"If I have learned anything it is you who have taught me," Jim said gently.

"If I have really been a help to you I am very glad and thankful, but I am sure most of the credit belongs to the boy who was so ready to be helped."

When he left, after half an hour's talk, her sympathy and interest had already made his sacrifice seem a little easier, but he did not guess how he had on his part cheered and comforted this kind friend.

Jim had been gone only a few minutes when Aunt Zelie's corner was again invaded. This time it was Ikey who looked in, and seeing her alone came and took possession of a stool at her feet.

"I am going a week from next Thursday," he announced.

"I don't enjoy all these changes in the least," she said, patting the curly head; "I can't think what I shall do without my boys."

"You have been so awfully good to me, only I never could say so like Jim. I don't want to go away and have you think I don't care, for I do, and I hope you won't forget me." Ikey got through this speech with difficulty.

Aunt Zelie couldn't help laughing at him. "You are a dear boy, and there is not the slightest danger that we will ever forget you," she said, and then she told him about the talk she had just had with Jim.

"He is splendid, isn't he? and I used to wonder why Carl liked him."

"Yes, he has changed a good deal since we first knew him, but I am proud of all my boys, and believe I can trust them wherever they go."

It was almost dark in the hall when she found herself taken possession of by two strong arms, and Carl's voice inquired what she was doing all alone.

"Feeling ashamed of myself."

"Very unnecessary, I am sure."

"No, I was worrying a little over you boys for one thing; then I had a visit from Jim."

"He is tiptop, but I don't know what I am going to do without old Ikey."

"Then tell him so, for he is afraid we will forget him."

"Ikey is a great goose; but indeed, Aunt Zelie, you need not be afraid for us! I don't mean to be self-confident,--I know I shall often do wrong,--but it means a lot to a fellow when he has somebody like you to care for him."

"Why, how dark it is! Who is here? I can't see," exclaimed Bess, coming in, followed by her father and Louise.

"Carl making love to Aunt Zelie," said the latter, dropping down on the other side of her aunt, and taking possession of all that was left.

Bess surveyed them discontentedly. "There is not a sc.r.a.p of a place for me."

"You will have to put up with your old father," said Mr. Hazeltine.

"You are better than n.o.body," she said saucily.

"I forgot to tell you," began Louise suddenly, "that Mr. Caruth is going to j.a.pan."

"Is that so?" her father said in surprise, while Carl and Bess both exclaimed. "Did you know anything of it, Zelie?"

"It is rather a sudden decision, I fancy. Some friends have been urging him to go. He was here this afternoon and said good-by," she replied.

"I met him just as he was leaving," said Louise, "and he asked me to say good-by to everybody for him."

"If everybody goes, what are we to do?" asked Bess disconsolately.

"Suppose we go, too! What do you say, Zelie, to sending Carie and Helen to comfort Aunt Annie in her loneliness while the rest of us go off for a holiday? We can see Ikey on his way and drop Carl at school later on."

"You are an angel to think of such a thing!" cried Louise, and Mr.

Hazeltine was so nearly suffocated by his ecstatic daughters that he almost regretted his proposal.

Aunt Zelie wouldn't have dared to object if she had wished to, so she and her brother made their plans while the girls and Carl ran over to tell Ikey the good news.

CHAPTER XXVI.

THE BIG FRONT DOOR IS LEFT ALONE.

"If Dora could only go!" Bess said, as she and Louise flew around in a delightful bustle of preparation.

As this was quite out of the question, Dora was content to stay at home. She promised Helen that she would go over and pet Mr. Smith, the cat, occasionally, that he might not feel her absence too deeply, and Aunt Zelie told her to help herself to all the flowers she wanted.

Uncle William sent her half a dozen new books, and the girls and Carl promised to write often.

The boys felt themselves to be most important members of society as the time for leaving drew near, for they were petted and feasted and made much of generally.

Aunt Marcia gave them an elegant dinner; Elsie had a fete in their honor; but best of all was the farewell tea-party at Miss Brown's the evening before they left, to which only the ten were invited.

It would be impossible to tell of all the fun they had, and how Mary actually came so near laughing at some of the nonsense that she had to beat a hasty retreat to the kitchen to save her dignity.

They drank the health of the departing members in lemonade, and then Ikey proposed "the Lady of the Brown House, who has been altogether jolly, though we did begin by breaking her window."

This was received with great applause, and Aleck said, "You must make a speech, Miss Brown."

"I am afraid I shall not be equal to the occasion," she answered; "but I must say that I have always been glad of that broken window. I owe to it some of my happiest hours, and I thank you all for you kindness to your invalid neighbor."

"Three cheers for Miss Brown!" cried Aleck.

"I think she will be just as much complimented if we make less noise,"

suggested Bess. "I am sure she knows that we all love her, and if we have given her any happiness it is only a piece of the pleasure she has given us come back to her."

"Hurrah for Bess!" cried the irrepressible one.

Next Will proposed the Big Front Door.

Great enthusiasm prevailed as Carl rose to respond. They all expected one of his spread-eagle efforts, but instead he said: "I thank you all in the name of the Big Front Door and the people who live behind it.

We have had good times there and hope to have more in the future, but besides this it has helped us to do right sometimes, and though our Order may seem rather childish now, let us not forget our motto, and keep our silver keys to remind us to be helpers wherever we go."

He sat down with a flushed face, rather abashed at his own earnestness.