“As you would,” breathed Azalea meekly.
“Well,” said Annie Laurie, “it’s a grand plan and I hope it will come true, though I’m not perfectly in love with the idea of having you girls go off for the summer and leave me. But never mind that. Let’s have a gallop!”
She flicked the reins on the neck of her pretty mare, and the animal, delighted at the signal, bounded away as playfully as a kitten. Like kittens, too, the ponies on which the other girls were mounted followed after. As they rode, the blooms of the dogwood rained about them and the laughter of the girls mingled with the nickering of the horses.
At the ford, two miles down the valley, they drew rein.
“It’s time I was getting home,” said Annie Laurie. “How about you, Azalea? Do you go up the mountain to-night?”
“No, I’m staying with Carin. That’s getting to be my habit on Friday nights. Mother McBirney comes down Saturday for her trading, and I meet her at the village and then we go home together.”
And now while they canter back down the lovely Valley of Lee in the bland light of the closing day, let us tell something of their history to such readers as have not met them before.
Azalea McBirney did not bear the name to which she was born. She was Azalea Knox, the daughter of a ne’er-do-well son of a fine family, and of a loving-hearted mother who had left her home and friends for the sake of the man she married. The young mother had fallen upon such evil days that at last, to provide her little girl with the necessaries of life, she had traveled with a band of sorry actors who journeyed from town to town in squalid, covered wagons. Sick in body and shamed in spirit, she died on the road in front of the mountain cabin where Thomas and Mary McBirney lived. They had taken Azalea into their home, where she shared their care and affection with Jim McBirney, their only living child.
Carin Carson was the daughter of Charles and Lucy Carson, Northerners of wealth, who, having lost their three sons in a tragic manner, had come to the beautiful little mountain town of Lee, to forget, if possible, amid its beautiful surroundings and peaceful life, the pain which had made their old home impossible to them. They had interested themselves greatly in Azalea, had offered to make her their adopted daughter, and upon her decision to stay with her devoted foster mother, had given her the privilege of sharing with Carin the excellent instruction received from Miss Parkhurst, Carin’s governess.
A warm friendship had developed between the girls, and it was a sharp disappointment to them when Mrs. Carson, who thought they were growing too self-centered and indifferent to other young folk, brought into their classroom Annie Laurie Pace, the daughter of the dairy-man at Lee. It was only after Annie Laurie’s revolt from their selfishness that they realized the need they had of her as well as the privilege that it was to her—a girl too advanced for the district school—to share their opportunities with them. Troubles came to Annie Laurie. She lost her father and her fortune; but these misfortunes only bound the three girls closer in “the triple alliance” which they had formed. When, finally Annie Laurie’s fortune was recovered by a singular chance, they settled down into happy enjoyment of their school days.