There are many miracles, only we become used to them in time, and forget their   
. We look calmly at the tiny chick pecking its way out of the egg, a 
 
downy thing with bright black eyes and crowded full of lively motion where 
 
only a short while ago there was no more than a and a white with shell to 
 
keep them together. We see a worm turn to a butterfly and go on unconcerned. 
 
We see a baby begin to walk and to talk, and we behave as though that were to 
 
be expected—and so it is, for we live in the midst of marvellous happenings, 
 
as I began by saying.
 
And here were Rose and Ruth in the thick of the miracle of spring. Only 
 
yesterday there was nothing much to speak of. Just a beginning, a hint, a mist 
 
over the trees, a green to the grass. To-day ... what a .
 
Blue-birds were twittering and flying, song-sparrows up. The trees had 
 
brought out leaves and and sweet-smelling fringes. were 
 
burning with yellow and rose, windflowers nodded, and Marmie’s snowdrops and 
 
crocuses were all abloom along the south wall of the house. There was a 
 
quality to the air, and bees hummed. One white butterfly teetered 
 
over the yellowest crocus.
 
The girls were wild for the school hours to pass—Marmie always taught them, 
 
for there was no school within reach—so that they could be out in it all. And 
 
Marmie let them take their and ride over to the little lake with 
 
their rods after .
 
“Be home by sunset, dears,” she had said, “and have a good time. There are 
 
many, many nice things in this old world, but being a child in spring is one 
 
of the best.”
 
They had a wonderful day of it, and each of them had caught plenty of fish, 
 
fine fellows that would make dandy eating for supper. Lunch had been 
 
delicious, and the spring day increasingly beautiful. Now, in the warm, mild 
 
afternoon, they felt lazy.
 
The were cropping the grass, the fish were in the creel, and that was 
 
hung up on the limb of a tree, where it reached the water. Side by side the 
 
sisters lay, their heads resting on their saddles, drinking in the lovely day 
 
through every pore.
 
“Winter’s really gone,” remarked Rose, dreamily. “And what a splendid 
 
winter it’s been, Ruth.”
 
“Yep. We haven’t been a bit lonely this year, just because of Fairy 
 
Honeysqueak. She’s given us a lot of glorious experience, hasn’t she?”
 
“It’s some time since we’ve seen—I mean heard her. I wonder if she isn’t 
 
coming any more, now that spring is here at last? I wish we could at least say 
 
good-bye and thank you, don’t you?”
 
“Then that’s just what you can do,” the silver-sounding voicelet , the 
 
clear and chiming voice they knew and loved so. “For I’m come, and I’m 
 
going to take you one last trip for a sort of farewell, because I’m too busy 
 
now that spring’s here to be able to play any more; and I daresay you’ll not 
 
have any too much time on your hands yourselves.”
 
“Oh, Fairy Honeysqueak, how sweet and kind of you to come once more. We shall 
 
miss you . I guess we are the two luckiest girls in the world to know 
 
you. When it’s cold again and you have nothing to do, perhaps you’ll come 
 
back. Please.”
 
She laughed, and the sound was like the rocking of canterbury-bells atop of 
 
their long stalks, if you could only hear them.
 
“It has been lots of fun for me too, and maybe I’ll see you next year, 
 
though no one can tell about a fairy,” she answered. “Anyway, here we are 
 
now. And now for our last trip. How about going to Quaker-town to see a small 
 
maid called Darthea Penniston?”
 
“What ! And shall we see Hugh Wynne too? And Washington? And....”
 
“I’m sure I don’t know what you’ll see or not see; keep your eyes open, 
 
that’s what they’re for. Except that you must shut them now, and grab my 
 
hands tight....”
 
So that’s what was done, and once more the two felt the singular sensation, 
 
ending in a slight jar, which always accompanied their trips through the Magic 
 
Gate.
 
They found themselves in a garden, very bright and pretty with many flowers 
 
growing in beds bordered by little box hedges and separated by paths of red 
 
brick. A sun-dial was in the centre of the garden, where the paths met, while 
 
at the bottom of the garden ran a clear stream. Willows bowed over this, 
 
dipping the fine long ends of their slender branches in the water. A couple of 
 
benches stood under these trees. On one of these sat a little girl in a rose-
 
pink gown, her hat hanging from her arm by long , a broad-brimmed 
 
leghorn with roses round the brim. She seemed to be studying, for there was a 
 
school book open on her knees.
 
Rose and Ruth were dressed in flowered muslin skirts, very full and reaching 
 
to their boot tops, with bodices of the same pretty stuff having lace 
 
at the neck and elbow sleeves. Over this they each wore a little 
 
. Their shoes were square-toed, with big bright , and they had on 
 
white stockings. Little were tied under their chins.
 
they walked down the sweet-smelling garden path toward the small, 
 
dark-haired maid seated on the bench. She pored over her book, and seemed in 
 
no special good spirits.
 
Just as they were on the point of speaking she looked up. Instantly a smile 
 
flooded her face like sudden sunshine on a dark day.
 
Up she jumped and was beside them in an instant.
 
“So you’ve really come! What good news this will be to Hugh and , for I 
 
have promised them if you came that we will go to Hugh’s house after school; 
 
his mother has told him to bring one or two or his school-mates to play in the 
 
garden this afternoon. And they look forward to meeting you. But we must 
 
hurry, we shall be late else, and there is no knowing what that hateful David 
 
Dove may not do in such a case.”
 
Somewhat to their surprise Rose and Ruth found they had a few books strapped 
 
together under their arms. Evidently school it must be. So with Darthea they 
 
set off, through the gate that opened on a pretty street faced by neat houses, 
 
with porches vine-embowered. Other children, singly and in groups, were 
 
bound the same way with themselves. Many of these were clad in sober grey, 
 
with white kerchiefs worn fichu-wise on the girls, and broad-brimmed Quaker 
 
hats on the boys.
 
“How grown-up they look in those funny clothes,” Ruth whispered to Rose. 
 
“Not at all like children. And how gravely they go along.”
 
Just here two boys, clad like those Ruth was criticising, in full-skirted 
 
coats and breeches reaching to the knee, with shoes and wide-brimmed 
 
hats, sober-hued as mice, came round the corner of another street. When they 
 
saw Darthea and her friends they hastened their steps, and presently bowed 
 
before them gravely.
 
Darthea looked at them shyly under her long black , introducing Rose and 
 
Ruth very , however, in spite of her apparent confusion.
 
“This is Hugh Wynne, and his friend Jack Warner, Rose and Ruth. They are 
 
coming with me to your mother’s after school,” she added, turning to the 
 
boys.
 
“That is fine news,” answered Hugh smiling. “And she will have good cakes 
 
for us, and damson jam, and has promised to play at hide-and-find in the 
 
with us.”
 
“What a dear mother you have, Hugh,” Darthea replied. “She is like one of 
 
us, yet so lovely a lady, too.”
 
Hugh nodded, looking much pleased. By this time the five of them had reached 
 
the school, a brick building rather plain and grim in appearance. The room 
 
where they were to study was long and low, with a huge blackboard at the upper 
 
end, near the master’s desk, and a globe by that. The master himself, a thin 
 
man with a prominent nose on which rested a pair of horn-bowed spectacles, sat 
 
waiting for the feet to be still 279and the children to be seated. 
 
Then he rose and began the afternoon exercises in a high, disagreeable voice.
 
Rose and Ruth looked about them, at the rows of children, girls and 
 
boys, over their and books. When the teacher addressed one of 
 
these he or she stood up, put hands behind back, and answered in the best 
 
manner possible. Often they failed to please the master, however, whereupon he 
 
at them, calling them in front of him to his desk. Once he made a boy 
 
stand up beside his desk with a paper pinned foolscap fashion on his head, at 
 
which the class . But Rose and Ruth felt a helpless anger stir in them. 
 
They forthwith hated David Dove with a very real .
 
Suddenly his eye fell on Ruth, and pointing a long finger at her, he asked her 
 
something in an tone. Confused, she did not catch his meaning.
 
“What did you say, sir?” she asked, her voice trembling a little.
 
“You know very well what I said,” returned the teacher, in a cold, slow way. 
 
“Answer me at once, or ’twill be the worse for you.”
 
Ruth looked helplessly at Rose, who flushed, fire leaping into her eyes.
 
“My sister is not a liar,” she said, addressing the teacher. “She told you 
 
she didn’t hear what you asked her, and she didn’t. Ask it again.”
 
There was a terrified over the school, and 280every eye turned to Rose 
 
and Ruth. As for the teacher, he seemed .
 
Darthea jumped to her feet.
 
“These are friends of mine, sir,” she called out, though her voice shook 
 
more than Ruth’s had done. “They do not know the ways of this school yet, 
 
and have only come this morning for trial.”
 
“Ha,” exclaimed the teacher. “Then, since they are no scholars of mine, and 
 
cannot be punished for this , you will please step up here, Darthea, 
 
and take a whipping for them.”
 
With tears, barely suppressed, Darthea stepped into the and began to 
 
walk toward the desk. for a second, Rose and Ruth stood 
 
motionless. Then they rushed after her, and all three came to halt before the 
 
master.
 
The two sisters were shaking with excitement and anger, so unjust and brutal 
 
the whole thing seemed to them. Looking up into the cold and eyes of 
 
Mr. Dove, Rose spoke.
 
“Do you mean to say you are going to hit her! A man, and ... and ... you 
 
coward!”
 
For Rose had never imagined such a thing as this.
 
And Ruth said too, in a voice that was with emotion, “Yes, you coward.
 
”
 
Darthea looked from one to the other in .
 
Behind them there was a all over the school. rose, and some of 
 
the boys, including Hugh and Jack, stood up. The master 281faced the crowd of 
 
children for an instant, his eyes glittering.
 
“I will take this to your parents,” he said presently, looking icily around 
 
the room. Motioning to the girls, he added, “Sit down.”
 
Silently they returned to their places, though their hearts beat hard for some 
 
time. The hour dragged along, and at last the master rose, dismissing the 
 
school. In a moment every one was outside, crowding round the newcomers.
 
“You’ll catch it yet,” they said. “Wait till he’s had time to think over 
 
what to do.”
 
“Come along,” said Darthea. Hugh and Jack had quickly joined them, and off 
 
they went to Hugh’s big, comfortable house in the midst of its and 
 
gardens. At the garden gate they were met by Mrs. Wynne, lovely in her Quaker 
 
dress, her eyes as blue as lakes, and a smile on the merriest mouth in the 
 
world.
 
“So here you are, the little friends of this boy of mine,” she cried. “And 
 
I have a bite or two of good things out in the garden for you. How went it at 
 
school to-day?”
 
They all told her at once, and she was much interested. “Brave words,” she 
 
said, “and brave behaviour too. And now let us forget all about this unkind 
 
Dove, who has the heart of a , methinks.”
 
As they went into the garden, where under a sort of summer-house was set a 
 
table looking most loaded, she told them that Hugh’s 282father was 
 
at a friend’s house talking over the troubles between the Colonies and 
 
England.
 
“Colonel Washington and his lady are in town, up from Virginia on a visit, 
 
and the Colonel is pressing for some decisive action, so I heard your father 
 
say, Hugh. Naturally he is not too pleased at this, being a man of peace.”
 
“George Washington near here!” It was Rose who ejaculated these words, while 
 
Ruth stood rooted, her eyes fairly .
 
“Yes,” returned Mrs. Wynne, calmly, and turning to Hugh, “your father 
 
thinks him a dangerous man, my son.”
 
............