There was no lying abed for Ellen the next morning. There were things to be done, and to be done quickly, so she lost no time in getting ready immediately after breakfast to go to her cousin’s house.

“I don’t see why you are in such a hurry,” complained Caro. “If you will wait a while, I can go with you. Mother wants to try on the dress I am to wear to Florence’s party this evening. Of course you will go, Ellen.”

“Oh, but I am not invited.”

“That is because Florence didn’t know you would be here. When she knows you are visiting me of course she will expect you.”

Ellen shook her head. “I don’t think so. Moreover, I really don’t feel in the humor for going; I am tired after all the excitement of the past week.”

“Well, maybe you’ll change your mind before night. I do want you to go with me.”

Ellen did not reply, but hurried off. It was a crisp, bright morning. Snow, which had fallen a few days before, still lay in little heaps on the spots untouched by the sun. As Ellen turned the key in the door Wipers bounded to meet her from a warm corner where he had been curled up. She stooped to stroke him, and then entered the chilly house. It was very still and desolate, windows barred and lower rooms dark. Ellen did not tarry on the lower floor, but mounted the stairs to her own room, leaving her violin on the hall table.

How cold and silent it was, yet the sun was streaming in, and, as she looked around at the familiar objects, she realized that this was home and that she was glad to get back to it. She busied herself for a time in putting together the things Miss Rindy had asked for, and when these were ready she went back to her own room, took out her writing materials, and sat thoughtfully looking out the window. She had kept on her coat, so she decided that she would not take cold if she remained long enough to write the note, which was an important one. How should she begin it? Should she say “My dear Reed,” “Dear Cronine,” or “My dear Mr. Marshall”? Finally she decided that as this was a strictly business matter she would best be as formal as possible; therefore she wrote:

“My dear Mr. Marshall:

“If you were in earnest about wanting my father’s violin if I ever wished to part with it, I am ready to offer it to you. The hole is quite a deep one, otherwise I could not think of giving up dear Mr. Barstow’s Christmas gift; you remember that he said I could sell it if ever I was in a hole, so I must do it now.”

She read over carefully what she had written, and then added:

“Please don’t think you must take the violin if you don’t want it. Perhaps you spoke on the spur of the moment, and didn’t really mean me to take you seriously.”

She hesitated a moment before signing her name. Then she slipped the note into the envelope, and began the address: “Mr. Reed Marshall.” Suddenly she realized that she did not know where the young man lived. “I shall have to send it in Mr. Barstow’s care,” she soliloquized, “and I ought to write to him and explain. It wouldn’t do to sell his gift without telling him why I am doing it.”

She wrote another note, enclosed the one to Reed, and felt that the matter was concluded. “It can go off in the evening mail, and he should get it to-morrow,” she told herself. “I should have an answer in a few days.”

By this time her fingers were stiff with cold, and, as there was no reason why she should linger, she hurried off, bearing the bag containing her cousin’s belongings and her violin. The latter she wanted to show to Jeremy Todd, but just as she was about to turn in at his gate she saw him ahead of her, and hastened to catch up with him. This, however, she did not do till he had reached the church, where he turned in.

Ellen was right at his heels as he fitted the big key in the door. “Happy New Year, Mr. Jeremy Todd!” she greeted him.

He flung open the door, and held out both hands. “Well, this is a surprise,” he cried. “When did you get in? Have you seen Rindy? How is she?”

“I got in yesterday and went right out to the hospital. Cousin Rindy is doing as well as one could expect, but of course she worries. May I come in with you? I have such a lot to tell you, and I want to consult you about something. You know I am nothing if not a consulter.”

“Come right in and tell me all about it. We certainly have missed you, child. It made me feel very lonesome to see the house next door shut up and deserted.”

They entered the church and seated themselves near the organ. Then Ellen poured forth her tale, concluding with: “So, you see, Mr. Todd, here is my chance to do something for Cousin Rindy, something really worth while. Of course I am sorry to give up dear Daddy’s violin, but I am not used yet to owning it, so it is better to give it up before it becomes harder to do. It will be a comfort to think that it is in the hands of one who will treasure it, that is, if he really does want it. Besides, I am not expecting to be a violinist.”

“And this young man is?”

“Why, he must be of a sort, although he is studying to be an artist he told me. Funny I never thought to ask him to try the violin again. I saw him only once, you know. I want you to try it and tell me what you think of it.” She took it from its case and handed it over to him.

He handled it reverently, tuned it, and played a few measures. “It is a very fine instrument,” he assured her, “and should be worth a big price.”

“As much as a hundred dollars?” asked Ellen eagerly.

“It is worth more, though perhaps you may not get anything beyond that. I wish it were my privilege to afford to buy it.”

“But you will keep it for me, won’t you, till Reed wants it? I would be so glad if you would take charge of it.”

“Why not keep it yourself?”

Ellen shook her head. “No, the longer I have it the harder it will be to part with it. I know it will be safe in your hands, and perhaps you will like to play on it sometimes.”

“That I surely will. This Mr. Barstow of whom you speak, is his name Peter, by any chance?”

“It is indeed, and he knows you. He was so glad when I could tell him about you; said he was going to write to you.”

“My old friend, Don Pedro; well, well.”

“Oh, do you call him that? So did Daddy, and I do when I am with him. Reed calls him Uncle Pete. Isn’t it funny that Reed’s father and mine both were what Mr. Barstow calls old cronies, and Reed says I am a cronette and he is a cronine in consequence. He is a very ridiculous person.”

Mr. Todd looked at her thoughtfully. “And you like him very much, this lad?”

“I liked him with a black face; I don’t know how much I should like him with a white one. Probably he will seem quite a different person. I must run along now, or Caro will think I am lost. I shall see you soon again, I hope.”

“We begin our organ lessons again on Saturday, don’t we?”

“That’s up to you, Mr. Music Master.”

“Then by all means. I shall want your report of the sale of your violin as soon as you have it.”

“That you shall.” She left him softly playing upon the violin, and went on to mail her note. “It’s just as well that it is addressed to Don Pedro,” she said to herself, “otherwise Mrs. Perry would be consumed with curiosity to know who my new correspondent might be. She keeps a mental list of all my other ones, I am sure.”

Caro was just stepping out of the completed party frock when Ellen came into the room where she was. “What a time you have been,” she exclaimed. “You haven’t been shut up in that cold house all this time, I hope.”

“Well, no; I was at the church with Mr. Todd part of the time, and I went to the post-office to mail a letter.”

“Frank Ives has been trying to get you on the ’phone. He has called up two or three times.”

“What did he want?”

“He wouldn’t leave his message, although I tried to get him to. He said he must speak to you himself, and that he would come around before one o’clock, so don’t run off again.”

Ellen’s only response was: “How pretty your dress is, Caro. It is mighty becoming, too. You’ll be the belle of the ball.”

“Not if you are there.”

“Which I shall not be, and it is nonsense to say I would be a belle if I were there. Florence would see to it that I played the part of wall flower.”

“I’d like to see her try, then; not with Frank and Clyde and the other boys there. You are not going to be so cruel as to refuse to go, Ellen, when you know how disappointed I shall be, not to mention several others. You can wear your lovely crêpe de Chine that you look so perfectly dear in.”

Just here a big red car dashed up to the door and Frank Ives sprang out. “I can’t go down,” declared Caro. “He wants to see you anyway, and I am not dressed. Go along.”

There was nothing left to do but go, which Ellen did half reluctantly. For some reason she didn’t care to see Frank just then. It was evident, however, that he very much wanted to see her. “I came to apologize,” were his first words. “Flo didn’t know you were here till I told her, so that explains why you haven’t received an invitation to her party. If you don’t mind the informality of it, I am the bearer of a verbal invitation which we hope you will accept. I want to come for you, and please give me as many dances as you can. Please don’t say No. You will spoil my evening if you do.”

With two persons asserting that the evening would be spoiled for them if she refused to attend the party, Ellen was obliged to give in, and sent Frank off in high feather. If she had but known, the invitation was entirely due to the stand he took in the matter, for he announced that he would not appear unless Ellen were there. “I’ll go and spend the evening with her,” he declared to his sister, “so count me out, Miss Snobby.”

“I think you are perfectly horrid,” pouted Florence. “It’s my party, and I reckon I can invite who I choose.”

“So you can,” retorted Frank, “but allee samee you can count me out, and I’d advise you to give an hour’s study to your grammar before you mingle in society.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Florence returned. “I reckon I can talk as good grammar as you or any of the boys.”

Frank shrugged his shoulders and lifted his eyebrows as he turned to walk away. He had not reached the door before Florence called him back. “I never can have my own way,” she fumed. “What is it you want me to do?”

“I want you to give me leave to invite Ellen in your name. I can make it all right with her,............