

"Oh!" cried Edith Chase, "we shall all be killed!"

However, after some persuasion, the blacks started on again as suddenly as they had stopped, for wonderful are the ways of balky horses. But the increasing darkness brought new terror; black clouds settled down over the earth and the narrow, winding road grew invisible before them. After several more miles a flash of lightning and a peal of thunder startled the party, the leaders veered round again, jumping violently, and carrying the wagon perilously near the gully. William Mount and Walter Hart sprang to the horses' heads, while the ladies screamed in concert. Aunt Faith was an arrant coward where riding was concerned. "I would rather get out and walk all the way home than sit in this wagon a moment longer," she said, earnestly.

"Take me with you, aunt," said Gem, who was crying aloud.

"I will go, too," said Edith Chase, climbing down with alacrity; "it cannot be very far, now."

"We are still four miles from Westerton," said Hugh. "There is no danger, Aunt Faith; do get in again. The horses are only a little balky; they will be quiet soon."

"Do you call that quiet?" said Rose Saxon, as a flash of lightning revealed the plunging leaders with William Mount and Walter Hart at their heads.

"By all means, let us walk," said Graham Marr, getting out quickly.

"Of course if the ladies insist upon walking, it is our duty to accompany them," said Gideon Fish, following his example.

"Mrs. Sheldon," said Mr. Gay, "if you will walk, pray take my arm."

"Miss Darrell, I shall be happy to help you down," said Gideon Fish.

"Thank you, but I shall stay where I am; I am not at all afraid,"

replied Bessie.

After a few moments, the horses started again; and the walking party plodded along behind; Hugh drove very slowly so as to keep near them, and, in the darkness, Bessie climbed up on the driver's seat beside him. "Bravo, little woman! I knew _you_ would not be afraid," said Hugh.

"Afraid, Hugh! With you!" exclaimed Bessie.

At the other end of the wagon sat Sibyl and Mr. Leslie, who also preferred the wagon to the road. The rain still fell, and the wind had grown cold, but although Sibyl still wore the coat, her companion did not seem to notice his uncovered shoulders. They talked earnestly together in low tones all the way, and when at last the lights of Westerton appeared in the darkness ahead, and the pedestrians, emboldened by these signs of civilization, took their seats in the wagon again, Sibyl's face was so bright that Aunt Faith noticed it.

"You do not look at all cold, my dear," she said, as the light from the first street lamps fell across the wagon, "and yet the air is very chilly."

"I fear I shall have an attack of dumb-ague," said Graham Marr, shivering.

Edith Chase sat on the edge of the seat, ready to spring, watching the leaders with intent gaze; as they approached the old stone house she heaved a deep sigh of relief. "I am so glad it is over," she said, audibly.

"I hope you will all come in and have a cup of hot coffee after the exposure," said Aunt Faith, as, one by one, the tired guests climbed down from the circus-wagon.

"We _are_ all so wet, I think we had better go directly home," said Lida Powers.

"Thank you, Mrs. Sheldon," said Edith Chase, "but we really must go directly home; come, Annie."

"Excuse me, Mrs. Sheldon," said Mr. Gay, "but my seventy years require hot flannels. Good-night."

Mr. Leslie had accompanied Sibyl up the long walk to the piazza in order to take back his coat when she was under shelter. All the other guests made their excuses at the gate, all but Gideon Fish, and when Bessie saw him lingering, she pretended to be very obtuse. "Well, as you won't any of you come in, I will say 'good-night' to all of you,"

she said, closing the gate and turning away. "I couldn't help it, Aunt Faith," she whispered, as they went up the walk; "Gideon wanted some of your coffee, but we have had enough of him for one day, I think."

Mr. Leslie, however, put on his coat and took his coffee with the cousins as though unconscious of his wet clothes; Hugh made up a bright wood fire on the hearth, and they all talked over the incidents of the day, and laughed over its disasters together. It is always amusing to look back on discomfort when it is well over.

"Where now is your beautiful 'Monday morning, bright and early,' Tom?"

said Aunt Faith, remembering the conversation at the breakfast-table.

"_Sic_ transit _gloria Monday_!" said Hugh.

"Incorrigible," said Mr. Leslie, laughing as he said good-night.

CHAPTER VIII.

RIGHT AT LAST.

"Sibyl," said Aunt Faith, the day after the picnic, "have you completed all your preparations for Saratoga?"

"You speak as though my going was a matter-of-course, Aunt," said Sibyl slowly.

"Is it not, dear? I supposed your decision was made several weeks ago," said Aunt Faith, thinking of the written paper which Sibyl had given her to read.

"I think I shall go," said Sibyl, after a pause. "Everything is ready but the pearls; I can buy them any time."

"I hope you will enjoy the summer, my dear," said Aunt Faith, taking her niece's hand affectionately.

"Then you approve of my going, Aunt?"

"You must make your own decision, Sibyl. No one can aid you in such a question as this," replied Aunt Faith gravely.

Sibyl sat awhile in silence; then she rose and left the room.

An hour or two afterwards, Bridget came upstairs to tell Aunt Faith that Mr. Leslie wished to see her; she went down, somewhat surprised at so early a call, and found the young clergyman waiting for her in the parlor.

"Mrs. Sheldon," he said, after the first words of greeting, "poor Margaret Brown is in great trouble. You remember our conversation about her yesterday? Calling in to tell her of it this morning, I found two of the children stricken down with fever, seriously ill, the doctor says; and I have come directly to you for aid; to you and Miss Warrington."