The Roman Emperor

The late August days came relentlessly on, each in turn being seized by the Vigilantes and placed in a treasure-house of never-to-be-forgotten joys. The month which they had planned in June was lengthening into six weeks. Mr. Hunter and Virginia had insisted and Aunt Nan seemed very loath to go. Already they were quite Westernized. They "rustled" and "cached" and "packed" things without even stopping to think, and r's were unmistakably creeping into Priscilla's strictly Bostonian speech. What would the Winthrop family say?

Every day the country grew lovelier. A veil of bronze and purple was being laid softly over the foot-hills, and the waiting wheat stood golden. Day after day the sun rose in glory, and after a cloudless journey set in a golden sea. In the woods the berries of the kinnikinnick grew red, and on the lawn the mountain ash trees stood clothed in holiday attire. The air was clear and bracing; the nights were cold. One morning the highest mountain was white with snow, which, when the sun rose higher, hurried away, as though it had told a secret. September was on the way, and these were her forerunners.

"I never supposed," announced Priscilla one morning at breakfast, "that weeks could go so fast. It makes old age seem awfully close. And still I know how slowly they go sometimes, like January at St. Helen's, for instance. Just sixteen more days, and we'll be going back East, Virginia. Dad says if I'm not back by the tenth, they'll motor to the White Mountains without me. I'm afraid I can't help feeling superior when I view the White Mountains after seeing these!"