Edna stood with her arm still around her mother's neck. This was rather a new thought. Once her mother had been a little girl like her, of course, and had stood by her mother's side just like this, and now she was living in quite a different home. Edna tried to imagine how it would seem to come back to this, her childhood's home, from one of her very own, but it was entirely too difficult a matter so she gave it up and went back to her paper. But in a few minutes, the pictures on the page before her became pictures of Overlea. She was taking the spring-house key to old Nathan Keener that he might unlock his door and let out the white kitten. Then she was half conscious of hearing a voice say: "No, never mind; she is all tired out; I'll carry her up." Then she was helped to her feet, a pair of strong arms lifted her up, and she was borne up the stairs. She hardly knew who undressed her and stowed her away in bed. She felt a soft kiss on her cheek and then she sank into a deep slumber. The dear little girl's Thanksgiving holidays were over.