“We like to hear about it because we’ve been gardening all summer and anything about trees or plants interests us,” explained Tom politely, though the way in which Mary spoke seemed like an attack on Dorothy.

“I’ve always found that everything I ever learned was useful at some time or other,” James maintained decidedly.  “You never can tell when this information that Dorothy has given us may be just what we need for some purpose or other.”

“It served Dorothy’s purpose just now when she interested us for a few minutes telling about the different kinds,” insisted Ethel Blue, but Mary walked on before them with a toss of her head that meant “It doesn’t interest me.”

Dorothy looked at her mother, uncertain whether to take it as a joke or to feel hurt.  Mrs. Smith smiled and shook her head almost imperceptibly and Dorothy understood that it was kindest to say nothing more.

They chatted on as they walked through the Botanical Gardens and exclaimed over the wonders of the hothouses and examined the collections of the Museum, but the edge had gone from the afternoon and they were not sorry to find themselves on the train for Rosemont.  Mary sat with Mrs. Smith.

“I really was interested in what Dorothy told about the pines,” she whispered as the train rumbled on; “I was mad because I didn’t know anything that would interest them, too.”

“I dare say you know a great many things that would interest them,” replied Mrs. Smith.  “Some day you must tell me about the most interesting thing you ever saw in all your life and we’ll see if it won’t interest them.”

“That was in a coal mine,” replied Mary promptly.  “It was the footstep of a man thousands and thousands of years old.  It made you wonder what men looked like and how they lived so long ago.”

“You must tell us all about it, some time.  It will make a good addition to what we learned to-day about the fossils.”

When the Mortons reached home they found Mr. Emerson waiting for them at their house.

“I’ve a proposal to make to these children, with your permission, Marion,” he said to his daughter.

“Say on, sir,” urged Roger.

“Mr. Clark is getting very nervous about this man Hapgood.  The man is beginning to act as if he, as the guardian of the child, had a real claim on the Clark estate, and he becomes more and more irritating every day.  They haven’t heard from Stanley for several days.  He hasn’t answered either a letter or a telegram that his uncle sent him and the old ladies are working themselves into a great state of anxiety over him.  I tell them that he has been moving about all the time and that probably neither the letter nor the wire reached him, but Clark vows that Hapgood has intercepted them and his sisters are sure the boy is ill or has been murdered.”

“Poor creatures,” smiled Mrs. Morton sympathetically.  “Is there anything you can do about it?”