Aunt Martha had already learned to like good, sensible Ellen, and she replied cordially; so a telegram went back by the messenger boy, and Faith and Gladys both jumped up and down with pleasure at the prolonging of the visit.  Ernest looked pleased, too.  In spite of Gladys’s rather languid, helpless ways, he admired her very much; so the children scampered away, being left this time on a chair in the parlor.

“Do you like turtles?” asked Faith of the guest.

“I don’t know,” returned Gladys.

“Didn’t you ever see any?” asked Ernest in astonishment.

“I don’t believe so.”

“Then come on!” cried the boy, with a joyous whoop.  “We’ll go turtle-hunting.”

Gladys skipped along with them until they reached the brook.

“Now Ernest will walk on that side of the water,” said Faith, “and you and I will go on this.”

“But what are we going to do?”

“Watch for turtles.  You’ll see.”

Ernest jumped across the brook.  Gladys walked along the soft grass behind Faith, and the bubbling little stream swirled around its stones and gently bent its grasses as it ran through the meadow.

In a minute Faith’s practiced eye caught sight of a dark object on a stone directly in front of them.

It was a turtle sunning himself.  His black shell was covered with bright golden spots, and his eyes were blinking slowly in the warm light.

“Quick, Ernest!” cried Faith, for it was on his side.

He sprang forward, but not quickly enough.  The turtle had only to give one vigorous push of his hind feet and, plump, he fell into the water.  Instantly the brook became muddy at that point, for Mr. Turtle knew that he must be a very busy fellow if he escaped from the eager children who were after him.

He burrowed into the soft earth while Ernest and Faith threw themselves flat on their stomachs.  Gladys opened her brown eyes wide to see her cousins, their sleeves stripped up, plunging their hands blindly about hoping to trap their reluctant playfellow.

Ernest was successful, and bringing up the muddy turtle, soused him in the water until his golden spots gleamed again.

“Hurrah!” cried Faith, “we have him.  Let me show him to Gladys, please, Ernest,” and the boy put the turtle into the hand stretched across to him.

As soon as the creature found that kicking and struggling did not do any good, it had drawn head, legs, and tail into its pretty shell house.

Faith put him into Gladys’s hand, but the little city girl cried out and dropped him on the grass.

“Oh, excuse me,” laughed Faith.  “I thought you wanted to see it.”

“I do, but I don’t believe I want to touch it.”

“Why, they’re the dearest, cleanest things,” said Faith, and picking up the turtle she showed her cousin its pretty under shell of cream color and black, and the round splashes of gold on its black back.