“You never heard me, did you, till I was close by?  You’re going to the party, of course, Cynthy?”

“No, Lulu,” was the sad answer.  “There are new boarders coming, and Aunt Kate cannot do without me.”

“I never heard of such a thing!” cried eleven-year old Lulu.  “Not going!  Cannot do without you!  Why, Cynthy, it will be just splendid:  tennis and croquet and games, and supper in a tent! ice cream and everything nice, and a birthday cake with a ring, and twelve candles on it.  And there are to be musicians out of doors, and fireworks in the evening.  Why, there are men hanging the lanterns in the trees now—­to see where they ought to be hung, I suppose,” said practical Lulu.  “Not let you go?  I’m sure she will, if I ask her.”  Lulu started bravely for the house, intent on pleading for her friend.

But Cynthia called her back.  “Don’t go, Lulu, dear.  Aunt Kate is very busy this morning.  She does not think I care so much, and she won’t like it either, if she thinks I’m spending my time talking with you, when the beans ought to be on the fire.  A bean dinner,” observed Cynthia, wisely, “takes so long to get ready.”

“Does it?” said Lulu, beginning to pick with all her might.  She was a sweet little thing, and she hated to have her friend left out of the good time.

As for Cynthia, the sunbonnet fell back on her neck, showing a pair of soft eyes swimming with tears, and a sorrowful little mouth quivering in its determination not to cry.

“I won’t be a baby!” she said to herself, resolutely.  Presently there came a sharp call from the house.

“Cynthia Elizabeth! are you never coming with those beans?  Make haste, child, do?”

Aunt Kate said “Cynthia Elizabeth” only when her patience was almost gone; so, with a quick answer, “Yes, Aunt Kate, I’m coming,” Cynthia left Lulu and ran back to the buttery, sitting down, as soon as she reached it, to the weary task of stringing the beans.

Lulu, meanwhile, who was an idle little puss—­her mother’s pet—­sauntered up the road and met Effie Dean’s mother, who was driving by herself, and had stopped to gather some late wild roses.

“If there isn’t Lulu Pease!” she said.  “Lulu dear, won’t you get those flowers for me?  Thank you so much.  And you’re coming this afternoon?”

“Yes, ’m,” said Lulu, with a dimple showing itself in each plump cheek; “but I’m so very sorry, Mrs. Dean, that my dearest friend, Cynthy Mason, has to stay at home.  Her Aunt Kate can’t spare her.  Cynthy never can go anywhere nor do anything like the rest of us.”

“Cynthia Mason?  That’s the pretty child with the pale face and dark eyes who sits in the pew near the minister’s, isn’t it?” said Mrs. Dean.  “Why, she must not stay at home to-day.”  And acting on a sudden impulse, the lady said good morning to Lulu, took a brisk turn along the road and back, and presently drew rein at Mr. Mason’s door.