“Oh, they’re messing about somewhere in the garden.  You see, they’ve got to keep out of sight or Father will set them to work to roll the lawn.  He always does that sort of thing.  He calls it ’turning our youthful energies to good account.’” Very suddenly and wickedly Grade mimicked the pastoral tones.  “But the boys call it ‘nigger-driving,’” she added, “and I think the boys are right.  When I’m grown up, I’ll never, never, never make my children do horrid things like that.  They shall have—­oh, such a good time!”

There was unconscious pathos in the declaration.  Avery looked at the bright face very tenderly.

“I wonder what you’ll do with them when they’re naughty, Gracie,” she said.

“I shall never whip them,” said Gracie decidedly.  “I think whipping is a horrid punishment.  It makes you hate everybody.  I think I shan’t punish them at all, Mrs. Denys.  I shall just tell them how wrong they’ve been, and that they are never to do it again.  And I’m sure they won’t,” she added, with confidence.  “They’ll love me too much.”

She slipped her arm round Avery’s waist as she rose.  “Do you know I would dreadfully like to call you Aunt Avery?” she said.  “I said so to Jeanie, and Jeanie wants to too.  Do you mind?”

“Mind!” said Avery.  “I shall love it.”

“Oh, thank you—­awfully!” Grade kissed her fervently.  “I’ll run and tell Jeanie.  She will be pleased.”

She skipped from the room, and Avery went to prepare for the walk.  “Poor little souls!” she murmured to herself.  “How I wish they were mine!”

They mustered only five when they started—­the three girls, Pat, and Avery herself; but ere they had reached the end of the lane the two elder boys leapt the Vicarage wall with a whoop of triumph and joined them.  The party became at once uproariously gay.  Everyone talked at the same time, even Jeanie becoming animated.  Avery rejoiced to see the pretty face flushed and merry.  She had begun to feel twinges of anxiety about Jeanie lately.  But she was able to banish them at least for to-day, for Jeanie ran and chattered with the rest.  In fact, Olive was the only one who showed any disposition to walk sedately.  It had to be remembered that Olive was the clever one of the family.  She more closely resembled her father than any of the others, and Avery firmly believed her to be the only member of the family that Mr. Lorimer really loved.  She was a cold-hearted, sarcastic child, extremely self-contained, giving nothing and receiving nothing in return.  It was impossible to become intimate with her.  Avery had given up the attempt almost at the outset, realizing that it was not in Olive’s nature to be intimate with anyone.  They were always exceedingly polite to each other, but beyond that their acquaintance made no progress.  Olive lived in a world of books, and the practical side of life scarcely touched her, and most certainly never appealed to her sympathy.  “She will be her father over again,” Mrs. Lorimer would declare, with pathetic pride.  “So dignified, so handsome, and so clever!”