When she finished Leopold said, “Miss Pettengill, if you will put in your book the energetic defence that you have just made, I will withdraw my objections.”

“You will find that and more in the next chapter,” Alice replied.

And the reading was resumed.

The angry, threatening clouds had massed themselves once more; the thunder roared; the lightning flashed and the rain fell in torrents.

Leopold walked to the window and looked out.  “Walking is out of the question,” said he; “will you come for a sail?”

Music filled the evening, and during a lull in the storm the young men reached their lodgings.

Another month had nearly passed.  The weather was much warmer, but there was a great incentive to hard work—­the book was nearly finished.  Quincy had sent down a package of books soon after his return home, and Alice and Rosa had worked even harder than in June.

Another letter went from Miss Very to Mr. Sawyer.  It contained but a few words:  “The book is done.  Miss Pettengill herself wrote the words, ’The end,’ on the last page, signed her name, and dated it ‘July 30, 186—.’  She awaits your verdict.”

The first Sunday in August found the young ladies again expectant.  Once more they sat on a Sunday morning awaiting the advent of their gentlemen friends.  The day was pleasant, but warm.  Soon a voice was heard at the front door.  Both ladies listened intently; but one person, evidently, was coming upstairs.  Alice thought it must be Mr. Sawyer, while Rosa said to herself, “I think it must be Mr. Ernst.”

A light knock, the door was opened and Quincy entered.

Rosa looked up inquiringly.

“Mr. Ernst,” said Quincy, “wished me to present his regrets at not being able to accompany me.  The fact is he will be very busy this coming week.  He is going to try to close up his work, so that he can come down next Saturday.  He intends to take a month’s vacation.  I shall come with him, and we will endeavor to have a fitting celebration of the completion of your book, Miss Pettengill.  You young ladies look very cool and comfortable this hot day.”

They were both dressed in white, Alice with a sash of blue, while Rosa wore one of pink.

“Then we shall have no reading till next Sunday,” remarked Rosa.

“Yes,” said Quincy, seating himself in one of the willow rockers; “we have decided upon the following programme, if it meets with Miss Pettengill’s approval.  I am to listen to the remainder of the book to-day.  I will hand the complete manuscript over to him to-morrow afternoon.  He will then finish the chapters that he has not read and turn the work over to his firm, with his approval, before he comes down for his rest.  If the work is accepted, Mr. Morton, one of the firm, will write him to that effect.”

“The plan is certainly satisfactory to me,” said Alice, “and Miss Very and I will be delighted to contribute our aid to the proposed celebration.”