"To think that Webb should have got such a prize!" ejaculated Leonard.
"Well, well, the boys in this family are in luck."
"It will be my turn next," cried Johnnie.
"No, sir; I'm the oldest," Alf protested.
"Let's have supper," Ned remarked, removing his thumb from his mouth.
"Score one for Ned," said Burt. "There is at least one member of the family whose head is not turned by all these marvellous events."
Can the sunshine and fragrance of a June day be photographed? No more can the light and gladness of that long, happy evening be portrayed. Mrs. Clifford held Gertrude's hand as she had Amy's when receiving her as a daughter. The beautiful girl, whose unmistakable metropolitan air was blended with gentle womanly grace, had a strong fascination for the invalid. She kindled the imagination of the recluse, and gave her a glimpse into a world she had never known.
"Webb," said Amy, as they were parting for the night, "I can see a sad, pale orphan girl clad in mourning. I can see you kissing her for the first time. Don't you remember? I had a strange little thrill at heart then, and you said, 'Come to me, Amy, when you are in trouble.' There is one thing that troubles me to-night. All whom I so dearly love know of my happiness but papa. I wish he knew."
"Tell it to him, Amy," he answered, gently, "and tell it to God."
There were bustle and renewed mystery on the following day. Astonishing-looking packages were smuggled from one room to another. Ned created a succession of panics, and at last the ubiquitous and garrulous little urchin had to be tied into a chair. Johnnie and Alf were in the seventh heaven of anticipation, and when Webb brought Amy a check for fifty dollars, and told her that it was the proceeds of his first crop from his brains, and that she must spend the money, she went into Mr. Clifford's room waving it as if it were a trophy such as no knight had ever brought to his lady-love.
"Of course, I'll spend it," she cried. "I know just how to spend it. It shall go into books that we can read together. What's that agricultural jargon of yours, Webb, about returning as much as possible to the soil? We'll return this to the soil," she said, kissing his forehead, "although I think it is too rich for me already."