Gwen was the center of interest, and that pleased her greatly. Mrs. Harcourt was delighted, fairly beamed upon those who crowded around her small daughter, to ask all about her long tramp and how it seemed to be alone on the wooded hilltop.
Of course the story lost nothing in the telling.
Gwen made it really thrilling, but after a time, even her mother felt that the tale was becoming rather lurid for a strictly truthful account, and she dragged Gwen away to the hall, and up the stairway, but she made herself absurd.
"Really, Gwen, you should be a bit careful," she said, as gently as if afraid of offending her small girl. "If your wonderful imagination made you think you saw eyes peering at you from behind those tree-trunks, you should remember that common people might not believe you. Ordinary people could not understand."
"I don't care if they don't!" Gwen said stoutly. "I shall tell what I want to, and they can believe it or not, just as they choose."
"I surely am the mother of a genius," murmured the silly woman.
A few days later, great excitement prevailed among the children of the Summer colony at Cliffmore, and their elders were sufficiently interested to talk of the news on the piazza, the beach, the little park, at breakfast, at lunch, and at dinner.
"It is really to be quite an affair," said one lady, to which her friend replied:
"I wouldn't miss it for the world, for I heard that no expense had been spared, and that the whole thing will be as beautiful as a dream."