"You see, girls, what it is to have a friend like Jean."
"You mean like Eleanor," Jean promptly retorted.
"I suppose that is true friendship," mused Mollie.
"Must friendship necessarily be as blind as love?" queried Nan, with a smile at the two girls which robbed the words of any sting.
"Jean knows nothing of love," declared Emily, with an air of superiority which was eminently amusing. It was common parlance that Emily never saw the general aspect of things quite as clearly as most people.
Jean joined somewhat constrainedly in the laugh that greeted these words, and wondered if it could be her imagination that Miss Stuart's smile held a covert sneer.
It was late in the afternoon when Helen reached the manor and made her way up to the nursery. The room was dim, for heavy clouds shortened the summer day. A sharp east wind moaned through the trees outside, and nurse had wisely lighted a wood fire in the wide chimneyplace. Its fitful flickering light fell full on little Gladys kneeling before the hearth, her eyes big with excitement as her chubby hands shaped a wonderful house of blocks; while near her Larry, lying flat on his back, threw out occasional hints and suggestions as to its construction. Willie, curled up in one of the deep window-seats, was making the best of the fast-fading daylight to finish a story which, to judge from his absorbed expression, must have been of thrilling interest. As Helen pushed open the door and advanced toward the cheerful fire, three pairs of eyes looked up to greet her.
"Well, chicks, you all look very happy and comfie."
Gladys thrust out her hands in quick alarm to save her block house from dangerous contact with the skirt of Helen's gown.
"P'ease take care, sister," she lisped. "Don't step on our b'ocks, 'cause Larry an' me is buildin' a big castle."