And Avery agreed, not without reserve, that she certainly resembled him to a marked degree.

She was by far the most sober member of the party that entered Rodding Park that afternoon.  Avery, inspired by the merriment around her, was in a frankly frivolous mood.  She was fast friends with the two elder boys, who had voted her a brick on the night that she had intervened to deliver them from the just retribution for their misdeeds.  They had conceived an immense admiration for her which placed her in a highly privileged position.

“If Mrs. Denys says so, it is so,” was Ronald’s fiat, and she knew that such influence as he possessed with his brothers and sisters was always at her disposal.

She liked Ronald.  The boy was a gentleman.  Though slow, he was solid; and she suspected that he possessed more depth of character than the more brilliant Julian.  Julian was crafty; there was no denying it.  She was sure that he would get on in the world.  But of Ronald’s future she was not so sure.  It seemed to her that he might plod on for ever without reaching his goal.  He kept near her throughout that riotous scamper through the bare, wind-swept Park, making it plain that he regarded himself as her lieutenant whether she required his services or not.  As a matter of fact, she did not require them, but she was glad to have him there and she keenly appreciated the gentlemanly consideration with which he helped her over every stile.

They reached the high hill of Gracie’s desire, and rapidly climbed it.  The sun had passed over to the far west and had already begun to dip ere they reached the summit.

“Now we’ll all stand in a row and race down,” announced Gracie, when they reached the top.  “Aunt Avery will start us.  We’ll run as far as that big oak-tree on the edge of the wood.  Now line up, everybody!”

“I’m not going to do anything so silly,” said Olive decidedly.  “Mrs. Denys and I will follow quietly.”

“Oh no!” laughed Avery.  “You can do the starting, my dear, and I will race with the others.”

Olive looked at her, faintly contemptuous.  “Oh, of course if you prefer it—­” she said.

“I do indeed!” Avery assured her.  “But I think the two big boys and I ought to be handicapped.  Jeanie and Gracie and Pat must go ten paces in front.”

“I am bigger than Gracie and Pat,” said Jeanie.  “I think I ought to go midway.”

“Of course,” agreed Ronald.  “And, Aunt Avery, you must go with her.  You can’t start level with Julian and me.”

Avery laughed at the amendment and fell in with it.  They adjusted themselves for the trial of speed, while Olive stationed herself on a mole-hill to give the signal.

The valley below them was in deep shadow.  The last of the sunlight lay upon the hilltop.  It shone dazzlingly in Avery’s eyes as the race began.

There had been a sprinkling of snow the day before, and the grass was crisp and rough.  She felt it crush under her feet with a keen sense of enjoyment.  Instinctively she put all her buoyant strength into the run.  She left Jeanie behind, overtook and passed the two younger children, and raced like a hare down the slope.  Keenly the wind whistled past her, and she rejoiced to feel its clean purity rush into her lungs.  She was for the moment absurdly, rapturously happy,—­a child amongst children.