Mrs. Parton laughed to herself as she went back to the house, “Do you suppose that is why he is coming?  Goodness!  I wish the colonel was here.”

The news was discussed all over town that Monday morning.

“What brings Dr. Hollingsworth here?” Dr. Barnes asked, meeting Colonel Parton in the bank.  “He is a friend of the Whittredges, I understand.  Anyway, it is a compliment to Friendship.”

“Friendship is a great place.  He liked our looks when he was here a month or so ago,” and the colonel laughed his easy laugh.

“More than likely he thinks we need a little stirring up,” Mr. Roberts remarked from his desk.

“Did you hear the joke on my Belle?” the colonel asked, and proceeded to relate the story of the supposed detective and the photograph.

The Arden Foresters in their turn talked it over that afternoon, sitting in a row near the red oak, which lavished badges of crimson and gold upon them now.  The October air was delicious.  They had raced up the hill and down to the landing and back again, for pure joy of moving in the sparkling atmosphere.

“I have something to tell you,” Rosalind announced.  “You must all come to church next Sunday, for our president is going to preach.”

“Is that what you have to tell? because I knew it already,” said Belle, whose cheeks matched the oak leaf she was pinning on her jacket.

“No, it is something even better than that.  I have a letter to read to you.”  As she spoke, Rosalind tossed a handful of leaves at Maurice.

“That’s right, wake the professor up,” cried Jack, following her example.

“Or bury him,” said Belle, joining the onslaught.

Maurice, who had been gazing rather absently into the distance, was aroused to defend himself, and the battle resolved itself into a hand-to-hand combat between the two boys.

Maurice’s crutch had been discarded, and his knee was almost as strong as ever, although rough sports, such as foot-ball, were still denied him.  He had recently arrived at the dignity of long trousers, being tall for his age, and Jack had immediately nicknamed him “the professor.”

“Now, boys, that is enough,” Rosalind said, with decision; “Maurice is waked up, I think.”

“Am I awake, or not?” Maurice demanded of the struggling Jack, as he held him down and sat upon him.

“Mercy, yes!” Jack cried, freeing himself with a mighty effort.  “But you must smile; I can’t have you looking so melancholy. Smile!”

In spite of himself Maurice obeyed the command.

“That’s right; now sit down and behave,” Jack added, laughing.

Rosalind took out her letter.  “Listen,” she said:—­

“MY DEAR ROSALIND:  I am coming back to Friendship in a few days, and I want to ask if the Arden Foresters will admit a new member to their circle?  I am greatly interested in what I have heard of it.  I have been travelling in the Forest for a good many years, with just an occasional lapse into the desert, but I should like the right to wear an oak leaf and have my name in the Arden Foresters’ book, on the page with the magician’s.

“Hoping that this is not asking too much, I am