"Madge is a genius of the first order. Charlie and the boys all swear by her, and say she would beat the fellow that invented the carnivals."
"Fred, do be moderate," cried Marguerite; who at the same moment could not repress a feeling of pride in the boy's earnestness and filial affection.
But Fred, was not to be gainsaid, and edged in his witticisms with an air of infinite satisfaction. Trinity chimed out the hour of twelve, and served as a reminder for the withdrawal of the guests. Josie had succeeded in getting up a first-class encounter with the indomitable Fred, and then beat a hasty retreat, utterly regardless of the least approach to etiquette.
"I will see you again before you go away, Helen?"
"Yes, my dear Madge," cried the other putting her arms around Marguerite in a sweet caressing manner, "and I shall have one more chat that will last until I see your dear old face again."
Marguerite Verne stood in the outer doorway waving adieu and throwing tokens of affection to the two young girls until they had crossed Queen Square and were lost to view.
On returning to her room a formidable array of letters lay awaiting their owner.
A glance at the address of each was sufficient. Marguerite rapidly seized a large square and heavy one from among the number and very soon devoured its contents. It came from "cousin Jennie Montgomery," a genuine and true hearted girl whom Marguerite loved as a sister. Mrs. Montgomery was a sister of Mrs. Verne but never was nature known to indulge in so many freaks as when she bestowed such relationship.
"Gladswood," the comfortable and happy home of the Montgomerys, was indeed no misnomer; for in this beautiful and sylvan retreat every heart was truly made glad and every guest only felt sad when the summons of duty suggested departure.
Marguerite Verne never had too many society demands upon her to neglect correspondence with cousin Jennie, and she was more than delighted on this morning to hear such glowing accounts of "Gladswood" and its inmates. On the situation of this charming country seat we might exhaust pages and never weary of the effort. It stood on a rising knoll surrounded by the picturesque scenery of Sussex Vale. Here was that enchanting beauty of nature in which the most aesthetic soul might revel. In the months of summer the verdure was "a thing of beauty." Luxuriant meadows showered with golden buttercups, alternating with patches of highly-scented red and white clover, while the air seemed freighted with the balsamic odor of the crowning foliage. But the foliage of "Gladswood"! We have no powers capable of description. The majestic maples, stately willows and graceful elms were grouped with an effect that baffled the mind of man. And the interfacings of soft feathery furze, moss and ferns. Surely this spot must have been in the mystic ages one grand amphitheatre for the sylvan deities. And the stately manor-house, for such it much resembles with its quaint wings and irregular outbuildings. Its old-fashioned windows, tall chimneys, projecting eaves and arched doorway have an inviting appearance and impresses one with the fact that there are still some substantial homes—some reminder of the past.