you glad we came?” said Dolly, still hanging on to Pat’s hand.
“I – I guess so, Miss,” he replied, cautiously; “but I can’t say yet, for sure. Ye’re rampageous, I’m afraid. Ain’t ye, now?”
“Yes,” said Dick, who was always honest, “I think we are. At least, everybody says so. But, Pat, we’re going to try not to make you any trouble.”
“Now, that’s a good boy. If ye talk like that, you ’n me’ll be friends.”
Dolly said nothing, but she smiled happily up into Patrick’s kind eyes, and then, with their usual adaptability to circumstances, the twins began to feel at home.
CHAPTER III
AN EARLY STROLL
Soon after daybreak next morning, Dolly woke, and surveyed with satisfaction her pretty room.
Pink roses clambered over the wall paper, and over the chintz hangings and furniture, and over the soft, dainty bed-coverlet.
It was much more attractive than her room at Aunt Helen’s, and as Dolly loved pretty things, she gave a little sigh of content and nestled comfortably into her pillows. Then she heard Dick’s voice whispering through the closed door between their rooms.
“Hi, Dolly; I say! Aren’t you up yet?”
“No, are you?”
“Yes, and ’most dressed. Hustle, can’t you? and let’s go out and chase around the place.”
“Before breakfast?”
“Yes; breakfast isn’t until eight o’clock, and it’s only six now.”
“All right, I’ll hustle,” and Dolly sprang out of bed, and began to dress.
The twins were a self-reliant pair, and quite capable and methodical when they had time to be.
Dolly dressed herself neatly in a clean blue and white plaid gingham; and as she could tie her hair ribbon quite well enough, except for special occasions, the blue bow on her golden curls was entirely satisfactory.
“I’m all ready, Dick,” she whispered at last, through the door, “and we mustn’t make any noise, for maybe the aunties are asleep yet.”
“All right; I’ll meet you in the hall.”
So both children went on tiptoe out into the big, light hall, and softly down the stairs.
No one seemed to be stirring, but they unfastened the locks and chains of the front doors, and stepped out into the beautiful fresh morning.
“I’ve got to holler!” said Dick, still whispering. “They can’t hear us now.”
“Yes, they can; wait till we get farther away from the house.”
So, hand in hand, they ran down the garden path, and when a grape arbour and a cornfield were between them and their sleeping aunts, they decided they were out of hearing.
“Hooray!” yelled Dick, as loud as he could, at the same time turning a jubilant handspring.
Dolly was quite as glad as her brother, but contented herself with dancing about, and giving little squeals of delight as she saw one rapturous sight after another.
“Oh, Dick,” she cried, “there’s a fountain! ’way over there on the little hill. Do you s’pose that’s on our grounds?”
“’Course it is. This is all ours, as far as you can see, and more too. That woodsy place over there is ours; Pat told me so.”
“We’ll have picnics there. And Dick, maybe there are fairies in the woods.”
“Sure there are. That’s just the kind of woods that has fairies. But they only come out at night, you know.”
“Yes, but it’s only just a little past night now. The sun has only been up a short time. Maybe there are some fairies there yet.”
“Maybe; let’s go and see.”
With a skip and a jump the children started for the woods, which, however proved to be farther away than they had thought.
They trudged merrily on, stopping now and then to speak to a robin, or kick at a dandelion, but at last they came to the edge of the grove.
“Oh, Dick!” cried Dolly, in ecstasy, “think of having a real woods, right in our own yard! Isn’t it gorgeous!”
“Great! but go softly now, if we want to see fairies. I’m ’fraid they’ve all gone.”
Hand in hand the children tiptoed into the wood. They moved very cautiously, lest they should step on a twig, or make any noise that should frighten the fairies.
“There’s where they dance,” whispered Dick, pointing to a smooth, green mossy place. “But of course they always fly away when the sun rises.”
“Yes, I s’pose so,” said Dolly, regretfully. “Shall we come out earlier to-morrow?”
“Yes; or we might come out to see them some night. Moonlight nights; that’s the time!”
“Would you dare? Oh, Dick, wouldn’t it be grand!”
“Hey, Dolly, there’s a squirrel; a real, live one! That’s better’n fairies. Oh, look at him!”
Sure enough, a grey squirrel ran past them, and now sat, turning his head back to look at them, but ready for instant flight if they moved.
But they didn’t move, they knew better; and scarce daring to breathe, they sat watching the wonderful sight.
Meantime, there was consternation in the household. At seven o’clock Miss Rachel had sent Hannah, the waitress, to call the twins.
The maid returned with a scared face, and announced that the children had gone.
“Gone!” cried Miss Rachel, who was engaged in making her own toilet; “where have they gone?”
“I don’t know, ma’am; but they’re not in their rooms, and the front door is wide open.”
“Oh, they’ve run away!” cried Miss Rachel, and hastily throwing on a dressing gown, she went to her sister’s room.
“Get up, Abbie,” she exclaimed. “Those children have run away!”
“Run away? What do you mean?”
“Why, they’ve gone! I suppose they didn’t like us. Perhaps they were homesick, or something. Abbie, do you suppose they’ve gone back to Chicago, all alone?”
“Nonsense, Rachel, of course they haven’t! Children always rise early. They’re probably walking in the garden.”
“No, I don’t think so. Something tells me they’ve run away because they don’t like us. Oh, Abbie, do you think that’s it?”
“No, I don’t. Go on and dress. They’ll be back
