CHAPTER XXIV
CONCLUSION
The full moon shone down with his broadest smile on the group of young people who occupied Mrs. Gray's roomy, old-fashioned veranda.
"We're here because we're here," caroled Hippy Wingate, balancing himself on the edge of the porch rail, both arms outspread to show how successfully he could sit on the narrow railing without support.
"You won't be 'here' very long," cautioned Miriam Nesbit. "You are likely to land in that rose bush just below you. It's a very thorny one, too. I know, because I tried to pull a rose from it only a little while ago. Remember, I have warned you."
"Don't worry over me, Miriam," declared Hippy airily, pretending to lose his balance and recovering himself with an exaggerated jerk.
"Oh, I am not worrying," retorted Miriam. "If you fall backward into that rose bush it won't hurt me."
"Did I say it would, my child?" asked Hippy serenely.
"Don't answer him, Miriam," advised Nora. "He is like Tennyson's 'Brooklet,' he goes on forever."
"How peaceful and quiet it was in Oakdale until yesterday," was Hippy's sorrowful comment. "'Gone are the days when my heart was light and gay,' etc."