“Wait a little longer,” counselled Uncle Timothy.  “Your strength is more that of happiness than of real physical gain, though you are certainly acquiring health rapidly.  There will be plenty of hot weather in August, and you will be better fit to exert yourself.”

Max and Alec backed him, for they were still more or less indifferent to the charms of active exercise, and when they had been fed, each evening, were in the habit of falling into postures of ease on the ground before the tent, while they discussed the happenings of the day.

At the end of another fortnight, however, everybody admitted that Sally seemed enough like herself to be permitted the mild dissipation of a tent party, and she proceeded joyfully to plan for the occasion.

“Alec and Bob will have to sleep outside,” she decided.

“Thank you, not for me!” said Alec.

“Oh, don’t go and be a spoil-sport now, Al!” cried Bob.  “I’d a good deal rather sleep outdoors than not.”

“You have my permission,” rejoined Alec.

“I will sleep out-doors, with pleasure,” said Uncle Timothy.

“Never, if I give you my room!” and Sally looked indignant.

“I should enjoy it,” Mr. Rudd insisted.  “This out-door life has renewed my youth.  If the weather is favourable during your friends’ visit you can count on having my room for them.”

Of course Alec could not allow such a reversal of the natural order of things, and he announced the fact with firmness mixed with irritation.  Uncle Timothy, however, also persisted, went into town and bought a hammock, and returning hung it under the trees.

Sally, with the help of Mary Ann, did considerable preliminary baking, and the Ferrys, hearing of the coming event, contributed a large basketful of garden produce.  Sally, running over to thank Mrs. Ferry, told her all about her plans.  She had already grown very fond of the little lady, whose happiness at being with her son, after a long period of separation from him, made her a cheery companion.

“I hope you and Mr. Ferry will come over this evening,” urged Sally.  “We want to make it a jolly time for our friends, and I’m sure you’ll enjoy knowing Mrs. Burnside.”

“Mother’s a little shy,” said a voice from behind Mrs. Ferry, who stood in the small porch, looking down at her visitor.  Sally, in a crisp frock of white with tiny black figures, her sunny head uplifted, and her cheeks now round and rosy with returning health, looked past Mrs. Ferry’s shoulder, smiling.  “She is decidedly modest about showing off before people, but she could entertain your guests quite by herself, if she would.”

“Donald!” The small lady faced about, as her son’s arm came round her shoulders.  “What an idea!”

“She’s the finest reader in the state,” asserted the young man.  “She’s a scholar, she’s—­”

“Donald, you will lose your car!”

“She taught me all I know, and a great deal more that I don’t know, because my head wouldn’t hold it.