Indeed, she had so grown into the life of the home in the city that it never occurred to her that she might not always be there, or that there was anything else for her to do. She loved them all and they loved her and wanted her. It was her home, as much as if she had been born there. That was the whole story. She loved them all, she loved the life they led, the friends they had, the concerts and lectures they attended, the beautiful summers at the seashore and mountains. She loved the church in which they had their affiliations, and she rejoiced that her lot had fallen in such pleasant places.

During those years she had seen very little of her first home, and had gradually grown farther and farther from both father and brothers until they seemed more like distant relatives than her own blood. They seldom came to see her, and her life was so full and so happy that she had little time to go to them or even to think about them.

The last time she had seen her father he had asked her how she would like to come home and keep house for him, and she shuddered inwardly at the very thought, although she told him gaily how impossible it was. That was three months ago. Her father had sighed and looked old. His breath smelled of liquor, and he was continually smoking an ugly little black pipe. She shrank from him as if he had not been her father. Uncle James was not like that. He was pleasant, and he never drank. She tried to forget her father as much as possible. As for her brothers she scarcely felt they belonged to her, even distantly. And the days had been so full and so happy that it had been easy to forget.

The sun was shining brightly and the breakfast was very festive. Waffles and honey and strawberries, and all the talk ran upon last night—what this one and that one had said about Elsie. Uncle James even had a word to quote from Professor Bowen.

“He called you the Honor Girl, Elsie!” he said. “I must say when he got done praising you, I began to feel honored that I belonged to you. Why, according to your principal, you have taken the cake—with all the frosting—away from everyone else in town.”

There was a merry twinkle in her uncle’s eyes, but she knew that behind all his teasing there was a loving pride in her accomplishments, and her heart swelled with joy. She felt that this was a glorious day, the crown of all the days that had passed before.

The girls had planned to play tennis at the country club that morning, so after breakfast was over and her uncle had gone down to his office, they went up to their rooms to dress for their game.

“Elsie,” called Katharine from her room, “did you find that book of poems yet? I simply have to have it for tomorrow. I promised Miss Keith I would bring it to Sunday school. She wants to quote it in an article she’s writing, and she needs to send it off Monday.”

“No, Katharine,” said Elsie, “I didn’t find it. But I’m afraid I must have left it out at Father’s house”—she always spoke of her former home as “Father’s house” now—“I remember I was learning a poem out of it the last time I went out there, and I’m sure I left it up on my little old bureau. Oh, that’s easy. I’ll run out there right after the game.”

“But the concert! You’ll be late for the concert I’m afraid. Those trolleys are so slow! What a pity Daddy had to use the car this morning! We could have gone out in no time.”

“It won’t take me long if I go right in on the bus from the Club House. Don’t worry! I’ll get it for you, kitten,” said Elsie cheerfully. She felt she could do almost anything today, she was so very happy.

In her pretty little sports dress of white jersey trimmed with jade and a close white felt hat, she started out with her cousins, Katharine in pink and Bettina in pale blue, their rackets under their arms, and happiness on their faces. Elsie also carried a book to read on her long ride out to Morningside where her father’s house was located.

“We’d go with you,” said Katharine, “only Mamma said we had to finish those things for the bazaar this morning or we couldn’t go to the concert, you know—” said Bettina wistfully as they parted at the corner where the bus line and trolley crossed.

“Oh, surely!” said Elsie.