[Illustration: "SHE FED THE GOLD-FISH, ... SHE TRIED AMUSEMENTS OFVARIOUS SORTS, BUT NONE SEEMED TO INTEREST HER. "

_Busy Days. _ _Page_ 144]

 MARJORIE'S BUSY DAYS

 BY CAROLYN WELLS

 AUTHOR OF THE "PATTY" BOOKS

 GROSSET & DUNLAP PUBLISHERS NEW YORK

 Made in the United States of America

 Copyright, 1906 By DODD, MEAD & COMPANY Published, October, 1908

CONTENTS

 CHAPTER PAGE

 I A JOLLY GOOD GAME 1

 II AN EXASPERATING GUEST 15

 III PICNIC PLANS 28

 IV AN OURDAY 43

 V A NOVEL PICNIC 55

 VI THE FIRST DAY OF SCHOOL 72

 VII THE JINKS CLUB 84

 VIII SPELLING TROUBLES 99

 IX A REAL ADVENTURE 114

 X IN INKY PLIGHT 130

 XI THE HALLOWE'EN PARTY 143

 XII TOTTY AND DOTTY 159

 XIII A FAIR EXCHANGE? 172

 XIV A NOBLE SOCIETY 190

 XV DISTURBED CITIZENS 204

 XVI ROSY POSY'S CHOICE 220

 XVII A SUBSTITUTE GUEST 235

 XVIII THANKSGIVING DAY 252

 XIX A SPOOL OF YARNS 265

 XX THE CHARITY BAZAAR 278

CHAPTER I

A JOLLY GOOD GAME

"What do you say, King, railroad smash-up or shipwreck?"

"I say shipwreck, with an _awfully_ desert island. "

"I say shipwreck, too, " said Kitty, "but I don't want to swim ashore. "

"All right, " agreed Marjorie, "shipwreck, then. I'll get the cocoanuts. "

"Me, too, " chimed in Rosy Posy. "Me tumble in the wet water, too!"

The speakers in this somewhat enigmatical conversation were the fourMaynard children, and they were deciding on their morning's occupation. It was a gorgeous day in early September. The air, without being toocool, was just crisp enough to make one feel energetic, though indeedno special atmospheric conditions were required to make the fourMaynards feel energetic. That was their normal state, and if they werespecially gay and lively this morning, it was not because of the brisk, breezy day, but because they were reunited after their summer'sseparation. 

Though they had many friends among the neighboring children, theMaynards were a congenial quartette, and had equally good times playingby themselves or with others. Their home occupied a whole block in theprettiest residence part of Rockwell, and the big square house sat inthe midst of about seven acres of lawn and garden. 

There were many fine old trees, grassy paths, and informal flower-beds, and here the children were allowed to do whatever they chose, butoutside the place, without permission, they must not go. 

There was a playground, a tennis court, and a fountain, but better thanthese they liked the corner full of fruit trees, called "the orchard, "and another corner, where grapes grew on trellises, called "thevineyard. " The barn and its surroundings, too, often proved attractive, for the Maynards' idea of playing were by no means confined to quiet ordecorous games. 

The house itself was surrounded by broad verandas, and on the southernone of these, in the morning sunshine, the four held conclave. 

Kingdon, the eldest, was the only boy, and oftener than not his will waslaw. But this was usually because he had such splendid ideas about gamesand how to play them, that his sisters gladly fell in with his plans. 

But Marjorie was not far behind her brother in ingenuity, and when theyall set to work, or rather, set to play, the games often became veryelaborate and exciting. "Shipwreck" was always a favorite, because itcould develop in so many ways. Once they were shipwrecked no rescue waspossible, unless help appeared from some unexpected quarter. It might bea neighbor's child coming to see them, or it might be a servant, or oneof their own parents, but really rescued they must be by actualoutsiders. Unless, indeed, they could build a raft and save themselves, but this they had never accomplished. 

The desert island was selected, and this time they chose a certaingrassy knoll under an immense old maple tree. 

Marjorie disappeared in the direction of the kitchen, and, after a time, came back with a small basket, apparently well-filled. 

With this she scampered away to the "desert island, " and soon returned, swinging the empty basket. Tossing this into the house, she announcedthat she was ready. 

Then the four went to the big, double, wooden swing, and got in. 

Kitty carried her doll, Arabella, from which she was seldom separated, and Rosy Posy hugged her big white Teddy Bear, who was named Boffin andwho accompanied the baby on all expeditions. 

The swing, to-day, was an ocean steamer. 

"Have your tickets ready!" called out Kingdon, as his passengers swarmedup the gangplank, which he had thoughtfully laid from the ground to thelow step of the swing. 

Soon they were all on board, the gangplank drawn in, and the shipstarted. 

At first all went smoothly. The swing swayed gently back and forth, andthe passengers admired the beautiful scenery on either side. TheCaptain had never crossed an ocean, and the nearest he had come to ithad been a sail up the Hudson and a trip to Coney Island. His localcolor, therefore, was a bit mixed, but his passengers were none thewiser, or if they were, they didn't care. 

"On the right, we see West Point!" the Captain shouted, pointing totheir own house. "That's where the soldiers come from. The noblesoldiers who fight for the land of the free and the home of the brave. "

"Are you a soldier, sir?" asked Marjorie. 

"Yes, madam; I am a veteran of the Civil War. But as there's no fightingto do now, I run this steamer. "

"A fine ship it is, " observed Kitty. 

"It is that! No finer craft sails the waves than this. "

"What is that mountain in the distance?" asked Marjorie, shading hereyes with her hand as she looked across the street. 

"That's a--a peak of the Rockies, ma'am. And now we are passing thefamous statue of 'Liberty Enlightening the World. '"

As the statue to which Kingdon pointed was really Mrs. Maynard, who hadcome out on the veranda, and stood with her hand high against a post, the children shouted with laughter. 

But this was quickly suppressed, as part of the fun of making-believewas to keep grave about it. 

"Is your daughter ill, madam?" asked Marjorie of Kitty, whose doll hungover her arm in a dejected way. 

"No, indeed!" cried Kitty, righting poor Arabella. "She is as well asanything. Only she's a little afraid of the ocean. It seems to begetting rougher. "

It did seem so. The swing was not only going more rapidly, but wasjoggling from side to side. 

"Don't be alarmed, ladies, " said the gallant Captain; "there's nodanger, I assure you. "

"I'm not afraid of the sea, " said Marjorie, "as much as I am of thatfearful wild bear. Will he bite?"

"No, " said Kingdon, looking at Rosy Posy. "That's his trainer who isholding him. He's a wonderful man with wild beasts. He's--he's BuffaloBill. Speak up, Rosy Posy; you're Buffalo Bill, and that's a bearyou're taking home to your show. "

"Ess, " said Rosamond, who was somewhat versed in make-believe plays, "I'se Buffaro Bill; an' 'is is my big, big bear. "

"Will he bite?" asked Kitty, shrinking away in fear, and protectingArabella with one arm. 

"Ess! He bites awful!" Rosy Posy's eyes opened wide as she exploited herBear's ferocity, and Boffin made mad dashes at Arabella, who dulyshrieked with fear. 

But now the ship began to pitch and toss fearfully. The Captain stood upin his excitement, but that only seemed to make the motion worse. 

"Is there danger?" cried Marjorie, in tragic tones, as she gripped thebelt of King's Norfolk jacket. "Give me this life-preserver; I don't seeany other. "

"They are under the seats!" shouted the Captain, who was now greatlyexcited. "I cannot deceive you! We are in great danger! We may strike arock any minute! Put on life-preservers, all of you. They are under theseats. "

The other three scrambled for imaginary life-preservers, and vigorouslyput them on, when, with a terrific yell, Kingdon cried out:

"We have struck! We're on a rock! The ship is settling; we must all bedrowned. We are lost! Launch the boats!"

This was a signal for shrieks and wails from the others, and in a minuteit was pandemonium. The four screamed and groaned, the swing shookviolently, and then came almost to a standstill. 

Kingdon fell out with a bounce and lay prone on the ground. Marjoriesprang out, and as she reached the ground, struck out like a swimmer inthe water. 

Kitty daintily stepped out, remarking: "This is a fine life-preserver. Ican stand straight up in the water. "

Baby Rosamond bundled out backward, dropping Boffin as she did so. 

"The bear, the bear!" screamed Kingdon, and swimming a few strokes alongthe soft, green grass, he grabbed the bear and waved him aloft. 

"What can we do!" stammered Marjorie, panting for breath. "I've swumtill I'm exhausted. Must I drown!" With a wail, she turned on her eyeson the grass, and closing her eyes, prepared to sink beneath the waves. 

"Do not despair, " urged Kingdon, as he grasped her arm. "Perhaps we canfind a plank or a raft. Or perhaps we can yet swim ashore. "

"How many survivors are we?" asked Marjorie, sitting up in the water andlooking about. 

"Four, " responded Kitty; "but I won't swim. It makes my dress allgreeny, and stubs my shoes out. "

Kitty was the only Maynard who was finicky about her clothes. It calledforth much derision from her elder brother and sister, but she stoodfirm. She would play their plays, until it came to "swimming" acrossgrass and earth, and there she rebelled. 

"All right, " said Kingdon, good-naturedly, "you needn't. There's araft, " pointing to what had been the gangplank. "Cannot you and yourinfant daughter manage to get ashore on that? This other lady is anexpert swimmer, and I think she can reach land, while Buffalo Bill will, of course, save himself. "

"Me save myself!" exclaimed Rosy Posy, gleefully. She had no objectionsto swimming on land, and throwing her fat self down flat, kickedvigorously, and assisted Boffin to swim by her side. 

Kitty and Arabella arranged themselves on the raft, which Kittypropelled by a series of hitches. The shipwrecked sufferers thus madetheir way toward the desert island. There were several narrow escapesfrom drowning, but they generously assisted each other, and once whenKitty fell off her raft, the noble Captain offered to take Arabella onhis own broad and stalwart back. 

Buffalo Bill frequently forgot she was in the tossing ocean, and walkedupright on her own fat legs. 

But King said she was only "treading water, " go that was all right. 

At last they sighted land, and by a mighty effort, and much encouragingof one another, they managed to reach the shore of the island. Exhausted, Marjorie threw herself on the beach, and the half-drownedCaptain also dragged himself up on dry land. Kitty skilfully brought herraft ashore, and stepped out, exclaiming: "Saved! But to what a fate!"

This was one of their favorite lines, and Marjorie weakly opened hereyes to respond:

"Methinks I shall not see to-morrow's sun!"

"Hist!" whispered Kingdon, "say no word, lady. There may be cannibalshere!"

"Tannibals!" cried Buffalo Bill. "I 'ike Tannibals. Where is zey?"

Somewhat revived, Kingdon began to look round the desert island to seewhat its nature might be. 

"We have escaped one terrible death!" he declared, "only to meetanother. We must starve! This is a desert island exactly in the middleof the Pacific Ocean. No steamers pass here; no sailing vessels orferryboats or, --or anything!"

"Oh! What shall we do?" moaned Kitty, clasping her hands in despair. "Myprecious Arabella! Already she is begging for food. "

"We must consider, " said Marjorie, sitting up, and looking about her. "If there is nothing else, we must kill the bear and eat him. "

"No, no!" screamed Rosy Posy. "No, no eat my Boffin Bear. "

"I will explore, " said Kingdon. "Come, Buffalo Bill, we are the men ofthis party, we will go all over the island and see what may be found inthe way of food. Perhaps we will find cocoanuts. "

"Ess, " said Buffalo Bill, slipping her little hand in her brother's, "an' we'll take Boffin, so he won't get all killded. "

"And while you're gone, " said Marjorie, "we will dry our drippinggarments and mend them. "

"Yes, " said Kitty, "with needles and thread out of my bag. I brought abig bag of all sorts of things, like Robinson Crusoe. "

"That wasn't Robinson Crusoe, " said King, "it was Mrs. Swiss Robinson. "

"Oh, so it was! Well, it doesn't matter, I brought the bag, anyway. "

The two brave men went away, and returned in a surprisingly short timewith a surprising amount of food. 

"These are cocoanuts, " announced Kingdon, as he displayed four oranges. "I had to climb the tall palm trees to reach them. But no hardships ordangers are too great to assist fair ladies. "

The fair ladies expressed great delight at the gallant Captain's deed, and asked Buffalo Bill what she had secured. 

"Edds, " said Rosy Posy, triumphantly, and, sure enough, in her tinyskirt, which she held gathered up before her, were three eggs and acracker. 

The eggs were hard-boiled, and were promptly appropriated by the threeelder victims of the shipwreck, while the cracker fell to the share ofBuffalo Bill, who was not yet of an age to eat hard-boiled eggs. 

"I, too, will make search!" cried Marjorie. "Methinks there may yet befood which you overlooked. "

As Marjorie had brought the food to the desert island only an hourbefore, it was not impossible that she might find some more, so they lether go to make search. She returned with a paper bag of crackers andanother of pears. 

"These are bread fruit, " she announced, showing the crackers; "and theseare wild pears. This is indeed a fruitful island, and we're lucky to bewrecked on such a good one. "

"Lucky, indeed!" agreed the Captain. "Why, when I discovered those eggson a rocky ledge, I knew at once they were gulls' eggs. "

"And how fortunate that they're boiled, " said Kitty. "I can't bear raweggs. "

The shipwrecked sufferers then spread out their food, and sat down to apleasant meal, for the Maynard children had convenient appetites, andcould eat at almost any hour of the day. 

CHAPTER II

AN EXASPERATING GUEST

"Aren't hard-boiled eggs the very best things to eat in all the world?"said Marjorie, as she looked lovingly at the golden sphere she had justextracted from its ivory setting. 

"They're awful good, " agreed King, "but I like oranges better. "

"Me eat lollunge, " piped up Rosy Posy. "Buffaro Bill would 'ike alollunge. "

"So you shall, Baby. Brother'll fix one for you. "

And the shipwrecked Captain carefully prepared an orange, and gave itbit by bit into the eager, rosy fingers. 

"Of all things in the world, " said Kitty, "I like chocolate creamsbest. "

"Oh, so do I, if I'm not hungry!" said Marjorie. "I think I likedifferent things at different times. "

"Well, it doesn't matter much what you like now, " said King, as he gavethe last section of orange to Rosy Posy, "for everything is all eatenup. Where'd you get those eggs, Mops? We never hardly have them excepton picnics. "

"I saw them in the pantry. Ellen had them for a salad or something. So Ijust took them, and told her she could boil some more. "

"You're a good one, Mopsy, " said her brother, looking at her in evidentadmiration. "The servants never get mad at you. Now if I had hookedthose eggs, Ellen would have blown me up sky-high. "

"Oh, I just smiled at her, " said Marjorie, "and then it was all right. Now, what are we going to do next?"

"Hark!" said Kingdon, who was again the shipwrecked mariner. "I hear adistant sound as of fierce wild beasts growling and roaring. "

"My child, my child!" shrieked Kitty, snatching up Arabella. "She willbe torn by dreadful lions and tigers!"

"We must protect ourselves, " declared Marjorie. "Captain, can't youbuild a barricade? They always do that in books. "

"Ay, ay, ma'am. But also we must hoist a flag, a signal of distress. Forshould a ship come by, they might stop and rescue us. "

"But we have no flag. What can we use for one?"

"Give me your daughter's petticoat, " said the Captain to Kitty. 

"Not so!" said Kitty, who was fond of dramatic phrases. "Arabella'spetticoat is spandy clean, and I won't have it used to make a flag. "

"I'll give you a flag, " said Marjorie. "Take my hair-ribbon. " She beganto pull off her red ribbon, but Kingdon stopped her. 

"No, " he said, "that won't do. We're not playing Pirates. It must be awhite flag. It's for a signal of distress. "

Marjorie thought a moment. There really seemed to be no white flagavailable. 

"All right!" she cried, in a moment. "I'll give you a piece of mypetticoat. It's an old one, and the ruffle is torn anyhow. "

In a flash, impetuous Marjorie had torn a good-sized bit out of herlittle white petticoat, and the Captain fastened it to a long branch hehad broken from the maple tree. 

This he managed, with the aid of some stones, to fasten in an uprightposition, and then they sat down to watch for a passing sail. 

"Buffaro Bill so s'eepy, " announced that small person, and, with fat oldBoffin for a pillow, Rosy Posy calmly dropped off into a morning nap. 

But the others suffered various dreadful vicissitudes. They wereattacked by wild beasts, which, though entirely imaginary, requiredalmost as much killing as if they had been real. 

Kitty shot or lassoed a great many, but she declined to engage in thehand-to-hand encounters with tigers and wolves, such as Marjorie andKingdon undertook, for fear she'd be thrown down on the ground. And, indeed, her fears were well founded, for the valiant fighters were oftenthrown by their fierce adversaries, and rolled over and over, only topick themselves up and renew the fray. 

More exciting still was an attack from the natives of the island. Theywere horrible savages, with tomahawks, and they approached withblood-curdling yells. 

Needless to say that, after a fearful battle, the natives were all slainor put to rout, and the conquerors, exhausted but triumphant, sat roundtheir camp-fire and boasted of their valorous deeds. 

As noontime drew near, the settlers on the island began to grow hungryagain, and, strange to say, the imaginary birds they shot and ate werenot entirely satisfying. 

Buffalo Bill, too, waked up, and demanded a jink of water. 

But none could leave the island and brave the perils of the boundlessocean, unless in a rescuing ship. 

For a long time they waited. They waved their white flag, and they evenshouted for help. 

But the "island" was at some distance from the house or street and nonecame to rescue them. 

At last, they saw a huge, white-covered wagon slowly moving along theback drive. 

"A sail! A sail!" cried the Captain. "What, ho! Help! Help!"

The other shipwrecked ones joined the cry, and soon the wagon drew alittle nearer, and then stopped. 

"Help! Help!" cried the children in chorus. 

It was the butcher's wagon, and they knew it well, but this seasonthere was a new driver who didn't know the Maynard children. 

"What's the matther?" he cried, jumping from his seat, and runningacross the grass to the quartette. 

"We're shipwrecked!" cried Marjorie. "We can't get home. Oh, save usfrom a cruel fate! Carry us back to our far-away fireside!"

"Help!" cried Kitty, faintly. "My child is ill, and I can no longersurvive!"

Dramatic Kitty sank in a heap on the ground, and the butcher's boy wasmore bewildered than ever. 

"Save me!" cried Rosy Posy, toddling straight to him, and putting up herarms. "Save Buffaro Bill first, --me an' Boffin. "

This was more intelligible, and the butcher's boy picked up the smilingchild, and with a few long strides reached his cart, and deposited hertherein. 

"Me next! Me next!" screamed Marjorie. "I'm fainting, too!" With a thud, she fell in a heap beside Kitty. 

"The saints presarve us!" exclaimed the frightened Irishman. "Whativeris the matther wid these childher? Is it pizened ye are?"

"No, only starving, " said Marjorie, but her faint voice was belied bythe merry twinkle in her eyes, which she couldn't suppress at the sightof the man's consternation. 

"Aha! It's shammin' ye are! I see now. "

"It's a game, " explained Kingdon. "We're shipwrecked on a desert island, and you're a passing captain of a small sailing vessel. Will you take usaboard?"

"Shure, sir, " said the other, his face aglow with Irish wit andintelligence. "I persave yer manin'. 'Deed I will resky ye, but how willye get through the deep wathers to me ship forninst?"

"You wade over, and carry this lady, " said King, pointing to Kitty, "andthe rest of us will swim. "

"Thot's a foine plan; come along, miss;" and in a moment Kitty was swungup to the brave rescuer's shoulder, while King and Midget were already"swimming" across the grass to the rescue ship. 

All clambered into the wagon, and the butcher drove them in triumph tothe back door. Here they jumped out, and, after thanking their kindrescuer, they scampered into the house. 

"Such a fun!" said Rosy Posy, as her mother bathed her heated littleface. "Us was all shipperecked, an' I was Buffaro Bill, an' Boffin wasmy big wild bear!"

"You two are sights!" said Mrs. Maynard; laughing as she looked at themuddied, grass-stained, and torn condition of Kingdon and Marjorie. "I'mglad you had your play-clothes on, but I don't see why you always haveto have such rough-and-tumble plays. "

"'Cause we're a rough-and-tumble pair, Mothery, " said King; "look atKitty there! she kept herself almost spick and span. "

"Well, I'm glad I have all sorts of children, " said Mrs. Maynard. "Goand get into clean clothes, and be ready for luncheon promptly on time. I'm expecting Miss Larkin. "

"Larky! Oh!" groaned Kingdon. "I say, Mothery, can't we--us children, Imean--have lunch in the playroom?" He had sidled up to his mother andwas caressing her cheek with his far-from-clean little hands. 

"No, " said Mrs. Maynard, smiling as she kissed the brown fingers, "no, my boy, I want all my olive-branches at my table to-day. So, run alongnow and get civilized. "

"Come on, Mops, " said Kingdon, in a despairing tone, and, with theirarms about each other, the two dawdled away. 

Kitty had already gone to Nurse to be freshened up. Kitty loved company, and was always ready to put on her best manners. 

But King and Midget had so much talking to do, and so many plans tomake, that they disliked the restraint that company necessarily put upontheir own conversation. 

"I do detest old Larky, " said the boy, as they went away. 

"I don't mind her so much, " said Marjorie, "except when she asks mequestions. "

"She's always doing that. "

"Yes, I know it. But I promised Mother I'd be extra good to-day, and tryto talk politely to her. Of course, I can do it if I try. "

"So can I, " said King, with an air of pride in his own powers. "Allright, Mops, let's be 'specially 'stremely good and treat Miss Larkinjust lovely. "

Nearly an hour later the four shipwrecked unfortunates, now transformedinto clean, well-dressed civilians, were grouped in the library to awaitMiss Larkin's arrival. 

The lady was an old friend of Mrs. Maynard's, and though by no meanselderly, was yet far from being as young as she tried to look and act. 

She came tripping in, and after greeting her hostess effusively, sheturned to the children. 

"My, my!" she said. "What a group of little dears! How you havegrown, --every one of you. Kingdon, my dear boy, would you like to kissme?"

The request was far from acceptable to King, but the simper thataccompanied it so repelled him that he almost forgot his determinationto be very cordial to the unwelcome guest. But Midge gave him a warningpinch on his arm, and with an unintelligible murmur of consent, he putup his cheek for the lady's salute. 

"Oh, what a dear boy!" she gurgled. "I really think I shall have to takeyou home with me! And, now, here's Marjorie. How are you, my dear? Doyou go to school now? And what are you learning?"

Miss Larkin's questions always irritated Marjorie, but she answeredpolitely, and then stepped aside in Kitty's favor. 

"Sweet little Katharine, " said the visitor. "You are really an angelchild. With your golden hair and blue eyes, you're a perfect cherub;isn't she, Mrs. Maynard?"

"She's a dear little girl, " said her mother, smiling, "but not alwaysangelic. Here's our baby, our Rosamond. "

"No, I'se Buffaro Bill!" declared Rosy Posy, assuming a valiantattitude, quite out of keeping with her smiling baby face and chubbybody. 

"Oh, what delicious children! Dear Mrs. Maynard, how good of you to letme come to see them. "

As Miss Larkin always invited herself, this speech was literally true, but as she and Mrs. Maynard had been schoolmates long ago, the latterfelt it her duty to give her friend such pleasure as she could. 

At the luncheon table, Miss Larkin kept up a running fire of questions. 

This, she seemed to think, was the only way to entertain children. 

"Do you like to read?" she asked of Marjorie. 

"Yes, indeed, " said Midget, politely. 

"And what books do you like best?"

"Fairy stories, " said Marjorie, promptly. 

"Oh, tut, tut!" and Miss Larkin shook a playful finger. "You shouldlike history. Shouldn't she, now?" she asked, appealing to Kingdon. 

"We like history, too, " said Kingdon. "At least, we like it some; but weboth like fairy stories better. "

"Ah, well, children will be children. Do you like summer or winterbest?"

This was a poser. It had never occurred to Marjorie to think which sheliked best. 

"I like them both alike, " she said, truthfully. 

"Oh, come now; children should have some mind of their own! Little MissKitty, I'm sure you know whether you like summer or winter best. "

Kitty considered. 

"I like winter best for Christmas, and summer for Fourth of July, " shesaid at last, with the air of one settling a weighty matter. 

But Miss Larkin really cared nothing to know about these things; it wasonly her idea of making herself entertaining to her young audience. 

"And you, Baby Rosamond, " she went on, "what do you like best in all theworld?"

"Boffin, " was the ready reply, "an' Buffaro Bill, 'cause I'm it. "

They all laughed at this, for in the Maynard family Rosy Posy's highestimation of herself was well known. 

Although it seemed as if it never would, the luncheon at last came to anend. 

Mrs. Maynard told the children they might be excused, and she and MissLarkin would chat by themselves. 

Decorously enough, the four left the room, but once outside the house, King gave a wild whoop of joy and turned a double somersault. 

Midget threw herself down on a veranda-seat, but with a beaming face, she said:

"Well, we behaved all right, anyway; but I was 'most afraid I'd be saucyto her one time. It's _such_ a temptation, when people talk like that. "

"She talked all the time, " said Kitty. "I don't see when she ateanything. "

"She didn't, " said King. "I suppose she'd rather talk than eat. She'snot a bit like us. "

"No, " said Marjorie, emphatically, "she's not a bit like us!"

CHAPTER III

PICNIC PLANS

One entire day out of each month Mr. Maynard devoted to theentertainment of his children. 

This was a long-established custom, and the children looked forwardeagerly to what they called an Ourday. 

The day chosen was always a Saturday, and usually the first Saturday ofthe month, though this was subject to the convenience of the elders. 

The children were allowed to choose in turn what the entertainmentshould be, and if possible their wishes were complied with. 

As there had been so much bustle and confusion consequent upon theirreturn from the summer vacation, the September "Ourday" did not occuruntil the second Saturday. 

It was Marjorie's turn to choose the sport, for, as she had been away atGrandma Sherwood's all summer, she had missed three Ourdays. 

So one morning, early in the week, the matter was discussed at thebreakfast table. 

"What shall it be, Midget?" asked her father. "A balloon trip, or anArctic expedition?"

Marjorie considered. 

"I want something outdoorsy, " she said, at last, "and I think I'd like apicnic best. A real picnic in the woods, with lunch-baskets, and a fire, and roasted potatoes. "

"That sounds all right to me, " said Mr. Maynard; "do you want a lot ofpeople, or just ourselves?"

It was at the children's pleasure on Ourdays to invite their youngfriends or to have only the family, as they chose. Sometimes, even, Mrs. Maynard did not go with them, and Mr. Maynard took his young brood offfor a ramble in the woods, or a day at the seashore or in the city. Heoften declared that but for this plan he would never feel reallyacquainted with his own children. 

"I don't want a lot of people, " said Marjorie, decidedly; "but supposewe each invite one. That makes a good-sized picnic. "

As it was Marjorie's Ourday, her word was law, and the others gladlyagreed. 

"I'll ask Dick Fulton, " said Kingdon. "I haven't seen much of him sinceI came home. "

"And I'll ask Gladys Fulton, of course, " said Midget. As Gladys was hermost intimate friend in Rockwell, no one was surprised at this. 

"I'll ask Dorothy Adams, " said Kitty; but Rosy Posy announced: "I won'task nobody but Boffin. He's the nicest person I know, an' him an' me canwalk with Daddy. "

"Next, where shall the picnic be?" went on Mr. Maynard. 

"I don't know whether I like Pike's Woods best, or the Mill Race, " saidMarjorie, uncertainly. 

"Oh, choose Pike's Woods, Mops, " put in Kingdon. "It's lovely there, now, and it's a lot better place to build a fire and all that. "

"All right, Father; I choose Pike's Woods. But it's too far to walk. "

"Of course it is, Mopsy. We'll have a big wagon that will hold us all. You may invite your friends, and I'll invite a comrade of my own. Willyou go, Mrs. Maynard?"

"I will, with pleasure. I adore picnics, and this bids fair to be adelightful one. May I assist you in planning the feast?"

"Indeed you may, " said Midget, smiling at her mother. "But we canchoose, can't we?"

"Of course, choose ahead. "

"Ice-cream, " said Marjorie, promptly. 

"Little lemon tarts, " said Kitty. 

"Candy, " said Rosy Posy. 

"Cold chicken, " said Kingdon. 

"That's a fine bill of fare, " said Mr. Maynard, "but I'll add sandwichesand lemonade as my suggestions, and anything we've omitted, I'm surewill get into the baskets somehow. "

"Oh, won't it be lovely!" exclaimed Marjorie. "I haven't been on apicnic with our own family for so long. We had picnics at Grandma's, butnothing is as much fun as an Ourday. "

"Let's take the camera, " said Kingdon, "and get some snapshots. "

"Yes, and let's take fishlines, and fish in the brook, " said Kitty. 

"All right, chickabiddies; we'll have a roomy wagon to travel in, sotake whatever you like. And now I must be off. Little Mother, you'llmake a list to-day, won't you, of such things as I am to get for thisfrolic?"

"Candy, " repeated Rosy Posy; "don't fordet that. "

As the baby was not allowed much candy, she always chose it for herOurday treat. 

Mr. Maynard went away to his business, and the others remained at thebreakfast table, talking over the coming pleasure. 

"We'll have a great time!" said Kingdon. "We'll make father play Indiansand shipwreck and everything. "

"Don't make me play Indians!" exclaimed his mother, in mock dismay. 

"No, indeedy! You couldn't be an Indian. You're too white-folksy. Butyou can be a Captive Princess. "

"Yes!" cried Marjorie; "in chains and shut up in a dungeon. "

"No, no, " screamed Rosy Posy; "my muvver not be shutted up in dunjin!"

"No, she shan't, Baby, " said her brother, comfortingly; "and, anyway, Mops, Indians don't put people in dungeons, you're thinking ofMediævals. "

"Well, I don't care, " said Midget, happily; "we'll have a lovely time, whatever we play. I'm going over to ask Gladys now. May I, Mother?"

"Yes, Midget, run along. Tell Mrs. Fulton that Father and I are going, and that we'd be glad to take Gladys and Dick. "

Away skipped Marjorie, hatless and coatless, for it was a warm day, andGladys lived only across the street. 

"It's so nice to have you back again, Mopsy, " said Gladys, after theinvitation had been given and accepted. "I was awful lonesome for youall summer. "

"I missed you, too; but I did have a lovely time. Oh, Gladys, I wish youcould see my tree-house at Grandma's! Breezy Inn, its name is, and wehad _such_ fun in it. "

"Why don't you have one here? Won't your father make one for you?"

"I don't know. Yes, I suppose he would. But it wouldn't seem the same. It just _belongs_ at Grandma's. And, anyway, I'm busy all the time here. There's so much to do. We play a lot, you know. And then I have mypractising every day, and, oh dear, week after next school will begin. Ijust hate school, don't you, Gladys?"

"No, I love it; you know I do. "

"Well, I don't. I don't mind the lessons, but I hate to sit cooped up ata desk all day. I wish they'd have schools out of doors. "

"Yes, I'd like that, too. I wonder if we can sit together, this year, Mops?"

"Oh, I hope so. Let's ask Miss Lawrence that, the very first thing. Why, I'd die if I had to sit with any one but you. "

"So would I. But I'm sure Miss Lawrence will let us be together. "

Gladys was a pretty little girl, though not at all like Marjorie. Shewas about the same age, but smaller, and with light hair and blue eyes. She was more sedate than Midget, and more quiet in her ways, but she hadthe same love of fun and mischief, and more than once the two girls hadbeen separated in the schoolroom because of the pranks they concoctedwhen together. 

Miss Lawrence, their teacher, was a gentle and long-suffering lady, andshe loved both little girls, but she was sometimes at her wits' end toknow how to tame their rollicking spirits. 

Gladys was as pleased as Marjorie at the prospect of the picnic. Oftenthe Maynard children had their Ourdays without inviting other guests, but when outsiders were invited they always remembered the happyoccasions. 

All through the week preparations went on, and on Friday Ellen, thecook, gave up most of the day to the making of cakes and tarts andjellies. The next morning she was to get up early to fry the chicken andprepare the devilled eggs. 

Mr. Maynard brought home candies and fruit from the city, and a huge canof ice-cream was ordered from the caterer. 

The start was to be made at nine o'clock Saturday morning, for it was along drive, and everybody wanted a long day in the woods. 

Friday evening was fair, with a beautiful sunset, and everything bodedwell for beautiful weather the next day. 

Rosy Posy, after her bread-and-milk supper, went happily off to bed, anddropped to sleep while telling her beloved Boffin of the fun to come. The other children dined with their parents, and the conversation wasexclusively on the one great subject. 

"I don't think it _could_ rain; do you, Father?" said Kitty, lookingover her shoulder, at the fading sunset tints. 

"I think it _could_, my dear, but I don't think it will. All signs pointto fair weather, and I truly believe we'll have a perfect Ourday and ajolly good time. "

"We always do, " said Midge, happily. "I wonder why all fathers don'thave Ourdays with their children. Gladys' father never gets home tillseven o'clock, and she has to go to bed at eight, so she hardly sees himat all, except Sundays, and of course they can't play on Sundays. "

"They must meet as strangers, " said Mr. Maynard. "I think our plan isbetter. I like to feel chummy with my own family, and the only way to doit is to keep acquainted with each other. I wish I could have a wholeday with you every week, instead of only every month. "

"Can't you, Father?" said Kitty, wistfully. 

"No, daughter. I have too much business to attend to, to allow me aholiday every week. But perhaps some day I can manage it. Are you takinga hammock to-morrow, King?"

"Yes, sir. I thought Mother might like an afternoon nap, and Rosy Posyalways goes to sleep in the morning. "

"Thoughtful boy. Take plenty of rope, but you needn't bother to taketrees to swing it from. "

"No, we'll take the chance of finding some there. "

"Yes, doubtless somebody will have left them from the last picnic. Youryoung friends are going?"

"Yes, " said Marjorie. "King and I asked the two Fultons, and Kitty askedDorothy Adams. With all of us, and Nurse Nannie, that makes just ten. "

"And the driver of the wagon makes eleven, " said Mr. Maynard. "I supposewe've enough rations for such an army?"

"Yes, indeed, " said Mrs. Maynard, smiling. "Enough for twenty, I think, but it's well to be on the safe side. "

The children went to bed rather earlier than usual, in order to be upbright and early for the picnic. 

Their play-clothes, which were invariably of blue and white stripedseersucker, were laid out in readiness, and they fell asleep wishing itwere already morning. 

But when the morning did come!

Marjorie wakened first, and before she opened her eyes she heard anominous sound that sent a thrill of dismay to her heart. 

She sprang out of bed, and ran to the window. 

Yes, it was not only raining, it was simply _pouring_. 

One of those steady, determined storms that show no sign of speedyclearing. The sky was dark, leaden gray, and the rain came down in whatseemed to be a thick, solid volume of water. 

"Oh!" said Marjorie, with a groan of disappointment from her very heart. 

"Kitty, " she said, softly, wondering if her sister were awake. 

The girls had two beds on either side of a large room, and Midgettiptoed across the floor, as she spoke. Kitty opened her eyes sleepily. "What is it, Midget? Time to get up? Oh, it's picnic day!"

As Kitty became broad awake, she smiled and gaily hopped out of bed. 

"What's the matter?" she said, in alarm, for Marjorie's face wasanything but smiling. 

For answer, Midget pointed out of the window, toward which Kitty turnedfor the first time. 

"Oh!" said she, dropping back on the edge of the bed. 

And, indeed, there seemed to be nothing else to say. Both girls were sooverwhelmed with disappointment that they could only look at each otherwith despondent faces. 

Silently they began to draw on their stockings and shoes, and thoughdetermined they wouldn't do anything so babyish as to cry, yet it was noeasy matter to keep the tears back. 

"Up yet, chickabiddies?" called Mr. Maynard's cheery voice through theclosed door. 

"Yes, sir, " responded two doleful voices. 

"Then skip along downstairs as soon as you're ready; it's a lovely dayfor our picnic. "

Midge and Kitty looked at each other. This seemed a heartless jestindeed! And it wasn't a bit like their father to tease them when theywere in trouble. And real trouble this surely was!

They heard Mr. Maynard tap at King's door, and call out some gaygreeting to him, and then they heard King splashing about, as if makinghis toilet in a great hurry. All this spurred the girls to dress morequickly, and it was not long before they were tying each other'shair-ribbons and buttoning each other's frocks. 

Then they fairly ran downstairs, and, seeing Mr. Maynard standing by thedining-room window, they both threw themselves into his arms, cryingout, "Oh, Father, isn't it _too_ bad?"

"What?" asked Mr. Maynard, quizzically. 

"Now, Daddy, " said Midget, "don't tease. Our hearts are all brokenbecause it's raining, and we can't have our picnic. "

"Can't have our picnic!" exclaimed Mr. Maynard, in apparent excitement. "Can't have our picnic, indeed! Who says we can't?"

"I say so!" exclaimed Kingdon, who had just entered the room. "Nobodybut ducks can have a picnic to-day. "

"Oh, well, " said Mr. Maynard, looking crestfallen, "if King says so thatsettles it. _I_ think it's a beautiful picnic day, but far be it from meto obtrude my own opinions. "

Just here Mrs. Maynard and Rosy Posy came in. They were both smiling, and though no one expected the baby to take the disappointment veryseriously, yet it did seem as if Mother might have been moresympathetic. 

"I suppose we can eat the ice-cream in the house, " said Marjorie, whowas inclined to look on the bright side if she could possibly find one. 

"That's the way to talk!" said her father, approvingly. "Now you try, Kingdon, to meet the situation as it should be met. "

"I will, sir. I'm just as disappointed as I can be, but I supposethere's no use crying over spilt milk, --I mean spilt raindrops. "

"That's good philosophy, my boy. Now, Kitty, what have you to say by wayof cheering us all up?"

"I can't see much fun in a day like this. But I hope we can have thepicnic on the next Ourday. "

"That's a brave, cheerful spirit. Now, my sad and disheartened crew, take your seats at the breakfast table, and listen to your foolishlyoptimistic old father. "

The children half-heartedly took their places, but seemed to have nothought of eating breakfast. 

"Wowly-wow-wow!" said Mr. Maynard, looking around the table. "_What_ aset of blue faces! Would it brighten you up any if I should prophesythat at dinner-time to-night you will all say it has been the bestOurday we've ever had, and that you're glad it rained?"

"Oh, Father!" said Marjorie, in a tone of wondering reproach, whileKitty and King looked blankly incredulous, and Mrs. Maynard smiledmysteriously. 

CHAPTER IV

AN OURDAY

It was impossible to resist the infection of Mr. Maynard's gaygood-nature, and by the time breakfast was over, the children were intheir usual merry mood. Though an occasional glance out of the windowbrought a shadow to one face or another, it was quickly dispelled by thelaughter and gaiety within. 

Marjorie was perhaps the most disappointed of them all, for it was herday, and she had set her heart on the picnic in the woods. But she triedto make the best of it, remembering that, after all, father would be athome all day, and that was a treat of itself. 

After breakfast, Mr. Maynard led the way to the living-room, followed byhis half-hopeful brood. They all felt that something would be done tomake up for their lost pleasure, but it didn't seem as if it could beanything very nice. 

Mr. Maynard looked out of the front window in silence for a moment, thensuddenly he turned and faced the children. 

"Ladies and gentlemen, " he said; "do any of you know the story ofMahomet and the mountain?"

"No, sir, " was the answer of every one, and Marjorie's spirits sank. Sheliked to hear her father tell stories sometimes, but it was a tameentertainment to take the place of a picnic, and Mahomet didn't soundlike an interesting subject, anyway. 

Mr. Maynard's eyes twinkled. 

"This is the story, " he began; "sit down while I tell it to you. "

With a little sigh Marjorie sat down on the sofa, and the othersfollowed her example. Rosy Posy, hugging Boffin, scrambled up into a bigarmchair, and settled herself to listen. 

"It is an old story, " went on Mr. Maynard, "and the point of it is thatif the mountain wouldn't come to Mahomet, Mahomet must needs go to themountain. But to-day I propose to reverse the story, and since you foursad, forlorn-looking Mahomets can't go to the picnic, why then, thepicnic must come to you. And here it is!"

As Mr. Maynard spoke--indeed he timed his words purposely--their owncarriage drove up to the front door, and, flying to the window, Marjoriesaw some children getting out of it. Though bundled up in raincoats andcaps, she soon recognized Gladys and Dick Fulton and Dorothy Adams. 

In a moment they all met in the hall, and the laughter and shoutingeffectually banished the last trace of disappointment from the youngMaynards' faces. 

"Did you come for the picnic?" said Marjorie to Gladys, in amazement. 

"Yes; your father telephoned early this morning, --before breakfast, --andhe said the picnic would be in the house instead of in the woods. And hesent the carriage for us all. "

"Great! Isn't it?" said Dick Fulton, as he helped his sister off withher mackintosh. "I thought there'd be no picnic, but here we are. "

"Here we are, indeed!" said Mr. Maynard, who was helping Dorothy Adamsunwind an entangling veil, "and everybody as dry as a bone. "

"Yes, " said Dorothy, "the storm is awful, but in your close carriage, and with all these wraps, I couldn't get wet. "

"Oh, isn't it fun!" cried Kitty, as she threw her arms around her dearfriend, Dorothy. "Are you to stay all day?"

"Yes, until six o'clock. Mr. Maynard says picnics always last untilsundown. "

Back they all trooped to the big living-room, which presented a cheerfulaspect indeed. The rainy morning being chilly, an open fire in the amplefireplace threw out a cheerful blaze and warmth. Mrs. Maynard's pleasantface smiled brightly, as she welcomed each little guest, and afterwardshe excused herself, saying she had some household matters to attend toand that Mr. Maynard would take charge of the "picnic. "

"First of all, " said the host, as the children turned expectant facestoward him, "nobody is to say, 'What a pity it rained!' or anything likethat. Indeed, you are not to look out at the storm at all, unless yousay, 'How fortunate we are under cover!' or words to that effect. "

"All right, sir, " said Dick Fulton, "I agree. And I think a picnic inthe house will be dead loads of fun. "

"That's the way to talk, " said Mr. Maynard, "and now the picnic willbegin. The first part of it will be a nutting-party. "

"Oho!" laughed Marjorie. "A nutting-party in the house is 'most toomuch! I don't see any trees;" and she looked around in mock dismay. 

"Do you usually pick the nuts off of trees?" asked her father, quizzically. "You know you don't! You gather them after they havefallen. Now nuts have fallen all over this house, in every room, and allyou have to do is to gather them. Each may have a basket, and see whocan find the most. Scamper, now!"

While Mr. Maynard was talking, Sarah, the waitress, had come in, bringing seven pretty baskets of fancy wicker-ware. One was given toeach child, and off they ran in quest of nuts. 

"Every room, Father?" called back Marjorie, over her shoulder. 

"Every room, " he replied, "except the kitchen. You must not go outthere to bother cook. She has all she can attend to. "

This sounded pleasant, so Marjorie went on, only pausing for one morequestion. 

"What kind of nuts, Father?"

"Gather any kind you see, my child. There was such a strong wind lastnight, I daresay it blew down all sorts. "

And truly that seemed to be the case. Shrieks of surprise and delightfrom the whole seven announced the discoveries they made. 

They found peanuts, English walnuts, pecan nuts, hazelnuts, Brazil nuts, almonds, hickory nuts, black walnuts, and some of which they didn't knowthe names. 

The nuts were hidden in all sorts of places. Stuffed down in thecushions of chairs and sofas, on mantels and brackets, under rugs andfootstools, on window sills, on the floor, on the chandeliers, theyseemed to be everywhere. All over the house the children scampered, filling their baskets as they went. 

Sometimes two would make a dash for the same nut, and two bumped headswould ensue, but this was looked upon as part of the fun. 

The older children gathered their nuts from the highest places, leavingthe low places for the little ones to look into. 

Rosy Posy found most of those on the floor, behind the lace curtains orportières, as she toddled about with her basket on one arm and Boffin inthe other. 

At last the whole house had been pretty thoroughly ransacked, and thenutting-party returned in triumph with loaded baskets. 

"Did you look under the sofa pillows on the couch in this room?" saidMr. Maynard, gravely, and seven pairs of legs scampered for the couch. 

Under its pillows they found three big _cocoanuts_, and Mr. Maynarddeclared that completed the hunt. 

Meantime, the big, round table in the middle of the room had beencleared of its books and papers, and the children were directed to emptytheir baskets of nuts on the table, taking care that none should rolloff the edge. The seven basketsful were tumbled out, and a goodly heapthey made. 

Then the seven sat round the table, and to each one was given a tinypair of candy tongs, such as comes with the confectioner's boxes. 

"This is a new game, " explained Mr. Maynard, "and it's called Jacknuts. It is played just the same as Jackstraws. Each, in turn, must take nutsfrom the heap with the tongs. If you jar or jostle another nut than theone you're taking away, it is then the next player's turn. "

Of course they all knew how to play Jackstraws, so they understood atonce, but this was much more fun. 

"The first ones are so easy, let's give Rosy Posy the first chance, "said Dick Fulton, and Mr. Maynard, with a nod of approval at the boy, agreed to this plan. So Rosy Posy, her fat little hand grasping the tinytongs, succeeded in getting nearly a dozen nuts into her basket. 

As Dorothy Adams was not quite as old as Kitty, she took her turn next, and then all followed in accordance with their ages. 

It was a fascinating game. Some of the little hazelnuts or the slenderpeanuts were easy to nip with the tongs, but the big English walnuts, orqueer-shaped Madeira nuts were very difficult. Great delicacy of touchwas necessary, and the children found the new game enthralling. 

After her first turn Rosy Posy ran away from the game, and Mr. Maynardtook her place. 

"Oho, Father, " laughed Kitty, "I thought you'd get them all, but you'reno more successful at it than we are. "

"No, " said Mr. Maynard, looking with chagrin at his small heap of nuts, "my fingers are too old and stiff, I think. "

"So are mine, " said Marjorie, laughing. 

"You're too fat, Dumpling, " said her father. "Kitty's slim little clawsseem to do the best work. "

"I think it's a steady hand that counts, " said Dick; "watch me now!"

With great care, and very slowly, he picked off several nuts that weredaintily balanced on the other nuts, but at last he joggled one, and itwas King's turn. 

"I believe in going fast, " said King, and like a whirlwind he picked offfour nuts, one after the other. But his last one sent several othersflying, and so left an easy chance for Gladys, who came next. 

"There's a prize for this game, " announced Mr. Maynard, after the tablewas entirely cleared, and the nuts were again all in the seven baskets. "In fact there's a prize apiece, all round. And the prizes are nuts, ofcourse. You may each have one. "

"One nut!" cried Marjorie. "What a little prize!"

"Not so very little, " said her father, smiling. 

Then Sarah appeared with a plate of _doughnuts_, and everybody gladlytook a prize. A glass of milk went with each of these nuts, and then thechildren clamored to play the game all over again. 

"No, indeed!" said Mr. Maynard. "You can play that any day in the year, but just now we're having a picnic, and the picnic must proceed with itsprogramme. "

"All right!" cried Marjorie. "What comes next?"

"Crackers, " said her father. "Bring them in, please, Sarah. "

"Crackers!" exclaimed King. "I don't want any after that big doughnut. "

"You must take one, though, " said his father, "it's part of theprogramme. "

Then Sarah came, and brought a big tray on which were threenutcrackers, some nutpicks, and several bowls and plates. 

"Take a cracker, King, " said Mr. Maynard, and the boy promptly took thebiggest nutcracker, ready to do the hardest work. 

The girls took nutpicks and bowls, and Mr. Maynard and Dick Fulton tookthe other two nutcrackers, and then work began in earnest. But the workwas really play, and they all enjoyed cracking and picking out the nuts, though what they were doing it for nobody knew. But with so many at it, it was soon over, and the result was several bowlsful of kernels. Theshells were thrown into the fire, and Mr. Maynard directed that theseven empty baskets be set aside till later. 

"We haven't cracked the cocoanuts yet, " said Dick. "They're too big forthese nutcrackers. "

"So they are, " said Mr. Maynard. "Well, I'll tell you what we'll do. We'll take them to the dining-room and continue our nut game out there. "

So each carried a bowl of nuts, or a cocoanut, and all went to thedining-room. 

There the extension-table was spread out full length, and contained alot of things. On big sheets of white paper were piles of sifted sugar. Large empty bowls there were, and big spoons, and plates and dishesfilled with figs and dates, and oranges and all sorts of goodies. 

"What's it all for?" said Marjorie. "It's too early for lunch, and toolate for breakfast. "

"It's the rest of the nut game, " said Mr. Maynard. "I am ProfessorNuttall, or Know-it-all; and I'm going to teach you children what I hopewill be a valuable accomplishment. Do any of you like candy?"

Replies of "We do, " and "Yes, sir, " came so emphatically that Mr. Maynard seemed satisfied with the answers. 

"Well, then, we'll make some candy that shall be just the best ever!How's that?"

"Fine!" "Glorious!" "Goody, goody!" "Great!" "Oh, Father!" and "Ah!"came loudly from six young throats, and Mrs. Maynard and Rosy Posy cameto join the game. 

Sarah came, too, bringing white aprons for everybody, boys and all, andthen Nurse Nannie appeared, and marched them off, two by two, to washtheir hands for the candy-making process. 

CHAPTER V

A NOVEL PICNIC

But at last they were all ready to begin. 

Mr. Maynard, in his position of teacher, insisted on absolute system andmethod, and everything was arranged with care and regularity. 

"The first thing to learn in candy-making, " he said, "is neatness; andthe second, accuracy. "

"Why, Father, " cried Dorothy, "I didn't know you knew how to makecandy!"

"I know more than you'd believe, to look at me. And now, if you fourgirls will each squeeze the juice of an orange into a cup, we'll begin. "

Marjorie and Kitty and Gladys and Dorothy obeyed instructions exactly, and soon each was carefully breaking an egg, and still more carefullyseparating the white from the yolk. 

Mrs. Maynard seemed to find plenty to do just waiting on the workers, and it was largely owing to her thoughtfulness that oranges and eggsand cups and spoons appeared when needed, almost as if by magic. 

Meantime the two boys were working rapidly and carefully, too. Theygrated cocoanut and chocolate; they cut up figs and seeded dates; theychopped nuts and raisins; and they received admiring compliments fromMrs. Maynard for the satisfactory results of their work. 

"Oh, isn't it fun!" exclaimed Marjorie, as she and Gladys were taught tomould the creamy, white _fondant_ they had made, into tiny balls. Someof these white balls the smaller girls pressed between two nut kernels, or into a split date; and others were to be made into chocolate creams. This last was a thrilling process, for it was not easy at first to dropthe white ball into the hot black chocolate, and remove it daintily witha silver fork, being most careful the while not to leave untidydrippings. 

Cocoanut balls were made, and nougat, which was cut into cubes, andlovely, flat peanut sugar cakes. 

The boys did all these things quite as well as the girls, and all, except Rosy Posy, worked with a will and really accomplished wonders. 

Each was allowed to eat five finished candies of any sort and at anytime they chose, but they were on their honor not to eat more than five. 

"Oh, " sighed Marjorie, as she looked at the shining rows of goodies onplates and tins, "I'd like to eat a hundred!"

"You wouldn't want any luncheon, then, " said her father. "And as it'snow noon, and as our candies are all done, I suggest that you allscamper away to some place where soap and water grow wild, and return assoon as possible, all tidy and neat for our picnic luncheon. "

"Lunch time!" cried Gladys, in surprise. "It can't be! Why, we've onlybeen here a little while. "

But it was half-past twelve, and for the first time that whole morningthe children looked out of the windows. 

"It's still raining, " said King, "and I'm glad of it. We're having morefun than at an outdoor picnic, _I_ think. "

"So do I!" cried all the others, as they ran away upstairs. 

Shortly after, seven very spick-and-span-looking children presentedthemselves in the lower hall. Curls had been brushed, hair-ribbonsfreshly tied, and even Boffin had a new blue ribbon round his neck. 

"Now for the real picnic!" cried Mr. Maynard, as he led the way into theliving-room. 

As Marjorie entered, she gave a shriek of delight, and turned to rushinto her father's arms. 

"Oh, Daddy!" she cried. "You do beat the Dutch! What a lovely picnic!It's a million times better than going to the woods!"

"Especially on a day like this, " said her father. 

The others, too, gave exclamations of joy, and indeed that was smallwonder. 

The whole room had _almost_ been turned into a woodland glen. 

On the floor were spread some old green muslin curtains that had oncebeen used for private theatricals or something. 

Round the walls stood all the palms and ferns and plants that belongedin other parts of the house, and these were enough to give quite anoutdoorsy look to the place. 

To add to this, great branches of leaves were thrust behind sofas ortables. Some leaves were green and some had already turned to autumntints, so it was almost like a real wood. 

Chairs and tables had been taken away, and to sit on, the children foundsome big logs of wood, like trunks of fallen trees, and some large, flatstones. 

James, the coachman, and Thomas, the gardener, had been working at theroom all the time the children were making candy, and even now they werepeeping in at the windows to see the young people enjoying themselves. 

In the middle of the room was what looked like a big, flat rock. As itwas covered with an old, gray rubber waterproof, it was probably anartificial rock, but it answered its purpose. Real stones, twigs, leaves, and even clumps of moss were all about on the green floor cloth, and overhead were the children's birds, which had been brought down fromthe playroom, and which sang gaily in honor of the occasion. 

"Isn't it wonderful?" said Dorothy Adams, a little awed at thetransformation scene; "how did you do it, Mr. Maynard?"

"I told my children, " he replied, "that since they couldn't go to thepicnic the picnic should come to them, and here it is. "

Rosy Posy discovered a pile of hay in a corner, and plumped herselfdown upon it, still holding tightly her beloved Boffin. 

Then James and Thomas came in carrying big, covered baskets. 

"The picnic! The picnic!" cried Rosy Posy, to whom a picnic meantchiefly the feast thereof. 

After the baskets were deposited on the ground near the flat rock, Jamesand Thomas went away, and none of the servants remained but NurseNannie, who would have gone to the picnic in the wood, and who wasneeded to look after little Rosamond. 

"Now, my boys, " said Mr. Maynard, "we must wait on ourselves, you know;and on the ladies. This is a real picnic. "

Very willingly the boys fell upon the baskets, and soon had theircontents set out upon the big rocks. 

Such shouts of delight as went up at sight of those contents!

And indeed it was fun!

No china dishes or linen napery, but wooden plates and Japanese papernapkins in true picnic style. Then while the girls set the viands inorder, the boys mended the fire in the big fireplace, and put potatoesin to roast. Mrs. Maynard had thoughtfully selected small potatoes, andso they were soon done, and with butter and pepper and salt they tastedexactly as roast potatoes do in the woods, and every one knows there isno better taste than that!

While the potatoes were roasting, too, the lemonade must be made. Mr. Maynard and Dick Fulton squeezed the lemons, while Kingdon volunteeredto go down to the spring for water. 

This made great fun, for they all knew he only went to the kitchen, buthe returned with a pail of "cold spring water, " and then Mrs. Maynardattended to the mixing of the lemonade. 

The feast itself was found to include everything that had been asked forbeforehand. 

Cold chicken, devilled eggs, sandwiches, lemon tarts, all were there, besides lots of other good things. 

They all pretended, of course, that they were really in the woods. 

"How blue the sky is to-day, " said Mr. Maynard, looking upward, as hesat on a log, with a sandwich in one hand and a glass of lemonade in theother. 

As the ceiling was papered in a design of white and gold, it requiredsome imagination to follow his remark, but they were all equal to it. 

"Yes, " said Marjorie, gazing intently skyward; "it's a beeyootiful day. But I see a slight cloud, as if it _might_ rain to-morrow. "

"We need rain, " said Mr. Maynard; "the country is drying up for the lackof it. "

As it was still pouring steadily, this was very funny, and of coursethey all giggled. 

Then King went on. 

"The sun is so bright it hurts my eyes. I wish I had a pair of greenglasses to protect them. "

"Or a parasol, " said Gladys. "I'm sorry I left mine at home. "

"What are we going to do at the picnic this afternoon, Father?" askedKitty. 

"I thought we'd fly kites, " said Mr. Maynard, "but there isn't a breathof air stirring, so we can't. "

The wind was blowing a perfect gale, so this made them all laugh again, and Gladys said to Marjorie, "I do think your father is the _funniest_man!"

At last the more substantial part of the luncheon was over, and it wastime for the ice-cream. 

The freezer was brought right into the picnic ground, and Kingdon andDick were asked to dig the ice-cream out with a big wooden spoon, justas they always did at picnics. The heaps of pink and white delight, onfresh pasteboard plates, were passed around, and were eaten by thosesurprising children with as much relish as if they hadn't just consumedseveral basketsful of other things. 

Then the candies were brought in, but, strange to say, nobody cared muchfor any just then. 

So Mrs. Maynard had the seven pretty fancy baskets, that they hadgathered nuts in, brought back, and each child was allowed to fill abasket with the pretty candies. 

These were set away until the picnic was over, when they were to betaken home as souvenirs. 

Luncheon over, Mr. Maynard decreed that the picnickers needn't do thecleaning away, as that couldn't be done by merely throwing away thingsas they did in the woods. 

So Sarah came in to tidy up the room, and Mr. Maynard seated his wholeparty on the big logs and stones, while he told them stories. 

The stories were well worth listening to, and though Rosy Posy fellasleep, the others listened breathlessly to the tales which were told ina truly dramatic fashion. But after an hour or so of this, Mr. Maynardsuddenly declared that the picnic was becoming too quiet. 

"I wanted you all to sit still for a while after your hearty luncheon, "he said, "but now you need exercise. Shall we play 'Still Pond'?"

A howl of glee greeted this suggestion, for Still Pond in the house wasusually a forbidden game. 

As you probably know, it is like Blindman's Buff, only the ones who arenot blinded may not move. 

Marjorie was "It" first, and after being carefully blindfolded by herfather, she stood still in the middle of the floor and counted ten veryslowly. While she did this, the others placed themselves behind tablesor chairs, or wherever they felt safe from the blindfolded pursuer. 

"Ten!" cried Marjorie, at last. "Still Pond! No moving!"

This was a signal for perfect quiet; any one moving after that had to be"It" in turn. 

No sound was heard, so Marjorie felt her way cautiously about until sheshould catch some one. It was hard for the others not to laugh as shenarrowly escaped touching Kingdon's head above the back of the sofa, andalmost caught Kitty's foot as it swung from a table. But at last shecaught her father, who was on the floor covered up with an afghan, andso Mr. Maynard was "It" in his turn. 

It was a rollicking game, and a very exciting one, and, as often was thecase, it soon merged into Blindman's Buff. This was even more rompingand noisy, and soon the picnic sounded like Pandemonium let loose. 

"Good!" cried Mr. Maynard, as he looked at the red, laughing faces, andmoist, tumbled curls. "You look just like a lot of healthy, happy boysand girls should look, but that's enough of that. Now, we'll sit down ina circle, and play quiet games. "

Again the group occupied the logs and stones, ottomans and sofa cushionsif they preferred, and they played guessing games selected by each inturn. 

When it was Mr. Maynard's turn, he said he would teach them the game ofthe Popular Picnic. He began by telling them they must each in turnrepeat what he himself should say. 

Turning to Kingdon, he said, "To-day I have been to the Popular Picnic. "

So Kingdon said to Dick, "To-day I have been to the Popular Picnic. "

Then Dick said it to Marjorie, and Marjorie to Gladys, and so on allround the circle. 

Then Mr. Maynard said, gravely: "To-day I have been to the PopularPicnic. Merry, madcap Mopsy Midget was there. "

This was repeated all round, and then to the lingo Mr. Maynard added, "Kicking, kinky-legged Kingdon was there. "

This, after the other, was not so easy, but they all repeated it. 

Next came, "Dear, dainty, do-little Dorothy was there. "

This made them laugh, but they said it safely all round. 

Then, "Delightful, dangerous, Deadwood Dick was there. "

They had to help each other this time, but not one of them would give upthe game. 

"Gay, gregarious, giggling Gladys was there. "

Gladys was indeed giggling, but so were all the others. Still they werea determined lot, and each time round each one repeated all the sets ofnames, amid the laughing of the others. 

"Kind-hearted, Kindergarten Kitty, " was an easy one, but when the listwound up with "Rollicking Rufflecumtuffle Rosy Posy, " the game ended ina gale of laughter. 

But they remembered many of the funny phrases, and often called eachother by them afterward. 

"Now, " said Mr. Maynard, "we'll play something less wearing on theintellect. This is called the motor-car game, and you must all sit in arow. Kingdon, you're the chauffeur, and when chauffeur is mentioned, youmust make a 'chuff-chuff' sound like starting the machine. Dick, you'rethe tire, and when tire is said, you must make a fearful report like anexplosion of a bursting tire. Dorothy, you're the number, and whennumber is mentioned, you must say six-three-nine-nine-seven. "

"What am I, Father?" said impatient Kitty. 

"Oh, you're the man that they run over, and you must groan and scream. Marjorie, you're the speed limit, and you must cry, 'Whiz! Zip!!_Whizz!!!_' Gladys, you're the dust. All you have to do is to fly aboutand wave your arms and hands, and sneeze. Rosy Posy, baby, you're thehorn. Whenever father says _horn_, you must say 'Toot, toot!' Will you?"

"Ess. Me play game booful, me an' Boffin; we say, 'Toot, toot!'"

"Now, " went on Mr. Maynard, "I'll tell the story and when any of you arementioned you must do your part. Then if I say automobile, you must alldo your parts at once. Ready now: Well, this morning I started out for aride and first thing I knew my tire burst. "

A fearful "Plop!" from Dick startled them all, and then the game wenton. 

"I feared I was exceeding the speed-limit [much puffing and whizzingfrom Marjorie], and as I looked back through the dust [great cloud ofdust represented by Gladys' pantomime] I saw I had run over a man!"

The awful groans and wails from Kitty were so realistic that Mr. Maynardhimself shook with laughter. 

"I sounded my horn----"

"Tooty-toot-toot!" said Rosy Posy, after being prompted by Kingdon. 

"But as I was my own chauffeur"--here Kingdon's representation of astarting motor quite drowned the speaker's voice--"I hastened on beforethey could even get my number. "

"Eight-six-eleven-nine, " cried Dorothy, quite forgetting the numbers shehad been told. But nobody minded it, for just then Mr. Maynard said, "And so I went home with my automobile. "

At this everybody turned up at once, and the dust cloud flew about, andthe man who was run over groaned fearfully, and tires burst one afteranother, and the horn tooted, until Mr. Maynard was really obliged tocry for mercy, and the game was at an end. 

The afternoon, too, was nearly at an end, and so quickly had it flownthat nobody could believe it was almost six o'clock!

But it was, and it was time for the picnic to break up, and for thelittle guests to go home. It had stopped raining, but was still dull andwet, so the raincoats were donned again, and, with their beautifulbaskets of candies wrapped in protecting tissue papers, Gladys andDorothy and Dick clambered into Mr. Maynard's carriage and were drivento their homes. 

"Good-bye!" they called, as they drove away. "Good-bye, all! We've had a_lovely_ time!"

"Lovely? I should say so!" said Marjorie, who was clinging to herfather's arm. "It's been the very best Ourday ever, and I'm _so_ glad itrained!"

"My prophecy has come true!" declared Mr. Maynard, striking a dramaticattitude. "Only this morning I prognosticated you'd say that, andyou----"

"And I didn't see how it could be possible, " agreed Marjorie, waggingher head, wisely. "I know it. But you made it possible, you beautiful, dear, smart, clever, sweet father, you, and I've had just the elegantesttime!"

"When it's my turn, I shall choose a picnic in the house, " said Kitty. 

"Not unless it's a rainy day, " said her father. "I've enjoyed the day, too, but I can tell you it's no joke to get up this kind of a picnic. Why, I was telephoning and sending errands for two hours before youkiddies were awake this morning. "

"Dear Daddy, " said Marjorie, caressing his hand in both her own, "youare _so_ good to us; and I _do_ hope it will rain next Ourday!"

"So do I!" said all the others. 

CHAPTER VI

THE FIRST DAY OF SCHOOL

At last schooldays began, and one Monday morning the three Maynardsstarted off. 

The first day of school was a great occasion, and much preparation hadbeen made for it. 

Mr. Maynard had brought each of the children a fine new box, wellstocked with pencils, pens, and things of that sort. Kitty had a newslate, and Midget and King had new blankbooks. 

Also, they were all in a state of clean starchiness, and the girls'pretty gingham dresses and King's wide white collar were immaculate. 

Marjorie didn't look especially happy, but her mother said:

"Now, Mopsy, dear, don't go to school as if it were penance. Try toenjoy it, and think of the fun you'll have playing with the other girlsat recess. "

"I know, Mother; but recess is so short, and school is so long. "

"Ho! Only till one o'clock, " said Kingdon. "Then we can come home, havelunch, and then there's all the afternoon to play. "

"Yes, for you, " said Marjorie. "But I have to practise a whole hour, andthat leaves almost no time at all, and there are so many things I wantto do. "

"Now, my little girl, " said Mrs. Maynard, very seriously, "you must tryto conquer that mood. You know you have to go to school, so why not makethe best of it? You don't really dislike it as much as you think you do. So, cheer up, little daughter, and run along, determined to see thebright side, even of school. "

"I will try, Mother, " said Midget, smiling, as she received her good-byekiss, "but I'll be glad when it's one o'clock. "

"I wiss me could go to school, " said Rosy Posy, wistfully; "me an'Boffin, we'd have fun in school. "

"There it is, " said Mrs. Maynard, laughing. "Little girls who can go toschool don't want to go, and little girls who can't go do want to!"

"You'll go some day, Baby, " said King, "but they won't let you takeBoffin. "

"Den I won't go!" declared Rosy Posy, decidedly. 

The three walked down the path to the gate, and, soon after they reachedthe street, they were joined by several others, also schoolward bound. 

Marjorie's spirits rose, as she chatted with the merry young people; andas they passed the Fulton house, and Dick and Gladys came out, Marjoriewas so glad to see her friend that she was at once her own happy, merrylittle self again. 

Miss Lawrence's room was one of the pleasantest in the big brickbuilding. When Marjorie and Gladys presented themselves at her desk, andasked if they might sit together, the teacher hesitated. She wanted togrant the request of the little girls, but they had been in her classthe year before, and she well knew their propensities for mischief. 

"Oh, please, Miss Lawrence!" begged Marjorie; and, "Oh, do say yes!"pleaded Gladys. 

It was hard to resist the little coaxers, and Miss Lawrence at lastconsented. 

"But, " she said, "you may sit at the same desk only so long as youbehave well. If you cut up naughty pranks, I shall separate you for therest of the term. "

"We won't!" "We will be good!" cried the two children, and they ranhappily away to their desk. 

Each desk was arranged for two occupants, and both Marjorie and Gladysenjoyed putting their things away neatly, and keeping them in goodorder. They never spilled ink, or kept their papers helter-skelter, andbut for their mischievous ways, would have been model pupils indeed. 

"Let's be real good all the term, Gladys, " said Midget, who was stillunder the influence of her mother's parting words. "Let's try not to cutup tricks, or do anything bad. "

"All right, Mopsy. But you mustn't make me laugh in school. It's whenyou begin to do funny things that I seem to follow on. "

"Well, I won't. I'll be as good as a little white mouse. But if I'm amouse, I'll nibble your things. "

Down went Marjorie's curly head like a flash, and when it came up again, Gladys' new penholder was between her teeth, and the "mouse" wasvigorously nibbling it. 

"Stop that, Mops! I think you're real mean! That's my new penholder, andnow you've spoiled it. "

"So I have! Honest, Gladys, I didn't think the dents would show so. Iwas just playing mouse, you know. Here, I'll change, and give you mine. It's new, too. "

"No, I won't take it. "

"Yes, you will; you must. I'm awfully sorry I chewed yours. "

Poor little Midget! She was always impulsively getting into mischief, but she was always sorry, and generously anxious to make amends. 

So Gladys took Marjorie's penholder, and Mopsy had the nibbled one. Shedidn't like it a bit, for she liked to have her things in good order, but she said to Gladys:

"Perhaps it will make me remember to be good in school. Oh, s'pose I'dplayed mouse in school hours!"

"Keep still, " said Gladys, "the bell has rung. "

The morning passed pleasantly enough, for there were no lessons on thefirst day of school. 

Books were distributed, and class records were made, and lessons givenout for next day. 

Marjorie was delighted with her new geography, which was a larger bookthan the one she had had the year before. Especially was she pleasedwith a large map which was called the "Water Hemisphere. " On theopposite page was the "Land Hemisphere, " and this was a division of theglobe she had never seen before. 

The Water Hemisphere pleased her best, and she at once began to playgames with it. 

Talking was, of course, forbidden, but motioning for Gladys to followher example, she made a tiny paper boat, and then another, and severalothers. These she set afloat on the printed ocean of the WaterHemisphere. Gladys, delighted with the fun, quickly made some boats forherself, and arranged them on her own geography. Other pupils, seeingwhat was going on, followed the example, and soon nearly all thegeographies in the room had little paper craft dotting their oceans. 

Next, Marjorie made some little men and women to put in the boats. Shehad no scissors, but tore them roughly out of paper which she took fromher blankbook. Other leaves of this she obligingly passed around, untilall the boats in the room were supplied with passengers. 

Then Marjorie, still in her position of leader, tore out a semblance ofa fish. It seemed to be a whale or shark, with wide-open jaws. 

This awful creature came slowly up from the Antarctic Ocean, toward theships full of people. 

Suddenly a boat upset, the passengers fell out, and the whale made adash for them. 

This awful catastrophe was repeated in the other oceans, and, needlessto say, in a moment the whole roomful of children were in peals oflaughter. 

Miss Lawrence looked up from her writing, and saw her class all gigglingand shaking behind their geographies. Instinctively she glanced towardMarjorie, but that innocent damsel had swept all her boats and whalesinto her pocket, and was demurely studying her lessons. 

Marjorie did not in the least mean to deceive Miss Lawrence, but whenthe children all laughed, she suddenly realized that she had been out oforder, and so she quickly stopped her play, and resumed her task. 

Observing the open geographies covered with scraps of paper, MissLawrence felt she must at least inquire into the matter, and, though thechildren did not want to "tell tales, " it soon transpired that MarjorieMaynard had been ringleader in the game. 

"Why did you do it, Marjorie?" asked Miss Lawrence, with a reproachfulexpression on her face. As she had meant no harm, Marjorie felt calledupon to defend herself. 

"Why, Miss Lawrence, " she said, rising in her seat, "I didn't thinkeverybody would do it, just because I did. And I didn't think much aboutit anyway. I s'pose that's the trouble. I _never_ think! But I never hada jography before with such a big ocean map, and it was such a lovelyplace to sail boats, I just made a few. And then I just thought I'd putsome people in the boats, and then it seemed as if such a big oceanought to have fish in it. So I made a whale, --and I was going to make alot of bluefish and shads and things, but a boat upset, and the whalecame after the people, and then, first thing I knew, everybody waslaughing! I didn't mean to do wrong. "

Marjorie looked so genuinely distressed that Miss Lawrence hadn't theheart to scold her. But she sighed as she thought of the days to come. 

"No, Marjorie, " she said, "I don't think you did mean to do wrong, butyou ought to know better than to make paper toys to play with inschool. "

"But it isn't exactly a schoolday, Miss Lawrence. "

"No; and for that very reason I shall not punish you this time. Butremember, after this, that playing games of any sort is out of place inthe schoolroom. "

"Yes, ma'am, " said Marjorie, and she sat down, feeling that she had beenforgiven, and firmly resolved to try harder than ever to be good. 

But half-suppressed chuckles now and then, in different parts of theschoolroom, proved to the watchful Miss Lawrence that some of the whaleswere still lashing about the paper oceans in quest of upturned boats. 

The game so filled Marjorie's thoughts that she asked that Gladys andshe might be allowed to stay in the schoolroom at recess and play it. 

"There's surely no harm in playing games at recess, is there, MissLawrence?" she asked, as she caressed her teacher's hand. 

Miss Lawrence hesitated. "No, " she said, at last; "I can't let you stayin the schoolroom. I'm sorry, dearies, and I hate to be always saying'No, ' but I feel sure your parents want you to run out in the fresh airat recess time, and they wouldn't like to have you stay indoors. "

"Oh, dear, " said Marjorie; "seems 'sif we can't have any fun!" Then herface brightened, and she added, "But mayn't we take our jographies outon the playground, and play out there?"

There was a rule against taking schoolbooks out of the classrooms, butMiss Lawrence so disliked to say 'No' again that she made a specialdispensation, and said:

"Yes, do take your geographies out with you. But be very careful not tosoil or tear them. "

And so the two girls danced away, and all through the recess hour, boatsupset and awful sharks swallowed shrieking victims. But, as might havebeen expected, most of the other children came flying back to theschoolroom for their geographies, and again Miss Lawrence was in aquandary. 

"I never saw a child like Marjorie Maynard, " she confided to anotherteacher. "She's the dearest little girl, but she gets up such crazyschemes, and all the others follow in her footsteps. "

So, after recess, Miss Lawrence had to make a rule that books could notbe used as playthings, even at recess times. 

For the rest of the morning, Marjorie was a model pupil. 

She studied her lessons for the next day, and though Miss Lawrenceglanced at her from time to time, she never saw anything amiss. 

But when school was over at one o'clock, Marjorie drew a long breath andfairly flew for her hat. 

"Good-bye, dearie, " said Miss Lawrence, as Midge passed her when thelong line filed out. 

"Good-bye!" was the smiling response, and in two minutes more Mopsy wasskipping and jumping across the playground. 

"Hello, King!" she called. "Where's Kitty? Oh, here you are! Now we canall go home together. What shall we do this afternoon? I want to dosomething jolly to take the taste of school out of my mouth. "

"Come over to our house and play in the hay, " said Dick Fulton. 

"All right, we will. I'll have my practising done by three o'clock, andwe'll come then. "

A little later, and the three Maynards flew in at their own gate, andfound a warm welcome and a specially good luncheon awaiting them. 

"I got along pretty well, Mother, " said Marjorie, as they all told theirmorning's experiences. "Only I couldn't help playing paper boats. " Shetold the whole story, and Mrs. Maynard smiled as she said:

"Marjorie, you are incorrigible; but I fear you will only learn byexperience----"

"What is incorrigible?" asked Marjorie. 

"It's 'most too big a word for you to understand, " said her mother, "butit means you must just keep on everlastingly trying to be good. "

"I will, " said Mops, heartily, and then she turned her attention to thechicken pie before her. 

CHAPTER VII

THE JINKS CLUB

Saturday was hailed with delight by the four Maynards. 

Now that school had begun, a whole playday meant more than it did invacation time, when all days were playdays. 

It was a glorious September day, and as it was an early autumn, manyleaves had fallen and lay thick upon the ground. 

"I know what to do, " said Marjorie, as directly after breakfast they puton hats and coats for outdoor play of some sort. "Let's makeleaf-houses. "

"All right, " said Kingdon, "and let's telephone for the others. "

"The others" always meant the two Fultons and Kitty's friend, DorothyAdams. 

Rosy Posy was too little to have a special chum, so Boffin was hercompanion. 

Leaf-houses was a favorite game with all of them, and soon the threeguests came skipping through the gate. 

The leaves had been raked from the lawn, but down in the orchard theywere on the ground like a thick carpet. The orchard had many maples andelms, as well as fruit trees, so there were leaves of all sorts. 

"Isn't it fun to scuffle through 'em!" said Marjorie, as she led theway, shuffling along, almost knee-deep in the brown, dry leaves. 

"More fun to roll!" cried Dick, tumbling down and floundering about. 

Down went Rosy Posy in imitation of Dick's performance, and then theyall fell into the leaves, and burrowed about like rabbits. 

Presently Marjorie's head emerged like a bright-eyed turtle poking outfrom its shell, and shaking the dead leaves out of her curls, she said:"Come on, let's make houses. King, won't you and Dick get some rakes?"

The boys flew off to the toolhouse, and came back with several rakes, both wood and iron ones. 

"Here's all we can find, " said King. "Some of us can rake, and some canbuild things. "

They all set to work with a will, and soon two houses were in process ofconstruction. 

These houses were, of course, merely a ground plan, and long, low pilesof leaves divided the rooms. Openings in these partitions made doors, and the furniture was also formed of heaps of leaves. A long heap was asofa, and a smaller heap a chair, while a round, flat heap was a table. 

King, Gladys, and Dorothy were one family, while Dick, Marjorie, andKitty were the other. 

Rosy Posy was supposed to be an orphan child, who lived with one familyor the other in turn, as suited her somewhat fickle fancy. 

In each family the children represented father, mother, and daughter, and they were pleasantly neighborly, or at odds with each other, asoccasion required. 

To-day the spirit of adventure was strong in Marjorie, and she decreedthey should play robbers. 

This was always a good game, so they all agreed. 

"First, King's family must be robbed, " said Midget; "and then, after youcatch us, you rob us. "

The burglaries were thus amicably planned, and Kingdon and his family, lying on leaf-couches, fell into a deep, but somewhat noisy slumber. Indeed, their snoring was loud enough to frighten away most robbers. 

Rosy Posy didn't count in this game, so she was allowed to wander in andout of either house. 

When the Kingdon family were _very_ sound asleep, the Dick family creptsoftly in through the open doors, and endeavored to steal certainvaluable silver from the sideboard. This silver was admirablyrepresented by chips and sticks. 

Dick and Marjorie had secured their booty and were carefully sneakingaway when King awoke, and with a howl pounced upon Kitty, who was stillindustriously stealing silver. 

This, of course, was part of the game, and Dick and Midget wrung theirhands in despair as they saw their daughter forcibly detained by themaster of the house. 

Then Gladys and Dorothy were awakened by the noise, and added theirfrightened screams to the general hullaballoo. 

Kitty was bound hand and foot in the very dining-room where the silverhad been, and King went valiantly out to hunt the other marauders. Thenthe game was for King and his family to try to catch Dick and Midget, orfor Kitty's parents to release her from her bondage. 

At last, as King and Gladys were both engaged in chasing Dick, Marjoriefound an opportunity to free Kitty, and then the game began again, theother way round. 

At last they tired of hostilities and agreed to rebuild their houses, combining them in one, and calling it a big hotel. 

"Or a clubhouse, " said King, who had recently visited one with hisfather, and had been much impressed. 

"Clubhouses are grand, " he said. "They have porches, and swimming-pools, and gyms, and dining-rooms, and everything!"

So the architecture was changed, and soon a fine clubhouse was outlinedin leafy relief. 

"Then if this is a clubhouse, we're a club, " said Kitty, thoughtfully. 

"Oh, let's be a club!" exclaimed Marjorie. "Clubs are lots of fun. Imean children's clubs--not big ones like father's. "

"What do clubs do?" asked Dorothy, who had a wholesome fear of some ofthe Maynards' escapades. 

"Why, we can do anything we want to, if we're a club, " said Dick. "Ithink it would be fun. What shall we do?"

"Let's cut up jinks, " said Marjorie, who was especially energetic thatday. 

"And let's call it the Jinks Club, " suggested Gladys. 

"Goody! Goody!!" cried Midge. "Just the thing, Glad! And then we can cutup any jinks we want to, --as long as they're good jinks, " she added, thoughtfully. 

"What do you mean by that?" demanded King. 

"Well, you see, last summer at Grandma's, she told me there were goodjinks and bad jinks. She meant just plain fun, or real mischief. And Ipromised I'd cut up only good jinks. "

"All right, " said Dick, "I'll agree to that. We just want to have fun, you know; not get into mischief. "

So, as they were all agreed on this, the Jinks Club was started. 

"I'll be president, " volunteered Marjorie. 

"Does somebody have to be president?" asked Gladys. "And does thepresident have all the say?"

"Let's all be presidents, " said King. "I know clubs usually have onlyone; but who cares? We'll be different. "

"All right, " said Marjorie. "And, anyway, we won't need a secretary andtreasurer and such things, so we'll each be president. I think that willbe more fun, too. "

"Me be president, " announced Rosy Posy, "an' Boffin be a president, too. "

"Yes, " said King, smiling at his baby sister, "you and Boff and all therest of us. Then, you see, we can all make rules, if we want to. "

"We don't need many rules, " said Dick. "Just a few about meetings andthings. When shall we meet?"

"Every day after school, and every Saturday, " said Marjorie, who was ofa whole-souled nature. 

"Oh, no!" said Gladys. "I know Mother won't let me come as often asthat. "

"Don't let's have special times, " said King. "Just whenever we're alltogether, we'll have a meeting. "

This was agreed to, but Marjorie didn't seem quite satisfied. 

"It doesn't seem like a real club, " she said, "unless we have dues andbadges and things like that. "

"Huh, dues!" said King. "I want to spend my money for other thingsbesides dues to an old club! What would we do with the dues, anyway?"

"Oh, save them up in the treasury, " said Marjorie, "until we had enoughto go to the circus, or something nice like that. "

This sounded attractive, and King reconsidered. 

"Well, I don't mind, " he said. "But I won't give all my money. I havefifty cents a week. I'll give ten. "

"So will I, " said Dick, and the others all agreed to do the same. 

Of course, Rosy Posy didn't count, so this made sixty cents a week, andfurthermore it necessitated a treasurer. 

"Let's each be treasurer, " said King, remembering how well hispresidential plan had succeeded. 

"No, " said Midget; "that's silly. I'll be treasurer, and I'll keep allthe money safely, until we want to use it for something nice. "

"Yes, let's do that, " said Gladys. "Mopsy's awfully careful about suchthings, and she'll keep the money better than any of us. I haven't minehere now; I'll bring it over this afternoon. "

"I don't care much about the money part, " said King. "I want to cut upjinks. When do we begin?"

"Right now!" said Marjorie, jumping up. "The first jink is to bury Kingin leaves!"

The rest caught the idea, and in a moment the luckless Kingdon was onhis back and held down by Dick, while the girls piled leaves all overhim. They left his face uncovered, so he could breathe, but they heapedleaves over the rest of him, and packed them down firmly, so he couldn'tmove. 

When he was thoroughly buried, Marjorie said: "Now we'll hide. Don'tstart to hunt till you count fifty, King. "

"One, two, three, " began the boy, and the others flew off in alldirections. 

All except Rosy Posy. She remained, and, patting King's cheek with herfat little hand, said: "Me'll take care of you, Budder. Don't ky. "

"All right, Baby, --thirty-six, thirty-seven, thirty-eight, --take thatleaf out of my eye! thirty-nine, forty--thank you, Posy. "

A minute more, and King shouted "Fifty! Coming, ready or not!" and, shaking himself out of his leaf-heap, he ran in search of the others. Rosy Posy, used to being thus unceremoniously left, tumbled herself andBoffin into the demolished leaf-heap, and played there contentedly. 

King hunted for some minutes without finding anybody. Then a voice rightover his head said, "Oo-ee!"

He looked up quickly, but saw only a tree which had not yet shed itsfoliage, and who was up there he could not guess from the voice. 

If he guessed wrong, he must be "It" over again, so he peered cautiouslyup into the branches. 

"Who are you?" he called. 

"Oo-ee!" said a voice again, but this time it sounded different. 

"Here goes, then, " said King, and he swung himself up into the lowerbranches, keeping sharp watch lest his quarry elude him, and slip downthe other side. 

But once fairly up in the tree, he found the whole five there awaitinghim, and as they all dropped quickly to the ground, and ran for "home"he had to jump and follow, to get there first himself. 

The jolly game of Hide-and-Seek lasted the rest of the morning, and thenthe little guests went home, promising to come back in the afternoon andbring their contributions to the treasury of the "Jinks Club. "

The afternoon meeting found the Maynards in spandy-clean clothes, sitting on the side veranda. 

"Mother says we're not to romp this afternoon, " explained Marjorie. "Shesays we may swing, or play in the hammock, or on the lawn, but we can'tgo to the orchard. "

"All right, " said good-natured Dick; "and, say, I've been thinking overour club, and I think we ought to be more like a real club. Why not haveregular meetings, and have programmes and things?"

"Oh!" groaned King. "Speak pieces, do you mean?"

"No; not that. We get enough of speaking pieces, Friday afternoons, inschool. I mean, --oh, pshaw, I don't know what I mean!"

"You mean read minutes, and things like that, " suggested Marjorie, helpfully. 

"Yes, " said Dick, eagerly, "that's just what I mean. "

"All right, " said Marjorie, "I'll be secretary, and write them. "

"Now, look here, Midge, " said Kingdon, "you can't be everything! Youwant to be president and treasurer and secretary and all. Perhaps you'dlike to be all the members!"

"Fiddlesticks, King!" said Marjorie; "nobody else seems to want to beanything. Now, I'll tell you what, let's have six things tobe, --officers, you know, and then we'll each be one. "

"That's a good way, " said Gladys. "You be treasurer, Marjorie, 'causeyou're so good at arithmetic, and you can take care of our money. Dickcan be secretary, 'cause he writes so well. "

"I will, " said Dick, "if King will be president. He's best forthat, --and then, Gladys, you can be vice-president. "

"What can Dorothy and I be?" asked Kitty, who didn't see many officesleft. 

Marjorie considered. "You can be the committee, " she said, at last. "They always have a committee to decide things. "

This sounded pleasing, and now all were satisfied. 

"Well, if I'm treasurer, " said Marjorie, "I'll take up the collectionnow. "

Promptly five dimes were handed to her, and, adding one of her own, sheput them all into a little knitted silk purse she had brought for thepurpose. 

"Is there any further business to come before this meeting?" asked thePresident, rolling out his words with great dignity, as befitted hisposition. 

"No, sir, " said Kitty; "I'm the committee to decide things, and I saythere isn't any more business. So what do we do next?"

"I'll tell you!" cried Midget, in a sudden burst of inspiration; "let'sgo down to Mr. Simmons' and all have ice-cream with our money in thetreasury. I'll ask Mother if we may. "

"But, Mopsy!" cried King, in surprise. "I thought we were to save thatto go to the circus. "

"Oh, pshaw! Father'll take us to the circus. Or we can save next week'smoney for that. But, truly, I feel like cutting up jinks, and we can'tplay in the orchard, and it would be lots of fun to go for ice-cream, all together. "

"It would be fun, " said Dick; and then they all agreed to Marjorie'splan. 

Mrs. Maynard listened with amusement to the story, and then said theymight go if they would behave like little ladies and gentlemen andreturn home inside of an hour. 

Off they started, and a more decorous-looking crowd than the Jinks Clubone would not wish to see!

Mr. Simmons' Ice-Cream Garden was a most attractive place. 

It was a small grove, by the side of a small stream, and the tables werein a sort of pavilion that overlooked the water. 

The children were welcomed by the good-natured old proprietor, who hadserved his ice-cream to their parents when they were children. 

"And what kind will you have?" asked Mr. Simmons, after they were seatedaround a table. 

This required thought, but each finally chose a favorite mixture, andsoon they were enjoying the pink or white pyramids that were broughtthem. 

"I do think the Jinks Club is lovely, " said Kitty, as she gazed out overthe water and contentedly ate her ice-cream. 

"So do I, " said Dorothy, who always agreed with her adored chum, butwas, moreover, happy on her own account. 

"I shall write all this up in the minutes!" declared Dick. "And whenshall we have our next meeting?"

"Next Saturday, " said Kitty. "I'm the committee, and I decide things. "

"So do I, " said Dorothy, and they all agreed to meet the next Saturdaymorning. 

CHAPTER VIII

SPELLING TROUBLES

"What _is_ the matter, Midge?" said her father, "You sigh as if you'dlost your last friend. "

The family were in the pleasant living-room one evening, just afterdinner. 

All, that is, except Rosy Posy, who had gone to bed long ago. Kingdonwas reading, and Kitty was idly playing with the kitten, while Marjorie, her head bent over a book on the table, was abstractedly moving her lipsas if talking to herself. 

"Oh, Father! it's this horrid old spelling lesson. I just _can't_ learnit, and that all there is about it!"

"Can't learn to spell? Bring me your book, and let me have a look atit. "

Very willingly Marjorie flew to her father's side, and, big girl thoughshe was, perched herself on his knee while she showed him the page. 

"Just look! There's 'deleble' spelled with an e, and 'indelible' with ani! Why can't they spell them alike?"

"I think myself they might as well have done so, " said Mr. Maynard, "but, since they didn't, we'll have to learn them as they are. Where isyour lesson?"

"All that page. And they're fearfully hard words. And words I'll neveruse anyway. Why would I want to use 'harassed' and 'daguerreotype' and'macaroni' and such words as those?"

Mr. Maynard smiled at the troubled little face. 

"You may not want to use them, dearie, but it is part of your educationto learn to spell them. Come, now, I'll help you, and we'll soon putthem through. Let's pick out the very hardest one first. "

"All right; 'daguerreotype' is the hardest. "

"Oh, pshaw, no! That's one of the very easiest. Just remember that itwas a Frenchman named Daguerre who invented the process; then you onlyhave to add 'o' and 'type, ' and there you are!"

"Why, that _is_ easy! I'll never forget that. 'Macaroni' is a hard one, though. "

"Why?"

"Oh, because I always put two c's or two r's or two n's in it. "

"Ho, that makes it easy, then. Just remember that there isn't a doubleletter in it, and then spell it just as it sounds. Why, macaroni is solong and thin that there isn't room for a double letter in it. "

"Oh, Father, you make it so easy. Of course I'll remember that, now. "

Down the long list they went, and Mr. Maynard, with some little quip orquibble, made each word of special interest, and so fixed it inMarjorie's memory. At the end of a half-hour she was perfect in thelesson, and had thoroughly enjoyed the learning of it. 

"I wish you'd help me every night, " she said, wistfully. "All this week, anyway. For there's to be a spelling-match on Friday, between our classand Miss Bates' class, and we want to win. But I'm such a bad speller, nobody wants to choose me on their side. "

"They don't, don't they? Well, I rather think we'll change all that. Youand I will attack Mr. Speller every evening, and see if we can'tvanquish him. "

"I think we can, " said Marjorie, her eyes sparkling. "For it's only somefew of those catchy words that I can't seem to learn. But after you helpme they all seem easy. "

So every night that week Midge and her father had a spelling-class oftheir own, and fine work was accomplished. 

The spelling-match was to be on Friday, and Thursday night they were tohave a grand review of all the lessons. Marjorie brought home herschoolbooks on Thursday, and left them in the house while she went outto play. But when she came in to get ready for dinner, her mother wasdressing to go out. 

"Where are you going, Mother?" said Marjorie, looking admiringly at hermother's pretty gown. 

"We're going to Mrs. Martin's to dinner, dearie. She invited us over thetelephone this morning. There's a very nice dinner prepared for youchildren, and you must have a good time by yourselves, and not belonesome. Go to bed promptly at nine o'clock, as we shall be out late. "

"Is father going, too?" cried Marjorie, aghast. 

"Yes, of course. You may fasten my glove, Midget, dear. "

"But I want father to help me with my spelling. "

"I thought about that, Mops, " said her father, coming into the room. "And I'm sorry I have to be away to-night. But I'll tell you what we'lldo. When is this great spelling-match, --to-morrow?"

"Yes, to-morrow afternoon. "

"Well, you study by yourself this evening, and learn all you can. Thenskip to bed a bit earlier than usual, and then hop up early to-morrowmorning. You and I will have an early breakfast, at about seven o'clock. Then from half-past seven to half-past eight I'll drill you in that oldspeller till you can spell the cover right off it. "

"All right, " said Marjorie. "It's really just as well for me to studyalone to-night, and then you can help me a lot to-morrow morning. Butwon't it make you too late going to business?"

"No, I'll take a half-hour off for your benefit. If I leave here byhalf-past eight that will do nicely, and that's about the time you wantto go to school. "

So the matter was settled, and Mr. And Mrs. Maynard drove away, leavingthe three children to dine by themselves. The meal was a merry one, forwhen thus left to themselves the children always "pretended. "

"I'm a princess, " said Marjorie, as she seated herself in her mother'splace. "These dishes are all gold, and I'm eating birds of paradise withnectarine sauce. "

Even as she spoke, Sarah brought her a plate of soup, and Midgeproceeded to eat it with an exaggerated air of grandeur, which shethought befitted a princess. 

"I'm not a prince, " said Kingdon. "I'm an Indian chief, and I'm eatingwild boar steak, which I shot with my own trusty bow and arrows. "

"I'm a queen in disguise, " said Kitty. "I'm hiding from my pursuers, soI go around in plain, dark garbs, and no one knows I'm a queen. "

"How do we all happen to be dining at one table?" asked Marjorie. 

"It's a public restaurant, " said King. "We all came separately, and justchanced to sit at the same table. May I ask your name, Madam?"

"I'm the Princess Seraphina, " said Marjorie, graciously. "My home is inthe sunny climes of Italy, and I'm travelling about to see the world. And you, noble sir, what is your name?"

"I am Chief Opodeldoc, of the Bushwhack Tribe. My tomahawk is in mybelt, and whoever offends me will add his scalp to my collection!"

"Oh, sir, " said Kitty, trembling; "I pray you be not so fierce ofmanner! I am most mortal timid. "

Kitty had a fine dramatic sense, and always threw herself into her partwith her whole soul. The others would sometimes drop back into theirevery-day speech, but Kitty was always consistent in her assumedcharacter. 

"Is it so, fair Lady?" said King, looking valiant. "Have no fear of me. Should aught betide I will champion thy cause to the limit. "

"And mine?" said Marjorie. "Can you champion us both, Sir Opodeldoc?"

"Aye, that can I. But I trust this is a peaceful hostelry. I see no signof warfare. "

"Nay, nay, but war may break out apace. Might I enquire your name, fairlady?"

"Hist!" said Kitty, her finger on her lip, and looking cautiously about, "I am, of a truth, the Queen of--of Macedonia. But disguised as a poorwaif, I seek a hiding-place from my tormentors. "

"Why do they torment you?"

"'Tis a dark secret; ask me not. But tell of yourself, PrincessSeraphina. Dost travel alone?"

"Yes; with but my suite of armed retainers. Cavalrymen and infantryattend my way, and twelve ladies-in-waiting wait on me. "

"A great princess, indeed, " said King, in admiration. "We are well met!"

"Methinks I am discovered!" cried Kitty, as Sarah approached her with adish of pudding. "This damsel! She is of my own household. Ha! Doth sherecognize me?"

Although used to the nonsense of the children, Sarah couldn't entirelyrepress a giggle as Kitty glared at her. 

"Eat your dinner, Miss Kitty, " she said, "an' don't be afther teasin'me. "

"Safe!" exclaimed Kitty. "She knows me not! 'Kitty' she calls me! Ha!"

The play went on all through the meal, for the Maynards never tired ofthis sort of fun. 

"I'm going out for a few minutes, " said King, as they at last rose fromthe table. "Father said I might go down to Goodwin's to get slides formy camera. I won't be gone long. "

"All right, " said Marjorie, "I'm going to study my spelling. What areyou going to do, Kit?"

"I'm going up to the playroom. Nannie is going to tell me stories whileshe sews. "

So Marjorie was alone in the living-room as she took up her school-bagto get her spelling-book from it. To her dismay it was not there! Thebook which she had mistakenly brought for her speller was her mentalarithmetic; they were much the same size, and she often mistook one forthe other. 

But this time it was a serious matter. The spelling-match was to be thenext day, and how could she review her lessons without her book?

Her energetic mind began to plan what she could do in the matter. 

It was already after seven o'clock, quite too late to go to theschoolhouse after the missing book. If King had been at home she wouldhave consulted him, but she had no one of whom to ask advice. 

She remembered what her father had said about getting up early the nextmorning, and she wondered if she couldn't get up even earlier still, andgo to the schoolhouse for the book before breakfast. She could get thekey from the janitor, who lived not far from her own home. 

It seemed a fairly feasible plan, and, though she would lose herevening's study, she determined to go to bed early, and rise at daybreakto go for the book. 

"I'll write a note to mother, " she thought, "telling her all about it, and I'll leave it on her dressing-table. Then, when she hears meprowling out at six o'clock to-morrow morning, she'll know what I'm upto. "

The notion of an early morning adventure was rather attractive, butsuddenly Marjorie thought that she might not be able to get the key fromthe janitor so early as that. 

"Perhaps Mr. Cobb doesn't get up until seven or later, and I can't waittill then, " she pondered. "I've a good notion to go for that keyto-night. Then I can go to the schoolhouse as early as I choose in themorning without bothering anybody. "

She rose and went to the window. It was quite dark, for, though thestreets were lighted, the lights were far apart, and there was no moon. 

Of course, Marjorie never went out alone in the evening, but this wassuch an exceptional occasion, she felt sure her parents would not blameher. 

"If only King was here to go with me, " she thought. But King was off onhis own errand, and she knew that when he returned he would want to fixhis camera, and, anyway, it would be too late then. 

Mr. Cobb's house was only three blocks away, and she could run downthere and back in ten minutes. 

Deciding quickly that she must do it, Marjorie put on her coat and hatand went softly out at the front door. She felt sure that if she toldNurse Nannie or Kitty of her errand, they would raise objections, so shedetermined to steal off alone. "And then, " she thought, "it will be funto come home and ring the bell, and see Sarah's look of astonishment tofind me at the door!"

It was a pleasant night, though cool, and Marjorie felt a thrill ofexcitement as she walked down the dark path to the gate, and then alongthe street alone. 

In a few moments she reached Mr. Cobb's house, and rang the doorbell. Mr. Cobb was not at home, but when Mrs. Cobb appeared at the door, Marjorie made known her errand. 

"Why, bless your heart, yes, little girl, " said the kindly disposedwoman. "I'll let you take the key, of course. Mr. Cobb, he always keepsit hangin' right here handy by. So you're goin' over to the school atsun-up! Well, well, you've got spunk, haven't you, now? And don't botherto bring 't back. Mr. Cobb, he can stop at your house for it, as he goesto the school at half-past seven. Mebbe he'll get there 'fore you do, after all. I dunno if you'll find it so easy to wake up at six o'clockas you think. "

"Oh, yes I will, Mrs. Cobb, " said Midget. "I'm going to set an alarmclock. The only trouble is that will awaken my sister, too. But I'spect she'll go right to sleep again. You see it's a _very_ importantlesson, and I _must_ have that book. "

"All right, little lady. Run along now and get to bed early. Are youafraid? Shall I walk home with you?"

"Oh, no, thank you. It's only three blocks, and I'll run all the way. I'm ever so much obliged for the key. "

"Oh, that's all right. I'm glad to accommodate you. Good-night. "

"Good-night, Mrs. Cobb, " said Marjorie, and in another moment the gateclicked behind her. 

As she reached the first turning toward her own home, she looked off inthe other direction, where the schoolhouse stood. It was several blocksaway, and Marjorie was thinking how she would run over there the nextmorning. And then a crazy thought jumped into her brain. Why not go now?Then she could study this evening, after all. It was dark, to be sure, but it was not so very late, --not eight o'clock yet. 

The thought of entering the empty schoolhouse, alone, and in utterdarkness, gave her a thrill of fear, but she said to herself:

"How foolish! There's nothing to be afraid of in an empty schoolhouse. I can feel my way to our classroom, and the street lights will shine insome, anyway. Pooh, I guess I wouldn't be very brave if I was afraid ofnothing! And just to think of having that book to-night! I can get itand be back home in twenty minutes. I believe I'll do it!"

Marjorie hesitated a moment at the corner. Then she turned away from herhome and toward the schoolhouse, and took a few slow steps. 

"Oh, pshaw!" she said to herself. "Don't be a coward, Marjorie Maynard!There's nothing to hurt you, and if you scoot fast, it won't take tenminutes to get that book. "

In a sudden accession of bravery, Marjorie started off at a brisk pace. 

As she went on, her courage ebbed a little, but a dogged determinationkept her from turning back. 

"I won't be a baby, or a 'fraid cat!" she said angrily, to herself. "I'mnot doing anything wrong, and there's no reason at all to be frightened. But I do wish it wasn't so dark. "

The part of town where the school stood was less thickly settled thanwhere Marjorie lived, and she passed several vacant lots. This made itseem more lonely, and the far-apart street lights only seemed to makedarker the spaces between. 

But Marjorie trudged on, grasping the key, and roundly scolding herselffor being timid. 

CHAPTER IX

A REAL ADVENTURE

When at last she stood on the stone steps of the schoolhouse, hercourage returned, and, without hesitation, she thrust the key in thelock of the door. 

It turned with a harsh, grating sound, and the little girl's heart beatrapidly as she pushed open the heavy door. The hall was as black as adungeon, but by groping around she found the banister rail, and so madeher way upstairs. 

Her resolution was undaunted, but the awful silence of the empty, darkplace struck a chill to her heart. She ran up the stairs, and tried tosing in order to break that oppressive silence. But her voice soundedqueer and trembly, and it made echoes that were worse than no sound atall. 

She had to go up two flights of stairs, and as she reached the top ofthe second flight she was near her own classroom. As she turned thedoorknob, the street door, downstairs, which she had left open, suddenlyslammed shut with a loud bang. The sound reverberated through thebuilding, and Midget stood still, shaking with an unconquerable nervousdread. She didn't know whether the door blew shut or had been slammed toby some person. She no longer pretended to herself that she was notfrightened, for she was. 

"I know I'm silly, " she thought, as two big tears rolled down hercheeks, "but if I can just get that book, and get out of here, won't Irun for home!"

Feeling her way, she stumbled into the classroom. A faint light came infrom the street, but not enough to allow her to distinguish objectsclearly. Indeed, it cast such wavering, ghostly shadows that the totaldarkness was preferable. 

Counting the desks as she went along, she came at last to her own, andfelt around in it for her speller. 

"There you are!" she exclaimed, triumphantly, as she clutched the book. And somehow the feeling of the familiar volume took away some of theloneliness. 

But her trembling fingers let her desk-cover fall with another of thoseresounding, reëchoing slams that no one can appreciate who has not heardthem under similar circumstances. 

By this time Marjorie was thoroughly frightened, though she herselfcould not have told what she was afraid of. Grasping the preciousspeller, she started, with but one idea in her mind, --to get downstairsand out of that awful building as quickly as possible. 

She groped carefully for the newel-post, for going down was moredangerous than coming up, and she feared she might fall headlong. 

Safely started, however, she almost ran downstairs, and reached theground floor, only to find the front door had a spring-lock, which hadfastened itself when the door banged shut. 

Marjorie's heart sank within her when she realized that she was lockedin the schoolhouse. 

She thought of the key, but she had stupidly left that on the outside ofthe door. 

"But anyway, " she thought, "I don't believe you have to have a key onthe inside. You don't to our front door at home. You only have to pullback a little brass knob. "

The thought of home made a lump come into poor Marjorie's throat, andthe tears came plentifully as she fumbled vainly about the lock of thedoor. 

"Oh, dear, " she said to herself, "just s'pose I have to stay here allnight. I _won't_ go upstairs again. I'll sit on the steps and wait tillmorning. "

But at last something gave way, the latch flew up, and Marjorie swungthe big door open, and felt the cool night air on her face once more. 

It was very dark, but she didn't mind that, now that she was releasedfrom her prison, and, after making sure that the door was securelyfastened, she put the key safely in her pocket, and started off towardhome. 

The church clock struck eight just as she reached her own door, and shecould hardly believe she had made her whole trip in less than an hour. It seemed as if she had spent a whole night alone in the schoolhouse. She rang the bell, and in a moment Sarah opened the door. 

"Why, Miss Marjorie, wherever have you been?" cried the astonished maid. "I thought you was up in your own room. "

"I've been out on an errand, Sarah, " answered Midge, with great dignity. 

"An errand, is it? At this time o' night! I'm surprised at ye, MissMarjorie, cuttin' up tricks just because the folks is away. "

"Hello, Mopsy!" cried Kingdon, jumping downstairs three at a time. "Whathave you been up to now, I'd like to know. "

"Nothing much, " said Marjorie, gaily. Her spirits had risen since shefound herself once again in her safe, warm, light home. "Don't bother menow, King; I want to study. "

"Mother'll study you when she knows that you've been out walking aloneat night. "

"I don't want you to tell her, King, because I want to tell her myself. "

"All right, Midge. I know it's all right, only I think you might tellme. "

"Well, I will, " said Midget, in a sudden burst of confidence. 

Sarah had left the room, so Marjorie told King all about her adventure. 

The boy looked at her with mingled admiration and amazement. 

"You do beat all, Mopsy!" he said. "It was right down plucky of you, but you ought not to have done it. Why didn't you wait till I came home, and I would have gone for you. "

"I didn't mean to go, you know, at first. I just went all of a sudden, after I had really started to come home. I don't think Mother'll mind, when I explain it to her. "

"You don't, hey? Well, just you wait and see!"

It was not easy to settle down to studying the speller, after such anexciting adventure to get it, but Marjorie determinedly set to work, andstudied diligently till nine o'clock, and then went to bed. 

Next morning her father awakened her at an early hour, and a littlebefore seven father and daughter were seated at a cozy little_tête-à-tête_ breakfast. 

At the table Marjorie gave her father a full description of herexperiences of the night before. 

Mr. Maynard listened gravely to the whole recital. 

"My dear child, " he said, when she finished the tale, "you did a verywrong thing, and I must say I think you should have known better. "

"But I didn't think it was wrong, Father. "

"I know you didn't, dearie; but you surely know that you're not allowedout alone at night. "

"Yes; but this was such a very unusual occasion, I thought you'd excuseit. And, besides King was out at night. "

"But he's a boy, and he's two years older than you are, and then he hadour permission to go. "

"That's just it, Father. I felt sure if you had known all about it, youwould have given me permission. I was going to telephone and ask you ifI might go to Mr. Cobb's, and then I thought it would interrupt thedinner party. And I didn't think you'd mind my running around to Mr. Cobb's. You know when I went there, I never thought of going to theschoolhouse last night. "

"How did you come to think of it?"

"Why, I wanted my speller so much, and when I saw the schoolhouse roofsticking up above the trees, it made me think I could just as well runover there then, and so have my book at once. "

"And you had no qualms of conscience that made you feel you were doingsomething wrong?"

"No, Father, " said Marjorie, lifting her clear, honest eyes to his. "Ithought I was cowardly to be so afraid of the dark. But I knew it wasn'tmischief, and I didn't think it was wrong. Why was it wrong?"

"I'm not sure I can explain, if you don't see it for yourself. But it isnot right to go alone to a place where there may be unseen or unknowndangers. "

"But, Father, in our own schoolhouse? Where we go every day? What harmcould be there?"

"My child, it is not right for any one to go into an untenantedbuilding, alone, in the dark. And especially it is not right for alittle girl of twelve. Now, whether you understand this or not, you mustremember it, and _never_ do such a thing again. "

"Oh, Father, indeed I'll never forget that old speller again. "

"No; next time you'll do some other ridiculous, unexpected thing, andthen say, 'I didn't know it was wrong. ' Marjorie, you don't seem to havegood common-sense about these things. "

"That's what grandma used to say, " said Midge, cheerfully. "PerhapsI'll learn, as I grow up, Father. "

"I hope you will, my dear. And now, I'm not going to punish you for thisperformance, for I see you honestly meant no wrong, but I do positivelyforbid you to go out alone after dark without permission; no matter_what_ may be the exceptional occasion. Will you remember that?"

"Yes, indeed! That isn't hard to remember. And I've never wanted tobefore, and I don't believe I'll ever want to again, until I'm grown up. Do you?"

"You're a funny child, Midget, " said her father, looking at herquizzically. "But, do you know, I rather like you; and I suppose you getyour spirit of adventure and daring from me. Your Mother is most timidand conventional. What do you s'pose she'll say to all this, Mopsymine?"

"Why, as you think it was wrong, I s'pose she'll think so, too. I just_can't_ make it seem wrong, myself, but as you say it was, why, ofcourse it must have been, and I promise never to do it again. Now, ifyou've finished your coffee, shall we begin to spell?"

"Yes, come on. Since you have the book, we must make the most of ourtime. "

An hour of hard work followed. Mr. Maynard drilled Marjorie over andover on the most difficult words, and reviewed the back lessons, untilhe said he believed she could spell down Noah Webster himself. 

"And you must admit, Father, " said Marjorie, as they closed the book atlast, "that it's a good thing I did get my speller last night, for I hada whole hour's study on it, and besides I didn't have to go over therefor it this morning. "

"It would have been a better thing, my child, if you had remembered itin the first place. "

"Oh, yes, of course. But that was a mistake. I suppose everybody makesmistakes sometimes. "

"I suppose they do. The proper thing is to learn by our mistakes what isright and what is wrong. Now the next time you are moved to do anythingas unusual as that, ask some one who knows, whether you'd better do itor not. Now, here's Mother, we'll put the case to her. "

In a few words, Mr. Maynard told his wife about Marjorie's escapade. 

"My little girl!" cried Mrs. Maynard, catching Marjorie in her arms. "Why, Midget, darling, how _could_ you do such a dreadful thing? Oh, thank Heaven, I have you safe at home again!"

Marjorie stared. Here was a new view of the case. Her mother seemed tothink that she had been in danger rather than in mischief. 

"Oh, " went on Mrs. Maynard, still shuddering, "my precious child, alonein that great empty building!"

"Why, Mother, " said Marjorie, kissing her tears away, "that was just it. An empty building couldn't hurt me! Do you think I was naughty?"

"Oh, I don't know whether you were naughty, or not; I'm so glad to haveyou safe and sound in my arms. "

"I'll never do it again, Mother. "

"Do it again? Well, I rather think you won't! I shall never leave youalone again. I felt all the time I oughtn't to go off and leave youchildren last night. "

"Nonsense, my dear, " said Mr. Maynard, "the children must be taughtself-reliance. But we'll talk this matter over some other time. Marjorie, you'll be late to school if you're not careful. And listen tome, my child. I don't want you to tell any one of what you did lastevening. It is something that it is better to keep quiet about. Do youunderstand? This is a positive command. Don't ask me why, just promiseto say nothing about it to your playmates or any one. No one knows of itat present, but your mother, Kingdon, and myself. I prefer that no oneelse should know. Will you remember this?"

"Yes, Father; can't I just tell Gladys?"

Mr. Maynard smiled. 

"Marjorie, you are impossible!" he said. "Now, listen! I said tell _noone_! Is Gladys any one?"

"Yes, Father, she is. "

"Very well, then don't tell her. Tell no one at all. Promise me. "

"I promise, " said Midget, earnestly, and then she kissed her parents andran away to school. 

Kingdon had also been bidden not to tell of Marjorie's escapade, and soit was never heard of outside the family. 

When it was time for the spelling-match, Marjorie put away her books, and sat waiting, with folded arms and a smiling face. 

Miss Lawrence was surprised, for the child usually was worried andanxious in spelling class. 

Two captains were chosen, and these two selected the pupils, one by one, to be their aids. 

Marjorie was never chosen until toward the last, for though everybodyloved her, yet her inability to spell was known by all, and she was nota desirable assistant in a match. 

But at last her name was called, and she demurely took her place nearthe foot of the line on one side. 

Gladys was on the other side, near the head. She was a good speller, andrarely made a mistake. 

Miss Lawrence began to give out the words, and the children spelled awayblithely. Now and then one would miss and another would go above. 

To everybody's surprise, Marjorie began to work her way up toward thehead of her line. She spelled correctly words that the others missed, and with a happy smile went along up the line. 

At last the "spelling down" began. This meant that whoever missed a wordmust go to his seat, leaving only those standing who did not miss anyword. 

One by one the crestfallen unsuccessful ones went to their seats, and, to the amazement of all, Marjorie remained standing. At last, there werebut six left in the match. 

"Macaroni, " said Miss Lawrence. 

"M-a-c-c-a-r-o-n-i, " said Jack Norton, and regretfully Miss Lawrencetold him he must sit down. 

Three more spelled the word wrongly, and then it was Marjorie's turn:

"M-a-c-a-r-o-n-i, " said she, triumphantly, remembering her father'sremark that there were no double letters in it. 

Miss Lawrence looked astounded. Now there were left only Marjorie andGladys, one on either side of the room. It was an unfortunate situation, for so fond were the girls of each other that each would almost ratherfail herself than to have her friend fail. 

On they went, spelling the words as fast as Miss Lawrence couldpronounce them. 

Finally she gave Gladys the word "weird. "

It was a hard word, and one often misspelled by people much older andwiser than these children. 

"W-i-e-r-d, " said Gladys, in a confident tone. 

"Next, " said Miss Lawrence, with a sympathetic look at Gladys. 

"W-e-i-r-d, " said Marjorie, slowly. Her father had drilled her carefullyon this word, bidding her remember that it began with two pronouns: thatis, we followed by I. Often by such verbal tricks as this he fastenedthe letters in Marjorie's mind. 

The match was over, and Marjorie had won, for the first time in herlife. 

Gladys was truly pleased, for she would rather have lost to Marjoriethan any one else, and Miss Lawrence was delighted, though mystified. 

"I won! I won!" cried Marjorie, as she ran into the house and found hermother. "Oh, Mother, I won the spelling-match! _Now_, aren't you glad Iwent after my book?"

"I'm glad you won, dearie; but hereafter I want you to stick tocivilized behavior. "

"I will, Mother! I truly will. I'm so glad I won the match, I'll stickto anything you say. "

"Well, my girlie, just try to do what you think Mother wants you to, andtry not to make mistakes. "

CHAPTER X

IN INKY PLIGHT

"It's perfectly fine, Glad; I think it will be the most fun ever. Howmany are you going to have?"

"About thirty, Mother says. I can't ask Kitty, and Dorothy Adams. All onthe list are about as old as we are. "

"Kitty'll be sorry, of course; but I don't believe mother would let hergo in the evening, anyway. She's only nine, you know. "

The two friends, Marjorie and Gladys, were on their way to school, andGladys was telling about a Hallowe'en party she was to have thefollowing week. The party was to be in the evening, from seven tillnine, and, as it was unusual for the girls to have evening parties, theylooked forward to this as a great occasion. Nearly all of the childrenwho were to be invited went to the same school that Gladys did, so shecarried the invitations with her, and gave them around before schoolbegan. 

The invitations were written on cards which bore comical little picturesof witches, black cats, or jack-o'-lanterns, and this was the wording:

 Though the weather's bad or pleasant, You're invited to be present At Miss Gladys Fulton's home On Hallowe'en. Be sure to come. Please accept, and don't decline; Come at seven and stay till nine. 

Needless to say these cards caused great excitement among the favoredones who received them. 

Boys and girls chattered like magpies until the school-bell rang, andthen it was very hard to turn their attention to lessons. 

But Marjorie was trying in earnest to be good in school, and not getinto mischief, so she resolutely put her card away in her desk, andstudied diligently at her lessons. 

Indeed, so well did she study that her lesson was learned before it wastime to recite, and she had a few moments' leisure. 

She took out her pretty card to admire it further, and she scrutinizedclosely the funny old witch riding on a broomstick, after the approvedhabit of witches. 

The witch wore a high-peaked black hat, and her nose and chin were longand pointed. 

Suddenly the impulse seized Marjorie to make for herself a witch's hat. 

She took from her desk a sheet of foolscap paper. But she thought awhite hat would be absurd for a witch. It must be black. How to make thepaper black was the question, but her ingenuity soon suggested a way. 

She took her slate sponge, and dipping it in the ink, smeared it overthe white paper. 

This produced a grayish smudge, but a second and third application madea good black. 

The process, however, of covering the whole sheet of paper with ink wasextremely messy, and before it was finished, Marjorie's fingers weredyed black, and her desk was smudged from one end to the other. 

But so interested was she in making a sheet of black paper that she paidno heed to the untidiness. 

Gladys, who had turned her back on Marjorie, in order to study herlesson without distraction, turned round suddenly and gave anexclamation of dismay. This startled Marjorie, and she dropped hersponge full of ink on her white apron. 

She straightened herself up, with a bewildered air, aghast at the stateof things, and as her curls tumbled over her forehead, she brushed themback with her inky hands. 

This decorated her face with black fingermarks, and several of thepupils, looking round at her, burst into incontrollable laughter. 

Midget was usually very dainty, and neatly dressed, and this besmearedmaiden was a shock to all beholders. 

Miss Lawrence turned sharply to see what the commotion might be, and, when she saw the inky child, she had hard work to control her ownmerriment. 

"What _is_ that all over you, Marjorie?" she said, in as stern tones asshe could command. 

"Ink, Miss Lawrence, " said Midget, demurely, her simple straightforwardgaze fixed on her teacher's face. This calm announcement of a fact alsostruck Miss Lawrence ludicrously, but she managed to preserve a gravecountenance. 

"Yes, I see it's ink. But why do you put it on your face and hands andapron?"

"I don't know, Miss Lawrence. You see, I was using it, and somehow itput itself all over me. "

"What were you doing with it?" Miss Lawrence was really stern now, forshe had advanced to Marjorie's desk, and noted the sponge and paper. 

"Why, I was just making some white paper black. "

"Marjorie, you have been extremely naughty. What possessed you to inkthat large sheet of paper?"

"I wanted to be a witch, " said Marjorie, so ruefully that Miss Lawrencehad to laugh after all. 

"You _are_ one, my child. You needn't ever make any effort in thatdirection!"

"And so, " went on Midget, cheered by Miss Lawrence's laughing face, "Ithought I'd make me a witch's hat, to wear at recess. Truly, I wasn'tgoing to put it on in school. But I had my lessons all done, and so----"

But by this time the whole class was in a gale. 

The inky little girl, so earnestly explaining why she was inky, was afunny sight, indeed. And, as they laughed at her, some big tears ofmortification rolled down her cheeks. 

These she furtively wiped away with her hand, and it is needless to saythat this added the finishing touch to the smudgy black and whitecountenance. 

Miss Lawrence gave up. She laughed until the tears ran down her owncheeks, for Marjorie was really crying now, and her little handkerchiefonly served to spread the inky area around her features. 

"My dear child, " said the teacher, at last, "I don't know exactly whatto do with you. I can't wash that ink from your face, because it won'tcome off with only cold water. You must go home, and yet you can't gothrough the streets that way. But I have a brown veil I will lend you. It is fairly thick, and will at least shield you from observation. "

So Miss Lawrence took Marjorie to the cloak-room, arrayed her in her ownhat and her teacher's veil, and then went with the little girldownstairs to the front door. On the way she talked to her kindly, butshe did not attempt to gloss over her naughty deed. 

"I am sending you home, Marjorie, " she said, "because you are not fit tostay here. If you were, I should keep you in, and punish you. You surelyknew it was wrong to spill ink all over everything. You have ruined yourdesk, to say nothing of your clothes and your own belongings. "

"I'm so sorry, Miss Lawrence, " said penitent Midget. "I just tried to begood this morning. But I happened to think what fun it would be to havea big, high-peaked witch's hat to prance around in at recess; and Ithought I could make the paper black without such a fuss. "

"Well, " said Miss Lawrence, with a sigh, "I don't know what to say toyou. Go home now, and tell your mother all about it. I'll leave thematter of punishment in her hands. I'm sure you didn't mean to dowrong, --you never do, --but, oh, Marjorie, it _was_ wrong!"

"Yes, it was, Miss Lawrence, and I'm awful sorry. I do hope Mother willpunish me. "

Marjorie's hope was so funny that Miss Lawrence smiled, as she kissedthe stained little face through the sheltering veil, and then Midgettrudged off home, thinking that as Miss Lawrence had kissed her, shehadn't been so very bad, after all. 

"What _is_ the matter, child?" exclaimed Mrs. Maynard, as Marjoriemarched into her mother's room. "Why have you that thing on your head, and why are you home from school at this hour?"

Midget couldn't resist this dramatic situation. 

"Guess, " she said, blithely. Her inky hands were in her coat pockets, her apron was covered by her outer garment, and her face was obscured bythe thick brown veil. 

"I can't guess just what's the trouble, " said her mother, "but I doguess you've been getting into some mischief. "

Marjorie was disappointed. 

"Oh, " she said, "I thought you'd guess that I've broken out withsmallpox or measles or something!"

Mrs. Maynard was preoccupied with some intricate sewing, and did notquite catch the first part of Marjorie's remark. But the last words senta shock to her mother-heart. 

"What!" she cried. "What do you mean? Smallpox! Measles! Has it brokenout in the school? Take off that veil!" As she spoke, Mrs. Maynardjumped up from her chair, and ran to her daughter with outstretchedarms. 

This was more interesting, and Midget danced about as she turned herback to her mother to have the veil untied. 

With trembling fingers Mrs. Maynard loosened the knot Miss Lawrence hadtied, and hastily pulled off the veil. Meantime, Midget had thrown offher coat, and stood revealed in all her dreadful inkiness. 

The saucy, blackened face was so roguishly smiling, and Mrs. Maynard wasso grateful not to see a red, feverish countenance, that she sat down ina chair and shook with laughter. 

This was just what Marjorie wanted, and, running to her mother's side, she laughed, too. 

"Get away from me, you disreputable individual, " said Mrs. Maynard, drawing her pretty morning dress away from possible contamination. 

"Oh, Mothery, it's all dry now; it can't hurt you a bit! But isn't itawful?"

"Awful! You scamp, what does it mean?"

"Why, it's ink, Mother, dear; and do you s'pose it will ever come off?"

"No, I don't! I think it's there for the rest of your life. Is that whatyou wanted?"

"No. Not for my whole life. Oh, Mother, can't you get it off with milk, or something?"

Marjorie had seen her mother try to take ink-stains out of white linenwith milk, and, though the operation was rarely entirely successful, shehoped it would work better on her own skin. 

"Milk! No, indeed. Pumice stone might do it, but it would take your skinoff, too. Tell me all about it. "

So the inky little girl cuddled into her mother's arms, which somehowopened to receive the culprit, and she told the whole dreadful story. Mrs. Maynard was truly shocked. 

"I don't wonder Miss Lawrence didn't know what to do with you, " shesaid; "for I'm sure I don't, either. Marjorie, you _must_ have known youwere doing wrong when you began that performance. Now, listen! Ifsomebody had told you of another little girl who cut up just such aprank, what would you have said?"

"I'd have said she ought to know better than to fool with ink, anyway. It's the most get-all-overy stuff. "

"Well, why did you fool with it, then?"

"Well, you see, Mother, I did know it was awful messy, but that know wasin the back of my head, and somehow it slipped away from my memory whenthe thought that I wanted a witch hat came and pushed it out. "

"Now, you're trying to be funny, and I want you to talk sensibly. "

"Yes'm, I am sensible. Honest, the thought about the witch hat was soquick it pushed everything else out of my mind. "

"Even your sense of duty, and your determination to be a good littlegirl. "

"Yes'm; they all flew away, and my whole head was full of how to makethe white paper black. And that was the only way I could think of. "

"Well, have your thoughts that were pushed out come back yet?"

"Oh, yes, Mother; they came back as soon as I found myself all inky. "

"Then, if they've come back, you know you did wrong?"

"Yes, I do know it now. "

"And you know that little girls who do wrong have to be punished?"

"Ye-es; I s'pose I know that. How are you going to punish me?"

"We must discuss that. _I_ think you deserve a rather severe punishment, for this was really, truly mischief. What do you think of staying homefrom Gladys' Hallowe'en party as a punishment?"

"Oh, Moth-er May-nard! You just _can't_ mean _that_!"

"I'm not sure but I do. You _must_ learn, somehow, Midget, that if youdo these awful things, you must have awful punishments. "

"Yes, but to stay home from Gladys' party! Why, those horrid, cruelpeople in the history book couldn't get up a worse punishment than that!Mother, say you don't mean it!"

"I won't decide just now; I'll think it over. Meantime, let's see whatwe can do toward cleaning you up. "

The process was an uncomfortable one, and, after Marjorie's poor littleface and hands had gone through a course of lemon juice, pumice stone, and other ineffectual obliterators, she felt as if she had hadpunishment enough. 

And the final result was a grayish, smeared-looking complexion, verydifferent from her own usual healthy pink and white. 

Greatly subdued, and fearful of the impending punishment, Marjorie layon a couch in her mother's room, resting after the strenuous exertionsof her scrubbing and scouring. 

"I do think I'm the very worst child in the whole world, " she said, atlast. "Isn't it surprising, Mother, that I should be so bad, when you'reso sweet and good? Do you think I take after Father?"

Mrs. Maynard suppressed a smile. 

"Wait till Father comes home, and ask him that question, " she said. 

CHAPTER XI

THE HALLOWE'EN PARTY

Mr. And Mrs. Maynard talked over Marjorie's latest prank, and concludedthat it would indeed be too great a punishment to keep her at home fromthe Hallowe'en party. 

So her punishment consisted in being kept at home from the Saturdaymeeting of the Jinks Club. 

This was indeed a deprivation, as the members of the club were to plangames for the party, but still it was an easier fate to bear thanabsence from the great event itself. 

Marjorie was so sweet and patient as she sat at home, while King andKitty started off for the Jinks Club, that Mrs. Maynard was tempted towaive the punishment and send her along, too. 

But the mother well knew that what she was doing was for her child's owngood, and so she stifled her own desires, and let Marjorie stay athome. 

Midget was restless, though she tried hard not to show it. She fed thegold-fish, she read in her book of Fairy Tales, she tried amusements ofvarious sorts, but none seemed to interest her. In imagination she couldsee the rest of the Jinks Club seated in the bay at Dorothy Adams', chattering about the party. 

"Oh, hum, " sighed Marjorie, as she stood looking out of the playroomwindow, "I do believe I'll never be naughty again. "

"What's 'e matter, Middy?" said Rosy Posy, coming along just then. "Don't you feels dood? Want to p'ay wiv my Boffin Bear?"

Marjorie took the soft, woolly bear, and somehow he was a comforting oldfellow. 

"Let's play something, Rosy Posy, " she said. 

"Ess; p'ay house?"

"No; that's no fun. Let's play something where we can bounce around. Ifeel awful dull. "

"Ess, " said Rosy Posy, who was amiable, but not suggestive. 

"Let's play I'm a hippopotamus, and you're a little yellow chicken, andI'm trying to catch you and eat you up. "

Down went Rosy Posy on all-fours, scrambling across the floor, andsaying, "Peep, peep"; and down went Marjorie, and lumbered across thefloor after her sister, while she roared and growled terrifically. 

Mrs. Maynard heard the noise, but she only smiled to think that Marjoriewas working off her disappointment that way instead of sulking. 

Finally the hippopotamus caught the chicken, and devoured it withfearful gnashing of teeth, the chicken meanwhile giggling with delightat the fun. 

Then they played other games, in which Boffin joined, and alsoMarjorie's kitten, Puff. The days, of late, had been such busy ones thatPuff had been more or less neglected, and as she was a socially inclinedlittle cat, she was glad to be restored to public favor. 

And so the long morning dragged itself away, and at luncheon-time theJinks Club sent its members home. 

The Maynards were always a warm-hearted, generous-minded lot of littlepeople, and, far from teasing Marjorie about her morning at home, Kingand Kitty told her everything that had been discussed and decided at theJinks Club, and brought her the money contributed by the members. 

So graphic were their descriptions that Marjorie felt almost as if shehad been there herself; and her spirits rose as she realized that herpunishment was over, and in the afternoon she could go over to Gladys', and really help in the preparations for the party. 

At last the night of the great occasion arrived. 

Then it was Marjorie's turn to feel sorry for Kitty, because she was tooyoung to go to evening parties. But Mr. And Mrs. Maynard had promisedsome special fun to Kitty at home, and she watched Midget's preparationswith interest quite untinged by envy. 

Kingdon and Marjorie were to go alone at seven o'clock, and Mr. Maynardwas to come after them at nine. 

"But Gladys said, Mother, " said Midge, "that she hoped we'd stay laterthan nine. "

"I hope you won't, " said Mrs. Maynard. "You're really too young to goout at night anyway, but as it's just across the street, I trust you'llget there safely. But you must come home as soon as Father comes foryou. "

"Yes, if he makes us, " said Marjorie, smiling at her lenient father, whowas greatly inclined to indulge his children. 

"If you're not back as soon as I think you ought to be, I shalltelephone for you, " said Mrs. Maynard; but Marjorie knew from hermother's smiling eyes that she was not deeply in earnest. 

Midget had on a very pretty dress of thin white muslin, with ruffles ofembroidery. She wore a broad pink sash, and her dark curls wereclustered into a big pink bow, which bobbed and danced on top of herhead. Pink silk stockings and dainty pink slippers completed hercostume, and her father declared she looked good enough to eat. 

"Eat her up, " said Rosy Posy, who was ecstatically gazing at herbeautiful big sister. "Be a hippottymus, Fader, an' eat Mopsy all up!"

"Not till after she's been to the party, Baby. They'll all be expectingher. "

Kingdon, quite resplendent in the glory of his first Tuxedo jacket, alsolooked admiringly at his pretty sister. 

"You'll do, Mops, " he said. "Come on, let's go. It's just seven. "

Mrs. Maynard put a lovely white, hooded cape of her own round Marjorie, and carefully drew the hood up over her curls. 

"See that your bow is perked up after you take this off, " said themother, as a parting injunction, and then the two children started off. 

The parents watched them from the window, as they crossed the street inthe moonlight, and Mrs. Maynard sighed as she said, "They're alreadybeginning to grow up. "

"But we have some littler ones, " said her husband, gaily, as he preparedfor a game of romps with Kitty and Rosy Posy. 

When King and Marjorie rang the bell at Gladys Fulton's, the door openedvery slowly, and they could hear a low, sepulchral groan. 

Midge clung to her brother's arm, for though she knew everything was tobe as weird and grotesque as possible, yet it was delightful to feel theshudder of surprise. 

As the door opened further, they could see that the house was but dimlylighted, and the hall was full of a deep red glow. This was caused byputting red shades on the lights and standing a semi-transparent redscreen before the blazing wood-fire in the big fireplace. 

The groan was repeated, and then they realized that it said, "Welcome, welcome!" but in such a wailing voice that it seemed to add to thegloom. The voice proceeded from a figure draped in a white sheet. 

"Hello, Ghost!" said King, who knew that Dick Fulton himself was wrappedin the sheet. 

"O-o-o-o-ugh!" groaned the ghost. 

"You don't seem to feel well, " said Marjorie, giggling. "Poor Ghost, whydon't you go to bed?"

But before the ghost could speak again, a gorgeous witch came prancingup, carrying a broomstick wound with red ribbons. The witch was all inred, with a tall peaked hat of red, covered with cabalistic designs cutfrom gilt paper and pasted on. She groaned and wailed, too, and thenspoke in a rapid and unintelligible jargon. 

The Maynards knew that this witch was Gladys, but some of the guests didnot know it, and were greatly mystified. 

A few older persons, whom Mrs. Fulton had invited to help entertain thechildren, were stationed in the various rooms. Dressed in queercostumes, they played bits of weird music on the piano, or struckoccasional clanging notes from muffled gongs. 

All of this greatly pleased Marjorie, who loved make-believe, and shefell into the spirit of the occasion, and went about on tiptoe with asolemn, awed face. Indeed she made the ghosts and witches laugh in spiteof their wish to be awesome. The rooms were decorated to befit the day, and great jack-o'-lanterns grinned from mantels or brackets. Autumnleaves were in profusion, and big black cats cut from paper adorned thewalls. 

Soon the party were all assembled, and then the games began. 

First, all were led out to the kitchen, which was decorated with ears ofcorn, sheaves of grain, and other harvest trophies. 

On a table were dishes of apples and nuts, not for eating purposes, butto play the games with. 

There were several tubs half filled with water, and in these the youngpeople were soon "bobbing for apples. " On the apples were pinned paperson which were written various names, and the merry guests strove tograsp an apple with their teeth, either by its stem or by biting intothe fruit itself. This proved to be more difficult than it seemed, andit was soon abandoned for the game of apple-parings. After an apple waspared in one continuous strip, the paring was tossed three times roundthe head, and then thrown to the floor. The initial it formed there wassaid to represent the initial of the fate of the one who threw it. 

"Pshaw!" said Marjorie, as she tried for the third time, "it alwaysmakes E, and I don't know anybody who begins with E. "

"Perhaps you'll meet some one later, " said Mrs. Fulton, smiling. "You'rereally too young to consider these 'fates' entirely trustworthy. "

Then they all tried blowing out the candle. This wasn't a "Fate" game, but there were prizes for the successful ones. 

Each guest was blindfolded, led to a table where stood a lighted candle, turned round three times, and ordered to blow it out. Only threeattempts were allowed, and not everybody won the little witches, owls, black cats, bats, and tiny pumpkins offered as prizes. 

Marjorie, though securely blindfolded, was fortunate enough to blowstraight and hard, and out went the candle-flame. Her prize was a gaylittle chenille imp, which she stuck in her hair with great glee. 

Then they all went back to the drawing-room, where a pretty game hadbeen arranged during their absence. 

From the chandelier was suspended a large-sized "hoople" that had beentwisted with red ribbon. From this at regular intervals hung, by shortribbons, candies, cakes, apples, nuts, candle ends, lemons, and sundryother things. 

The children stood round in a circle, and the hoop was twisted uptightly and then let to untwist itself slowly. As it revolved, thechildren were to catch the flying articles in their teeth. Any onegetting a lemon was out of the game. Any one getting a candle end had topay a forfeit, but those who caught the goodies could eat them. 

Next, after being seated round the room, each child was given a spoon. 

Then a dish of ice-cream was passed, of which each took a spoonful andate it. In the ice-cream had previously been hidden a dime, a ring, athimble, a button, and a nutmeg. Whoever chanced to get the ring wasdestined to be married first. Whoever took the dime was destined tobecome very wealthy. The thimble denoted a thrifty housewife; thebutton, a life of single blessedness; and the nutmeg, a good cook. 

Shouts of laughter arose, as they learned that Kingdon would be an oldbachelor, and doubts were expressed when Gladys triumphantly exhibitedthe nutmeg. 

"You can't ever learn to cook!" cried Dick. "You're too much of abutterfly. "

"Good cooks make the butter fly, " said Kingdon, and then they alllaughed again. Indeed, they were quite ready to laugh at anything. For aHallowe'en party is provocative of much merriment, and the mostnonsensical speeches were applauded. 

They popped corn, and they melted lead, and they roasted chestnuts, andthen some more difficult experiments were tried. 

Harry Frost and Marjorie were chosen to "Thread the Needle. "

Each held a cupful of water in the left hand, and in the right handHarry held a good-sized needle, while Marjorie held a length of thread. She tried to get the thread through the needle, and he tried to help, orat least not hinder her; but all the time both must have a care that nodrop of water was spilled from their cups. 

The tradition was that if they succeeded in threading the needle withina minute they were destined for each other; but as they couldn't do it, Harry bade her a laughing farewell, and offered the thread to Gladys. They were no more successful, and the game was abandoned as being toodifficult. 

Nutshell boats was a pretty game. The tiny craft, made of English walnutshells, with paper sails, had been prepared beforehand, and the guestswrote their names on the sails, then loaded each boat with a cargo of awish written on a slip of paper. 

The boats were then set afloat in a tub of water, and by gently blowingon them their owners endeavored to make them go ashore, or rather to theside of the tub. As one hit the wood it was taken out, and the ownerjoyfully announced that his or her wish would come true, but many ofthem stayed stubbornly in mid-ocean and refused to land. The unfortunateowners condoled with each other on their hard fate. 

The merry games being over, all went to the dining-room for the feastthat was spread there. 

The children were paired off, and, while Mrs. Fulton played stirringstrains on the piano, they marched around the rooms, and so out to thedining-room. 

The elaborately decorated table called forth shouts of joy, and soon allwere seated in chairs round the room, enjoying the good things. 

On the table were jack-o'-lanterns made not only of pumpkins, but ofsquashes, turnips, and even of big red or green apples. 

Candles were burning in all of these, and standing about the table werequeer little gnomes and witches, made of nuts, or of dried prunes. These little figures were souvenirs, and were distributed to all theguests. The ice-cream was in the form of little yellow pumpkins, andproved to taste quite as good as it looked. There were also moresubstantial viands, such as nut sandwiches, apple salad, pumpkin pie, and grape jelly. Everything had some reference to Hallowe'en or toHarvest Home, and the children were not too young to appreciate this. 

Supper was just about over when Mr. Maynard came after his children. 

"Oh, Father, " cried Marjorie, "you said you wouldn't come till nineo'clock!"

"But it's quarter-past nine now, my daughter. "

"It _can't_ be!" exclaimed Midge, greatly surprised; and everybody said, "Is it, really?"

"But we must have one merry round game before we part, " said Mrs. Fulton, and, though several parents had arrived to take their littleones home, they all agreed to wait ten minutes more. 

So they had a rollicking game of "Going to Jerusalem, " and then theparty was over. 

Marjorie said good-night politely to Mrs. Fulton and the other grown-upswho had entertained them, making her pretty little bobbing courtesy, asshe had been taught to do. 

Kingdon said good-night in his frank, boyish way, and then they went fortheir wraps. 

"Oh, Father, " said Midget as they crossed the street to their own home, "it was the very loveliest party! Can't I sit up for a while and tellyou every single thing that happened?"

"I'd love to have you do that, Mopsy Midget; in fact, I can scarcelywait till morning to hear about it all. But it is my duty as a sternparent to order you off to bed at once. Little girls that wheedle fondfathers into letting them go to evening parties must be content to scootfor bed the minute they get home. "

"All right, then, Father, but do get up early in the morning to hear allabout it, won't you?"

"I'll guarantee to get up as early as you do, Sleepyhead, " said Mr. Maynard, for Marjorie was yawning as if the top of her head was about tocome off. 

Mrs. Maynard accompanied the little girl to her bedroom, but Midge wastoo tired to do more than tell her mother that it was the mostbeautiful party in the world, and that next day she should hear allabout it. 

"I can wait, little girl, " said Mrs. Maynard, as she tucked Midget upand kissed her good-night, but the exhausted child was already in theland of dreams. 

CHAPTER XII

TOTTY AND DOTTY

"Marjorie, " said her mother, one Saturday morning, "I expect Mrs. Harrison to spend the day. She will bring her little baby with her, andI want you to stay at home, so that you can wheel the baby about if sheasks you to do so. "

"I will, Mother. The Jinks Club meets here this afternoon anyway, andthis morning I'll stay at home. Can't I ask Gladys to come over? We'dlove to take care of the baby together. "

"Yes, have Gladys if you like. I don't mind. "

Mrs. Maynard went off to look after housekeeping affairs, and Marjorieran over to ask Gladys to come and spend the morning. 

The two girls were sitting on a bench under a tree on the front lawn, when they saw Mrs. Harrison come in at the gate. She was wheeling herbaby-carriage, and Marjorie ran to meet her. 

"How do you do, Mrs. Harrison?" she said. "Mother is expecting you. Come right on up to the house. Mayn't I wheel Baby for you?"

"I wish you would, my dear. I gave nurse a holiday, but I didn't realizehow tiresome that heavy carriage is, after wheeling it so many blocks. "

Marjorie pushed the little coach, while Gladys danced alongside, talkingto the winsome baby. 

"What's her name, Mrs. Harrison?" she said. 

"Oh!" replied the young mother, "she has the dignified name ofKatharine, but we never call her that. I'm ashamed to say we call herTotty. "

"I think Totty is a lovely name, " said Midget. "It makes me think ofDotty, a baby who lives about a block away from us. She's just the samesize as this baby. "

"Probably she's older, then, " said Mrs. Harrison, complacently; "Totty'sjust a year old, but she's much larger than most children of that age. "

"Yes, I suppose so, " said Midget, wagging her head wisely, though shereally knew little about the comparative sizes of infants. Mrs. Maynardawaited them at the front door, and the procession arrived with aflourish. 

"Here we are, Mother, " announced Marjorie, and she and Gladys liftedbaby Totty out of her nest of pillows and knit afghans. 

"Why, how handy you are, child, " said Mrs. Harrison. "But give her to menow, and I'll look after her. "

Marjorie handed the pretty burden over, and said:

"But mayn't we take her out for a ride, Mrs. Harrison? I'm sure sheought to be out in the fresh air this morning. "

"I'll see about it later, " said Totty's mother, and then she went intothe house with her hostess, and the girls ran away to play. 

But an hour later, Mrs. Maynard called Marjorie, and said she might takethe baby for a ride. 

Gleefully, Marjorie and Gladys ran into the house. 

They helped arrange Miss Totty's coat and cap, and so merry were theythat the baby laughed and crowed, and made friends at once. 

"How she takes to you!" said Mrs. Harrison. "Sometimes she is afraid ofstrangers, but she seems to love you. "

"'Cause I love her, " said Midge; "she's a sweet baby, and so good. Shall I bring her in if she cries, Mrs. Harrison?"

"Yes; but she won't cry. She's more likely to go to sleep. "

The little lady was tucked into her carriage; white mittens on her tinyhands, and a white veil over her rosy face. 

"Does she need the veil?" asked Mrs. Maynard, doubtfully. "It isn't coldto-day. "

"No, " said Mrs. Harrison; "but the breeze is brisk; and she's used to alight veil. I think she'd better wear it. "

"How far can we go?" asked Marjorie, as the preparations were completed. 

"Stay in the yard, mostly, " said her mother. "If you go out in thestreet, don't go more than two blocks away. "

"All right, we won't, " said Marjorie. "Come on, Glad. " The two littlegirls started off with the baby-carriage. 

"She's a careful child, " said Mrs. Harrison, as she noticed Marjorieturn a corner with precision. 

"Yes, " said Mrs. Maynard. "And she's devoted to children. You need haveno fear of Totty. "

"Oh, I haven't, " said Mrs. Harrison, and then the two friends returnedto the house, and sat down for a long chat. 

The girls had a fine time with the baby. They rolled the carriagecarefully, pausing now and then to present their little guest with abright autumn leaf, or a big horse-chestnut, which they picked up fromthe ground. 

"Let's pretend she's an infant princess, and we're kidnapping her, " saidMarjorie. 

"All right; what's her name?"

"Princess Petronella, " said Marjorie, promptly, using a favorite name ofhers. 

"I don't think much of that, " said Gladys; "I like Ermyntrude. "

"Both, then, " said Marjorie; for this was a way they often settled theirdifferences. "Her name is Princess Ermyntrude Petronella; and we callher Ermyn Pet for short. "

"But we ought to call her Princess, " objected Gladys. 

"Well, we will. But remember we're kidnapping her for a great reward. Hist! Some one cometh!"

They hustled the carriage behind a great pine-tree, in pretended fearof a pursuer, though no one was in sight. 

"How much shall we charge for ransom?" asked Gladys, in the hollow voicethat they always used in their make-believe games. 

"A thousand rubbles, " answered Marjorie; "and unless the sum isforthcoming ere set of sun, the Princess shall be, --shall be----"

Marjorie hesitated. It seemed dreadful to pronounce fate, even inmake-believe, on that dimpled, smiling bit of humanity. 

"Shall be imprisoned, " suggested Gladys. 

"Yes, imprisoned in an enchanted castle. "

Totty crowed and gurgled, as if greatly pleased with her destiny, andthe girls wheeled her along the path to the gate. 

"She reminds me so much of Dotty Curtis, " said Midget. "Let's go downthat way and see if Dotty's out. Mother said we could go two blocks. "

On they went, crossing the curbs with great care, and soon turned in atMrs. Curtis' house. 

Sure enough, there was the nurse wheeling the Curtis baby around thedrive. 

"Good-morning, " said Marjorie, who was friendly with Nurse Lisa. "Howis Dotty to-day?"

"She's well, Miss Marjorie, " replied Lisa; "and who's the fine childwith you?"

"This is little Totty Harrison; and I think she looks like Dot. Let'scompare them. "

The veils were taken off the two children, and sure enough they did looksomewhat alike. 

"They're both darlings, " said Marjorie, as she gently replaced Totty'sveil. "Lisa, won't you let Gladys wheel Dotty for awhile, and I'll wheelTotty. That would be fun. "

"I'll willingly leave her with you for a bit, Miss Gladys. I've somework to do in the house, and if you'll keep baby for a few minutes itwould be a great thing for me. Mrs. Curtis is out, but I know she'dtrust you with the child, if the other lady does. But don't go off theplace. "

"No, " said Marjorie; "this place is so big there's room enough anyway. Ipromise you we won't go outside the gates, Lisa. "

"Isn't this fun?" cried Marjorie, as Lisa went away. "Now, we have twokidnapped princesses. Or shall we play house with them?"

"No, let's have them princesses. Now you can name yours Petronella, andI'll name mine Ermyntrude. "

This momentous question settled, the game went on. They pretended thatthe princesses were anxious to get back to their respective homes, andthat they must resort to bribery and strategy to keep them contented. 

"Nay, nay, Princess Petronella, " Marjorie would say; "weep not forfriends and family. I will take you to a far better place, where flowersgrow and birds sing and--and----"

"And gold-fish swim, " went on Gladys, who always followed Marjorie'slead, "and roosters crow--cock-a-doodle-doo!!"

This climax, accompanied as it was by Gladys' flapping her arms andprancing about, greatly delighted both princesses, and they laughed andclamored for more. 

"Aren't they dears!" exclaimed Marjorie, as she looked at the two prettybabies. "Methinks no ransom is forthcoming. Must we resort to our direand dreadful doom?"

"Aye, aye!" said Gladys. "To the enchanted castle with the fatalvictims. "

So long as the girls used tragic-sounding words they didn't always carewhether they made sense or not. 

"On, on, then!" cried Midget. "On, on! To victory, or defeat!"

Each pushing a carriage, they ran down the long drive, across the widelawn, and paused, flushed and breathless, at a rustic summer-house. 

Into the arbor they pushed the two coaches, and then dropped, laughing, on the seats. 

The babies laughed, too, and both Dotty and Totty seemed to think thatto be a captive princess was a delightful fate. The girls sat still forawhile to rest, but the game went on. 

"Shall it be the donjon keep?"

"Nay, not for these, so young and fair, " answered Gladys. "Let's chainthem with rose garlands to a silken couch. "

"Huh!" said Marjorie, "that's not a dire fate. Let's do something that'smore fun. Oh, Glad, I'll tell you what! Let's exchange these babies!That's what they always do in tragedies. Listen! We'll put Dotty's hoodon Totty, and Totty's cap on Dotty. And change their coats, too!"

"Yes, and veils; oh, Mops! What fun! If we change their coats quicklythey won't catch cold. "

"Cold, pooh! It's as warm as summer. "

It wasn't quite that, but it was a lovely, sunshiny day in earlyOctober, and, after running, it seemed quite warm to the girls. 

Following out their project, they quickly exchanged the babies' wraps. 

By this time both little ones were growing sleepy, and were in a quiet, tractable frame of mind. 

"Their little white dresses are almost alike, anyway, " said Gladys, asshe took off Totty's coat. 

"Oh, well, we wouldn't think of changing their dresses, " said Mopsy;"but let's change their little shoes. I'd like to see Totty in thosecunning ankle-ties. "

"And I'd like to see Dotty in those pretty blue kid shoes. "

"Of course, we'll change them right back, but I just want to see howthey look. "

Soon the transformation was complete. To all outward appearance ofcostume, Dotty was Totty, and Totty was Dotty. Even the veils werechanged, as one was of silk gauze, the other of knitted zephyr. 

Then, not in their own, but in each other's carriage, the reversedprincesses nodded and beamed at their captors. 

"Now, you push that carriage, and I'll push this, " said Marjorie, takinghold of the carriage she had pushed all the time, though now it had theother baby in it. 

"All right, " said Gladys, "let's go round by the garden. "

Slowly now, the girls went round by the large well-kept kitchen garden, and then through the flower gardens back to the front lawn. 

"Why, " said Marjorie, suddenly, "both these children are asleep!"

"Mrs. Harrison said Totty would go to sleep, " said Gladys. "I guess allbabies go to sleep about this time in the morning. It seems too bad towake them up to change their coats back again, but I think we ought totake Totty back, don't you?"

"Yes, I do. Suppose we leave the coats and caps as they are, and thenafterward we can bring back Dotty's things and get Totty's. "

"Here you are!" cried Lisa, coming to meet them at the front door. "You're good little girls to mind the baby for me. I'll take her now, and I thank you much. "

As Lisa spoke, she took hold of the Curtis carriage, which contained theHarrison baby. 

"Ah, she's asleep, bless her heart!" she exclaimed, looking at theclosed eyes, almost hidden by the white veil. "I'm glad she's getting afine nap. Run along now with your own baby. "

Partly confused by Lisa's quick and peremptory dismissal, and partlyimpelled by a sudden mischievous idea, Marjorie smiled a good-bye, andbegan trundling the other carriage toward the gate. 

"Why, Midge!" whispered Gladys, aghast. "We've got the wrong baby! Thisis Dotty Curtis!"

"Keep still!" whispered Marjorie. "I know it. But it's a good joke onthat snippy Lisa. "

"She wasn't snippy. "

"Yes, she was; she said 'Run along now, little girls, ' after we've beenhelping her all the morning. She's going to let the baby stay asleep inthe carriage, and she won't know it till she wakes up. "

"Who won't? The baby?"

"No, Lisa. And then she'll be scared, and it will serve her right. "

"But what about Mrs. Harrison? You don't want to scare her. "

"That's just the thing, " explained Marjorie. "I want to see if she'llknow the difference in the babies. They say mothers can always telltheir own children. Now we'll see. "

"It's a great joke, " said Gladys, giggling. "But suppose they never findit out, and the children live with their wrong mothers all their lives!"

"Don't be silly, " said Marjorie. 

CHAPTER XIII

A FAIR EXCHANGE?

Mrs. Maynard opened the front door just as the children approached withthe baby-carriage. 

"Come along, girlies!" she cried. "Marjorie, wheel the carriage rightinto the hall. "

"The baby's asleep, Mother, " said Midget, as she and Gladys brought thecarriage over the door-sill. 

"Oh, is she? Totty's asleep, Mildred, " she called, in a stage whisper, to Mrs. Harrison, who was upstairs. 

"I thought she would be, " responded that lady. "Just throw back herveil, and leave her as she is. She often takes her nap in her carriage, and there's no use waking her. "

Gently, Mrs. Maynard turned back the veil from the little sleeping face, and, as she had no thought of anything being wrong, she did not noticeany difference in the baby features. 

"Gladys, we'd like to have you stay to luncheon, " she said. "So you andMidge run upstairs and tidy your curls at once. " With demure steps, butwith dancing eyes, the girls went upstairs. 

"I'm afraid it's mischief, " whispered Gladys to Marjorie, as she tiedher hair-ribbon for her. 

"No, it isn't!" declared Midge, stoutly. "It's only a joke, and it can'tdo any harm. Mother didn't know it was a different baby, and I don'tbelieve Mrs. Harrison will know either. "

Trim and tidy once more the two friends went downstairs. 

As they were on the stairs they heard the sound of the telephone bell. 

Mrs. Maynard answered it, and in a moment Gladys realized that her ownmother was talking at the other end of the wire. 

After a short conversation, Mrs. Maynard hung up the receiver, and said:

"Mrs. Fulton says that Mr. Fulton has come home quite unexpectedly andthat they are going for an afternoon's motor ride. She wants both of yougirls to go, but she says you must fly over there at once, as they'reall ready to start. She tried to tell us sooner, but couldn't get aconnection on the telephone. "

"But we haven't had luncheon, " said Marjorie, "and I'm fairly starving. "

"They're taking luncheon with them, " explained Mrs. Maynard. "And youmust go at once, not to keep Mr. Fulton waiting. Of course, you needn'tgo if you don't want to, Midge. "

"Oh, I do! I'm crazy to go! And luncheon in baskets is such fun! Whatshall I wear, Mother?"

"Go just as you are. That frock is quite clean. Put on your hat andcoat, and I'll get a long veil for you. "

Gladys had already run off home, and Marjorie was soon equipped andready to follow. 

As she flew out of the door, she remembered the joke about the babies. 

"Oh, Mother, I've something to tell you!" she cried. 

"Never mind now, " said Mrs. Maynard, hurrying her off. "It will keeptill you get back. And I hate to have you keep the Fultons waiting. They're in haste to start. So kiss me, and run along. "

Even as she spoke, Dick Fulton appeared, saying he had been sent tohurry Marjorie up; so taking Dick's hand, the two ran swiftly down thepath to the gate. Mrs. Maynard watched Marjorie's flying feet, and aftershe was out of sight around the corner, the lady returned to the house. 

With a glance at the sleeping child, she turned to Mrs. Harrison, whowas just coming downstairs. 

"Totty is sleeping sweetly, " she said, "so come at once to luncheon, Mildred. "

"In a moment, Helen. I think I'll take off her cap and coat; she'll betoo warm. "

"You'll waken her if you do. "

"Oh, well, she'll drop right to sleep again; she always does. Andanyway, it's time she had a drink of milk. "

"Very well, Mildred. You take off her wraps, and I'll ask Sarah to warmsome milk for her. "

Mrs. Maynard went to speak to Sarah, and Mrs. Harrison lifted thesleeping baby from the carriage. 

She sat the blinking-eyed child on her knee while she unfastened hercoat. Then she took off the veil and cap, and then, --she stared at thebaby, and the baby stared at her. 

Suddenly Mrs. Harrison gave a scream. 

"Helen, Helen!" she called to her friend, and Mrs. Maynard came runningto her side. 

"What _is_ the matter, Mildred? Is Totty ill?"

By this time the baby too had begun to scream. Always afraid ofstrangers, Miss Dotty Curtis didn't know what to make of the scenes inwhich she found herself, nor of the strange lady who held her. 

"Mildred, dear, what is the matter? You look horror-stricken! And whatails Totty?"

"This isn't my child!" wailed Mrs. Harrison. 

"Totty isn't your child! What _do_ you mean?"

"But this isn't, Totty! It isn't my baby! I don't know who it is. "

"Mildred, you're crazy! Of course this is Totty. These are her blue kidshoes. And this is her coat and cap. "

"I don't care if they are! It isn't Totty at all. Oh, where is my baby?"

Mrs. Harrison was on the verge of hysterics, and Mrs. Maynard wasgenuinely alarmed. 

"Behave yourself, Mildred!" she said, sternly. "Gather yourselftogether. Here, sip this glass of water. "

"I'm perfectly sensible, " said Mrs. Harrison, quieting down a little, asshe noticed her friend's consternation. "But I tell you, Helen, this is_not_ my baby. Doesn't a mother know her own child? Totty's hair is alittle longer, and her eyes are a little larger. I don't know who thisbaby is, but she isn't mine. "

"I believe you're right, " said Mrs. Maynard, looking more closely at thescreaming baby. 

"There, there!" she said, taking the frightened little one in her ownarms. 

"Ma-ma!" cried the baby. 

"Hear her voice!" exclaimed Mrs. Harrison. "That isn't the way my Tottytalks. Oh, Helen, what has happened?"

"I don't know, " said Mrs. Maynard, her face very white. "It doesn't seempossible that any marauder should have slipped into the house and putthis child in Totty's place. Why, it was only about a half-hour ago thatthe girls brought Totty in. Mildred, are you _sure_ this isn't Totty?"

"Am I sure! Yes, I am. Wouldn't you know your own children fromstrangers? Helen, a dreadful crime has been committed. Somehow this babyhas been substituted for mine. Oh, Totty, where _are_ you now?"

"What shall I do, Mildred? Shall I call up Mr. Maynard on the telephone, or shall I ring up the police station?"

"Yes, call the police. It's dreadful, I know, but how else can we findTotty?"

Meantime Sarah appeared with a cup of warm milk. 

The baby stretched out eager little hands, and Mrs. Maynard carefullyheld the cup for her to drink. 

"She's a nice little thing, " observed that lady. "See how prettily shebehaves. "

"Helen, you'll drive me crazy. I don't care how she behaves, she isn'tTotty. Why, that isn't even Totty's little dress. So you see thekidnapper did change her shoes and wraps, but not her frock. "

Mrs. Harrison showed signs of hysterics, and Mrs. Maynard was at herwits' end what to do. 

"I suppose I'd better call the police, " she said. "Here, Mildred, youhold this baby. "

Mrs. Harrison gingerly took the baby that wasn't hers, and looked like amartyr as she held her. 

But comforted by the warm food, the baby pleasantly cuddled up in Mrs. Harrison's arms and went to sleep. 

Mrs. Maynard, greatly puzzled, went to the telephone, but before shetouched it there was a furious peal at the front-door bell. 

The moment the door was opened, in rushed a pretty, but frantic and veryangry, little lady, carrying a child. 

"Where's my baby?" she demanded, as she fairly stamped her foot at Mrs. Maynard. 

"That's my child!" she went on, turning to Mrs. Harrison. "What are youdoing with her?"

"I don't want her!" cried Mrs. Harrison. "But what are _you_ doing with_my_ baby?"

Totty, in the visitor's arms, held out her hands to her mother, andgurgled with glee. 

"Ma-ma!" said the other baby, waking up at all this commotion andholding out her hands also. 

The exchange was made in a moment, and, still unpacified, Mrs. Harrisonand Mrs. Curtis glared at each other. 

Mrs. Maynard struggled to suppress her laughter, for the scene was afunny one; but she knew the two ladies were thoroughly horrified at themystery, and mirth would be quite out of place. 

"Let me introduce you, " she said. "Mrs. Curtis, this is my dear friend, Mrs. Harrison. Your little ones are the same age, and look very muchalike. "

"Not a bit alike, " said both mothers, at once. 

"I confess, " went on Mrs. Maynard, "that I can't understand it at all, but you certainly each have your own babies now; so, my dear Mrs. Curtis, won't you tell me what you know about this very strange affair?"

Mrs. Curtis had recovered her equilibrium, and, as she sat comfortablyholding Dotty, she smiled, with a little embarrassment. 

"Dear Mrs. Maynard, " she said, "I'm afraid I understand it all betterthan you do; but I'm also afraid, if I explain it to you, you will, --itwill make----"

Suddenly Mrs. Maynard saw a gleam of light. 

"Marjorie!" she exclaimed. 

"Yes, " said Mrs. Curtis; "I think it was due to Miss Mischief. When Ireturned home from an errand, Lisa said that your Marjorie and GladysFulton had had Dotty out in her carriage, and had also another baby whowas visiting you. The girls had left Dotty--or rather, Lisa supposed itwas Dotty--asleep in her coach, and Nurse let her stay there, asleep, until my return. Then the child wakened--and it wasn't Dotty at all! Thebaby had on Dot's slippers, cap, coat, and veil, but the rest of herclothes I had never seen before. I felt sure there had been foul play ofsome sort, but Lisa was sure those girls had exchanged the babies'clothes on purpose. I hoped Lisa was right, but I feared she wasn't, soI picked up the baby and ran over here to see. "

Mrs. Maynard was both grieved and chagrined. 

"How could Marjorie do such a thing!" she exclaimed. 

"Oh, don't be too hard on her, Mrs. Maynard, " said Mrs. Curtis. "It'sall right, now, and you know Marjorie and Gladys are a mischievouspair. "

"But this is inexcusable, " went on Mrs. Maynard. "Mrs. Harrison nearlywent frantic, and you were certainly greatly alarmed. "

Mrs. Curtis smiled pleasantly. "I was, " she admitted, "but it was onlyfor a few moments. I was mystified rather than alarmed, for Lisa saidthe carriage had not been out of her sight a moment, except when thegirls had it. "

Mrs. Curtis took her leave, and, carrying with her her own baby, wentaway home. 

Mrs. Maynard made sincere apologies to her friend for naughty Marjorie'smischief. 

"Never mind, Helen, " said Mrs. Harrison. "I can see now it was only achildish prank, and doubtless Marjorie and Gladys expected a good laughover it; then they ran off unexpectedly and forgot all about thebabies. "

Mrs. Maynard remembered then that Midget had said at the last momentthat she had something to tell her, but that she had hurried the childoff. 

"Still, " she thought to herself, "that was no excuse for Midge. Sheshould have told me. "

After a refreshing luncheon, Mrs. Harrison was able to view the mattermore calmly. 

"Don't punish Marjorie for this, Helen, " she said. "Children will bechildren, and I daresay those girls thought it would be a fine joke onme. "

"I certainly shall punish her, Mildred. She is altogether toothoughtless, and too careless of other people's feelings. She never doeswilful or malicious wrong, but she tumbles into mischief thoughtlessly. She will be honestly grieved when she learns how frightened and upsetyou were, and she'll never do such a thing again. But, the trouble isshe'll do some other thing that will be equally naughty, but somethingthat no one can foresee or warn her against. "

"Well, just for my sake, Helen, don't punish her this time; at least, not much. I really oughtn't to have gone to pieces so; I ought to haverealized that it could all be easily explained. "

But Mrs. Maynard would not promise to condone Midget's fault entirely, and argued that she really ought to be punished for what turned out tobe a troublesome affair. 

Mrs. Harrison went home about four o'clock, and it was five beforeMarjorie returned. 

Her mother met her at the door. 

"Did you have a pleasant time, Marjorie?" she said. 

"Oh, yes, Mother; we had a lovely time. We went clear to Ridge Park. Oh, I _do_ love to ride in an automobile. "

"Go and take off your things, my child, and then come to me in my room. "

"Yes, Mother, " said Marjorie, and she danced away to take off her hat. 

"Here I am, Mother, " she announced, a little later. "Now shall I tellyou all about my afternoon?"

"Not quite yet, dear. I'll tell you all about my afternoon first. Mrs. Harrison had a very unhappy time, and of course that made me unhappyalso. "

"Why, Mother, what was the trouble about?"

Mrs. Maynard looked into the clear, honest eyes of her daughter, andsighed as she realized that Marjorie had no thought of what had made thetrouble. 

"Why did you put Dotty Curtis' cloak and hat on Totty?"

Then the recollection came back to Marjorie. 

"Oh, Mother!" she cried, as she burst into a ringing peal of laughter. "Wasn't it a funny joke! Did Mrs. Harrison laugh? Did she know her ownbaby?"

"Marjorie, I'm ashamed of you. No, Mrs. Harrison did not laugh. Ofcourse she knew that the child you left in the carriage was not herlittle Totty, and as she didn't know what had happened, she had a verybad scare, and her nerves were completely unstrung. "

"But why, Mother?" said Marjorie, looking puzzled. "I thought shewouldn't know the difference. But if she did know right away it wasn'tTotty, why didn't she go over to Mrs. Curtis' and change them backagain?"

"She didn't know Totty was at Mrs. Curtis'. Neither did I. We neverdreamed that you couldn't be trusted to take a baby out to ride andbring her home safely. She thought some dreadful thing had happened toher child. "

"Oh, Mother, did she? I'm so sorry. I never meant to tease her that way. I only thought it would be a funny joke to see her think Dotty wasTotty. "

"But, my little girl, you ought to have realized that it was a cruel andeven a dangerous joke. You cannot carelessly dispose of little humanbeings as if they were dolls, or other inanimate things. "

"I never thought of that, Mother. And, anyway, I started to tell youabout it, just as I went away, and you told me to run along, and tellyou what I had to tell after I came home. "

"I thought you'd say that; but of course I thought you meant you wantedto tell me some trifling incident, or something of little importance. Can't you understand that what you did was not a trifle, but a gravepiece of misbehavior?"

"Mischief, Mother?"

Mrs. Maynard bit her lip to keep from smiling at Marjorie's innocentrequest for information. 

"It was mischief, I suppose. But it was more than that. It was realwrong-doing. When little girls are trusted to do anything, they ought tobe very careful to do it earnestly and thoroughly, exactly as it ismeant to be done. If you had stopped to think, would you have thoughteither of those mothers _wanted_ you to exchange their babies?"

Marjorie pondered. 

"No, " she said, at last; "but, truly, if I had thought ever so hard Iwouldn't have thought they'd mind it so much. Can't they take a joke, Mother?"

"Marjorie, dear, you have a fun-loving disposition, but if it is to makeyou joy and not sorrow all your life, you must learn what constitutes adesirable 'joke. ' To begin with, practical jokes are rarely, if ever, desirable. "

"What is a practical joke?"

"It's a little difficult to explain, my dear; but it's usually awell-laid plan to make somebody feel foolish or angry, or appearridiculous. I think you hoped Mrs. Harrison would appear ridiculous bypetting another child while thinking it was her own. And you meant tostand by and laugh at her. "

This was putting it rather plainly, but Marjorie could not deny thetruth of her mother's statement. 

"And so, " went on Mrs. Maynard, "that was a very wrong intent, especially from a little girl to a grown person. Practical jokes amongyour playmates are bad enough, but this was far worse. "

"I understand, Mother, now that you've explained it; but, truly, Ididn't mean to do anything so awfully dreadful. How are you going topunish me?"

"Mrs. Harrison was very forgiving, and begged me not to punish youseverely. But I think you deserve a pretty hard penance; don't you?"

"Why, the way you tell me about it, I think I do. But the way I meantit, seems so different. "

"Well, I've thought it over, and I've decided on this. You dislike tosew; don't you?"

"Yes, I do!" said Marjorie, emphatically. 

"I know you do. But I think you ought to learn to sew, and, moreover, Ithink this would be an appropriate thing to do. I want you to make alittle dress for Totty. I will do the more difficult parts, such asputting it together, but you must run the tucks, and hem it, andoverhand the seams. And it must be done very neatly, as all babies'dresses should be dainty and fine. You may work half an hour on it everyday, and, when it is finished, it will be a pretty little gift for Mrs. Harrison, and it will also teach you something of an old-fashioned butuseful art. "

Marjorie drew a deep sigh. "All right, Mother. I'll try to do it nicely;but oh, how I hate a thimble! I never again will mix up people'sbabies. But I didn't think it was such an awful, dreadful thing to do. "

"You're a strange child, Midget, " said her mother, looking at herthoughtfully. "I never know what you're going to do next. "

"I never know myself, " said Marjorie, cheerfully, "but you can alwayspunish me, you know. "

"But I don't want to. I want you to behave so you won't needpunishment. "

"I'll try real hard, " said Midge, as she kissed her mother, again andagain. 

CHAPTER XIV

A NOBLE SOCIETY

The Jinks Club was having its weekly meeting, and all of the memberswere present. 

"I think, " the President was saying, "that we ought to do somethingthat's of some use. It's all very well to cut up jinks to have fun, andwe did have a lot of fun on the straw ride last week; but I mean weought to do some real good in the world. "

"But how could we, King?" said Marjorie, looking at her brother in awe. 

"There are lots of ways!" declared King. "We might do somethingpublic-spirited or charitable. "

"I think so, too, " said Dick Fulton. "My father was talking last nightabout the selfishness of citizens. "

"Goodness, Dick, " said his sister, "we're not citizens!"

"Yes, we are, Gladys. Why aren't we? Everybody born in America is acitizen, whether old or young. "

"I never dreamed I was a citizen, " said Gladys, giggling. "Did you, Kit?"

"No, " said Kitty; "but I'd just as lieve be. Wouldn't you, Dorothy?"

"Yes, indeed. It's nice to be citizens. Sort of patriotic, you know. "

"Well, " said Midget, "if we're citizens, let's do citizens' work. Whatdo they do, King?"

"Oh, they vote, and----"

"But we can't vote. Of course we girls never can, but you boys can't foryears yet. Don't be silly. "

"Well, there are other things besides voting, " said Dick. "Some citizenshave big meetings and make speeches. "

"Now _you're_ silly, " said Kingdon. "We can't make speeches any morethan we can vote. But there must be things that young folks can do. "

"We could have a fair and make money for the heathen, " volunteeredGladys. 

"That's too much like work, " said King. "Besides, we're all going to bein the Bazaar in December, and we don't want to copy that! And, anyway, I mean something more--more political than that. "

"I don't know anything about politics, " declared Marjorie, "and youdon't, either!"

"I do, too. Father told me all about the different parties and platformsand everything. "

"Let's have a platform, " said Kitty. "You boys can build it. "

King laughed at this, but, as the others had only a hazy idea of what apolitical platform was, Kitty's suggestion was not heeded. 

"I'll tell you, " said Dick. "When Father was talking last night, he saidif our citizens were public-spirited, they'd form a Village ImprovementSociety, and fix up the streets and beautify the park and the common, and keep their lawns in better order. "

"Now you're talking!" cried King. "That's the sort of thing I mean. Andwe children could be a little Village Improvement Society ourselves. Ofcourse we couldn't do much, but we could make a start, and then grown-uppeople might take the notion and do it themselves. "

"I think it would be lovely, " said Marjorie. "We could plant flowers inthe middle of the common, and we'd all water them and weed them, andkeep them in lovely order. "

"We couldn't plant flowers till next spring, " said Gladys. "October's notime to plant flowers. "

"It's not a very good time for such work, anyway, " said Dick, "for mostof the improvement is planting things, and mowing grass, and like that. But there are other things, 'cause Father said that such a society couldmake all the people who live here keep their sidewalks clean and nothave any ashes or rubbish anywhere about. "

"I think it's great, " said King. "I move we go right bang! into it, andthat we first change the name of the Jinks Club to the VillageImprovement Society. Then let's keep just the same officers, andeverything, and go right ahead and improve. "

"Yes, " said Marjorie, "and then whenever we want to turn back again tothe Jinks Club, why, we can. "

"Oh, we won't want to turn back, " said King, confidently; "the other'llbe more fun. "

"All right, " said Dick. "I'm secretary, so I'll make out a list of whatwe can do. How much money is there in the treasury, Midget?"

"Sixty cents, " said Marjorie, promptly. 

"Huh! Just what we paid in to-day. "

"Yes, you know we spent last week's money going on a trolley ride. "

"So we did. Well, we'll have to have more cash, if we're going toimprove this town much. "

"Then I can't belong, " said Marjorie, decidedly. "I've got to begin nowto save money for Christmas. I'd rather have it for that than plantflower beds. "

"A nice citizen you are!" growled King. "But, " he added, "I haven't anyextra money, either. Christmas is coming, and that's a fact!"

"Father'll give us Christmas money, " said Kitty. 

"Yes; but he likes to have us save some of our allowance, too. He saysit makes better gifts. "

"Well, " said Dick, "let's do things that don't cost money, then. Fathersaid the streets and lanes ought to be kept in better order. Let's goaround and pick up the old cans and things. "

"No, thank you, " said Marjorie, turning up her small nose. "I'm noragpicker. "

"I wouldn't do that, either, " said Gladys; "that is, unless I had ahorse and cart. A pony-cart, I mean; not a dump-cart. But, Dick, I heardFather talking last night, too; and he said a society like that wouldsend out letters to the citizens, asking them to keep their yards inbetter order. "

"That's the ticket, Gladys!" cried Kingdon, admiringly. "You've struckit now. Of course that's the way to accomplish what we are after, in adignified manner. Let's write a lot of those letters, and then when thepeople fix their places all up, we'll say that we started the movement. "

"All right, " said Dick, "I think that's just what Father meant. But hesaid 'a circular letter. ' That means have it printed. "

"Oh, well, we can't afford to have it printed. Why, we can't scrape uppostage for very many letters. Sixty cents; that would mail thirtyletters. "

"We can't write more than that, " said Marjorie. "That would be fiveapiece for all of us. And I don't know as Kit and Dorothy write wellenough, anyway. "

"Dorothy does, " said Kitty, generously. "But I write like hen's tracks. "

"Well, you can write those that don't matter so much, " said Midge, kindly. "I'll tell you, Kitty, you can write the one to Father. "

"Pooh, Father doesn't need any. Our place is always in order. "

"So is ours!" cried Dick. "And ours!" piped up Dorothy. 

"But don't the citizens all have to have letters?" asked Gladys. "If youjust pick out the ones who don't keep their lawns nice, they'll be mad. "

"No, they won't, " said Dick; "or, if they are, why, let 'em _be_ mad. "

"I say so, too, " agreed King. "If we write to the ones that need writingto, we'll have all we can do. Make out a list of 'em, Dick. "

"Put down Mr. Bolton first, " said Gladys. "He hasn't mowed his grass allsummer. Father says his place is a disgrace to the comminity. "

"Community, child, " corrected her brother. "But old Bolton's place _is_awful. So is Crane's. "

"Let's write their letters now, and see how they sound, " suggested King, who was always in favor of quick action. 

The club was meeting in the Maynards' big playroom, so paper and pencilswere handy. 

"It ought to be in ink, I s'pose, " said King, "but I hardly ever use it, it spills about so. Let's take pencil this time. "

After many suggestions and corrections on the part of each of theinterested members the following letter was achieved:

 "MR. BOLTON, "_Dear Sir_: We wish kindly to ask you to keep your place in better order. We are trying to improve our fair city, and how can we do it when places like yours are a disgrace to the community? We trust you will be nice about this, and not get mad, for we mean well, and hope you are enjoying the same blessing. "

"That's all right, " said Marjorie, as Dick read it aloud. "Now, what dowe sign it?"

"Just sign it 'The Village Improvement Society, ' that's all, " saidGladys. 

"Wait a minute, " said King. "In all letters of this sort they alwaysabbreviate some words; it looks more business-like. "

"Mother hates abbreviations, " said Marjorie; "she won't let me say'phone for telephone, or auto for motor-car. "

"That's different, " said King. "She means in polite society; talking, you know, or writing notes to your friends. "

"Isn't a Village Improvement Society a polite society?" asked Kitty. 

"Yes, of course, sister. But I don't mean that. I mean, in a businessletter like this they always abbreviate some words. "

"Well, abbreviate 'community, ' that's the longest word, " suggested Dick. 

"No, that isn't the right kind of a word to abbreviate. It ought to besomething like acc't for account. "

"Oh, that kind? Well, perhaps we can use that word in some other letter. But can't we do the abbreviating in the signature? That's pretty long. "

"So we can, " said King. "Let's sign it, 'The Village Imp. Society. '"

This was adopted, as it didn't occur to any of the children that theabbreviated word might convey an unintended meaning. 

Mr. Crane was attended to next, and, as they warmed to their subject, his letter was a little more peremptory. It ran:

 "MR. CRANE, "_Dear Sir_: We're improving our village, and, unless you fix up your place pretty quick, we will call and argue with you. On no acc't let it go another week looking as disreputibil as it now does. We mean well, if you do; but if you don't, --beware!

 "THE VILLAGE IMP. SOCIETY. "

"That's fine!" exclaimed Gladys, as this effusion was read out. "Now, let's do two more, and then we can each take one for a copy, and make alot of them, just put different names at the top, you know. "

"Let's make a more gentle one, " said Marjorie. "Those are all right formen, but there's old Mrs. Hill, she ought to be told pleasantly to fixup her garden and keep her pigs and chickens shut up. We almost ranover a lot of them the other day. "

So a gentle petition was framed:

 "DEAR MRS. HILL:

 "Won't you please be so kind as to straighten out your garden a little? We'd like to see it look neat like Mr. Fulton's, or Mr. Maynard's, or Mr. Adams'. Don't go to too much trouble in this matter, but just kill or shut up your pigs and chickens, and we will all help you if need be. 

 "Lovingly yours, "THE VILLAGE IMP. SOCIETY. "

"That's sweet, " said Marjorie; "I like that 'Lovingly yours'; it showswe have no hard feelings. "

One more was framed, with a special intent toward the shopkeepers:

 "MR. GREEN:

 "We wish to goodness you'd keep your goods in better order. In front of your store, on sidewalk and gutter, are old fruits, potatoes, and sundry other things too old to be quite nice. So spruce things up, and you will be surprised at the result. 

 "Yours in good fellowship, "THE VILLAGE IMP. SOCIETY. "

"That's a good business one, " said Dick. "Sort of 'man to man, ' youknow. "

"I don't like it as well as some of the others, " said Marjorie. "Youcopy that, Dick, and I'll copy the 'lovingly' one. "

Each took a model, and all set to work, except Kitty and Dorothy, whowere exempt, as their penmanship was not very legible. 

"I'm tired, " announced Dick, after an hour's work. "Let's stop where weare. "

"All right, " said King. "We've enough for the first week, I think. Ifthese work pretty good, we'll do more next Saturday. "

They had sixteen letters altogether, addressed to the best and worstcitizens of Rockwell, and in high glee they started to the post-officeto buy their stamps. 

Mrs. Maynard willingly gave permission for them to go the shortdistance to the post-office, and watched the six well-behaved childrenas they walked off, two by two. 

After the stamps were bought, and the letters posted, they found theystill had enough in the treasury for soda water all round, lacking twocents. King generously supplied the deficit, and the six trooped intothe drug store, and each selected a favorite flavor. 

The club meeting broke up after that, and the children went to theirhomes, feeling that they had greatly gained in importance since morning. And indeed they had. 

That same evening many of the Rockwell people strolled down to thepost-office for their mail. 

In the small town there were no carriers, and the short trip to thepost-office was deemed a pleasure by most. 

When Mr. Maynard arrived he was surprised to find men gathered intosmall groups, talking in loud and almost angry voices. 

The pretty little stone building was not large enough to hold them all, and knots of people were on the steps and on the small grass plot infront. 

"It's outrageous!" one man was saying. "I never heard of such impudencein a civilized town!"

"Here comes Mr. Maynard now, " said another, "let's ask him. "

Mr. Maynard smiled pleasantly as the belligerent ones approached him. 

They were men whom he knew by name, but they were not of his own socialcircle. 

"Look here, " said John Kellogg, "I've just got this 'ere note, and somekid yonder says it's the handwritin' of your son, and I want ter know efthat's so!"

"It certainly looks like my son's writing, " said Mr. Maynard, stillsmiling pleasantly, though his heart sank as he wondered what thosechildren had been up to now. 

CHAPTER XV

DISTURBED CITIZENS

"And I've got one that my boy says is in Dick Fulton's writin'!"declared another angry citizen. 

"Here comes Dick's father now, " said Mr. Maynard, as he advanced a stepto meet Mr. Fulton. "They tell me our sons have been writingmiscellaneous letters, " he said to Mr. Fulton, and, though there was atwinkle in his eye, Mr. Fulton saw at once that there was some seriousmatter in hand. 

"Not only your sons, but your girls, too, " growled another man. "My kidsays this is your Marjorie's fist. "

"Well, well, what are the letters all about?" asked Mr. Fulton, who didnot like the attitude of the complainants. 

"Read 'em, and see!" was the quick response, and half a dozen letterswere thrust toward the two gentlemen. 

Mr. Fulton adjusted his glasses, and both he and Mr. Maynard quicklyscanned the notes that were only too surely the work of their ownchildren. 

"The signature is misleading, " said Mr. Fulton, who was inwardly shakingwith laughter at the absurd epistles, but who preserved a seriouscountenance; "but I feel sure it means 'The Village ImprovementSociety. ' I have often thought such a society would be a good thing forour town, but I didn't know one had been started. "

"But who _is_ the society? A lot of youngsters?" demanded John Kellogg. 

"Ahem! These documents would lead one to think so, wouldn't they?" saidMr. Fulton, suavely. 

But the offended men were not to be so easily placated. 

"See here, " said one of them, assuming a threatening tone, "these 'ereletters is insults; that's what I call 'em!"

"And I!" "Me, too!" said several others. 

"And as they is insults, " went on the first speaker, "we wantssatisfaction; that's what we wants!"

"Yes, yes!" "We do!" chorused the crowd. 

Mr. Fulton and Mr. Maynard were decidedly nonplussed. It was difficultto take the matter seriously, and yet, as these men were so incensed, itmight make an unpleasant publicity for the two families, unless theyplacated the angry recipients of those foolish letters. 

Mr. Maynard was a quick thinker, and a man of more even disposition andaffable demeanor than Mr. Fulton. So Mr. Maynard, with a nod at hisfriend, jumped up on a chair and began to address the crowd, as if hewere on a public platform. 

"My friends and fellow-townsmen, " he said: "in the first place, Mr. Fulton and I want to admit that these letters which you have receivedare without doubt the work of our own children. They were writtenentirely without our knowledge or consent, and they represent a childishendeavor to do well, but they do not show experience, or familiaritywith grown people's ways of dealing with these matters. We, therefore, apologize to you for the offence our children have caused you, andtrust that, as most of you have children of your own, you willappreciate the facts of the case, and forgive the well-meaning, butill-doing, little scamps. "

Mr. Maynard's pleasant voice and genial smile went far to establishgood-feeling, and many voices murmured, "Aw, that's all right, " or, "Little scalawags, ain't they?"

"And now, " Mr. Maynard went on, "since we are gathered here, I wouldlike to make a suggestion that may lead to a good work. Several of ourprominent business men have thought that a Village Improvement Societycould do a great and good work in our town. I, myself, have notsufficient leisure to take this matter in charge, but I wish that acommittee of our citizens might be appointed to consider ways and means, with a view to organizing a society in the near future. Should this bedone, I stand ready to contribute one thousand dollars to the generalfund of the society, and I've no doubt more will be subscribed bywilling hearts. "

Mr. Maynard stepped down from the chair, and Mr. Fulton immediatelymounted it. 

"I, too, will gladly subscribe the same amount as Mr. Maynard, " he said;"this project has for some time been in my mind, and I am pretty surethat it was because of overhearing some of my conversations on thesubject that my young people took it up, and earnestly, if in a mistakenmanner, endeavored to start such a society. "

The sentiment of the meeting had entirely changed. The men who had beenmost angry at their letters were now enthusiastic in their desire forthe immediate formation of the society. 

"Land sakes!" said old Mr. Bolton, "them children didn't mean nothin'wrong. They jest didn't know no better. "

"That's so, " said John Kellogg. "Like's not, some of our kids might 'a'done a heap worse. "

After the election of a chairman for the provisional committee, and afew more preliminary moves in the matter, Mr. Maynard and Mr. Fultonwent away, leaving it all in the hands of their fellow-townsmen. 

"You did good work, " said Mr. Fulton, appreciatively. "I confess I wasafraid of an unpleasant turn of affairs. But you won their hearts byyour tact and genial manner. "

"That's the best way to manage that sort of an uprising, " returned Mr. Maynard. "Of course we are, in a way, responsible for our children'sdeeds, and there's a possibility that some of those letters could maketrouble for us. But I think it's all right now. The next thing is tochoke off the children before they go any further. What _do_ you supposepossessed them to cut up such a trick?"

"What possesses them to get into one sort of mischief after another, asfast as they can go?"

"Well, this isn't really mischief, is it? They meant well, you know. ButI'll reserve judgment until after I talk with my young hopefuls. "

The two men separated at the corner, and Mr. Maynard went directly tohis own home. 

He found Mrs. Maynard and the three older children in the living-room, variously engaged with books or games. 

"Well, " he said, as he entered the room. "I'd like an immediateinterview with The Village Imps. "

Each of the three gave a start of surprise. 

"What do you mean, Father?" cried Marjorie. 

"Why, if you belong to an Imp Society you must be Imps; aren't you?"

"Who told you about it?" asked Kitty, disappointedly. "It was to be asecret, until all the town was stirred up. "

"The town is pretty well stirred up now, my girl. But I don't wantreports of my children's doings from other people. Tell me all about it, yourselves. "

"We will, Father, " said Marjorie, evidently glad of the chance. "Youtell, King; you're president. "

Nothing loath, King began the tale. He gave a full account of theirdesire to do something that would be a public benefit of some sort. Hetold of Dick's suggestion, founded upon Mr. Fulton's remarks about aVillage Improvement Society. He explained that they wrote lettersbecause they hadn't money enough for any more expensive proceeding, andhe wound up by proudly stating that they had mailed sixteen lettersalready, and hoped to send more the following week. 

So earnest was the boy in his description of the work, and so honest hispride in their efforts so far, that Mr. Maynard deeply regretted thenecessity of changing his view of the matter. 

"Kingdon, " he said, "you're fourteen years old, and I think you're oldenough to know that you ought not to engage in such important affairswithout getting the advice of older people. "

"Oh, Father!" cried Marjorie. "Was this wrong, too? Is _everything_mischief? Can't we do anything at all without we have to be punished forit? We thought this was truly a good work, and we thought we were doingour duty!"

Like a little whirlwind, Marjorie flew across the room, and threwherself, sobbing, into her father's arms. 

"My dear child, " he said, kissing her hot little brow, "wait a momenttill I explain. We want to talk over this matter, and get each other'sideas about it. "

"But you're going to say it was wrong, --I know you are! And I was tryingso hard _not_ to do naughty things. Oh, Father, how can I tell what Ican do, and what I can't?"

"There, there, Midget, now stop crying. You're not going to be punished;you don't deserve to be. What you did was not wrong in itself, --at leastit would not have been for older people. But you children are ignorantof the ways of the grown-up world, and so you ought not to have takenthe responsibility of dictating to or advising grown people. That wasthe wrong part. "

"But we meant it for their good, sir, more than for our own, " said King, by way of justification. 

"That's just it, Kingdon, my boy. You're too young yet to know what _is_for the good of grown men and women who are old enough to be yourparents and grandparents. You wouldn't think of dictating to your motheror myself 'for our good, ' would you? And all grown people ought to beequally free from your unasked advice. "

"But, Father, " insisted King, "if you kept this place looking like arubbish-heap, wouldn't I have a right to ask you not to?"

"You'd have only the right of our relationship. A child has manyprivileges with his parents that he hasn't with any one else in theworld. But to come right down to the facts: the letters that you wrotewere ill-advised, arrogant, and impertinent. "

Kitty looked frankly bewildered at these big Words, Marjorie buried herface on her father's shoulder in a renewed burst of tears, while Kingdonflushed a deep red all over his honest, boyish face. 

"I'm sorry, Father, " he said; "we didn't mean them to be, and we didn'tthink they were. We thought they were straightforward andbusiness-like. "

"That shows your ignorance, my son. Until you have been in business, youcannot really know what grown men and women consider business-like. Ican tell you John Kellogg and Tom Bolton didn't consider themmasterpieces of business-like literature. "

"How do you know?" said Marjorie, lifting her wet face from itshiding-place. 

"I saw them, dearie; both the men and the letters, at the post-officeto-night. There were many others, --a dozen or more, --and they were, oneand all, extremely angry at the letters they had received. Mr. Fultonand I were both there, and, when we were told that the letters were thework of our children, we could scarcely believe it. "

"And we thought you'd be so proud of us, " said Kitty, in such a dejectedvoice that Mrs. Maynard caught up the little girl and held her in herarms. 

Of course, this was the first Mrs. Maynard had heard of the wholeaffair, but, as Mr. Maynard was conducting the discussion, she saidlittle. 

"What ought we to have done, Father?" said King, who was beginning tosee that they had done wrong. 

"When you first thought of the plan, my son, you should have realizedthat it concerned grown people entirely; and that, therefore, before youchildren undertook its responsibilities you should confer with yourmother or me. Surely you see that point?"

"Yes, sir, " said the boy. 

"When your plans include only children, and are not disobedience torules either actual and implied, then you are usually free to do prettymuch as you like. "

"But we thought this would do the town good. "

"That was a worthy sentiment, and a true one, too. But the matter of atown improvement is not a matter for children to attend to, _unless_they are working under the direction of older people. Had I advised youto write these letters, which, of course, I never should have done, foryou are not the proper ones to write them, but had I done so, I wouldhave shown you how to word them that they might not offend. Inexperienced letter-writers cannot expect to write a sort of letterwhich requires special delicacy, tact, and graciousness. "

"Father, " said Marjorie, solemnly, "I'm never going to do anythingagain, but go to school and eat my meals and go to bed. Anything else Iever do is wrong. "

"Now, Mopsy Midget, don't talk nonsense. You're twelve years old. You'vea lot to learn before you're a grown-up, and most of it must be learnedby experience. If you never do anything, you'll never get anyexperience, and at twenty you'll only know as much as you did at twelve!How would you like that?"

"Not much, " said Marjorie, whose spirits rose as her father adopted alighter tone. 

"Then just go on and have your experiences. Cut up jinks and have allthe fun you can; but try to learn as you go along to discriminatebetween the things you ought to do and the things you oughtn't. Youwon't always guess right, but if you keep on living you can always guessagain. "

"What did those men say?" asked King, who was brooding over the scene inthe post-office. 

"Oh! they were pretty mad at first, and I think they were quite ready tocome after you children with tomahawks and war-whoops. But Mr. Fultonand I patted them fondly on the shoulder, and told them you wereharmless lunatics and they mustn't mind you. "

"We're not crazy, Father, " said Kitty, who was inclined to be literal. 

"No, Kitsie, you're not; and I don't want you to drive me crazy, either. You're three of the most delightful children I ever met, and whenever Ican pull you out of your scrapes I'm only too glad to do so. I may aswell tell you at once that Mr. Fulton and I fixed up this Imp Societymatter very satisfactorily; and if you don't start in to lay a newasphalt road, or build a cathedral, I think I can keep up with you. "

"How did you fix it, Father?" asked Marjorie, brightening with renewedinterest, as she learned that the trouble was over. 

"Oh! I told the gentlemen who were most interested that if they didn'tlike the way my children improved this village that they'd better do theimproving themselves. And they said they would. "

"Really, Father?"

"Really, King. So now you're all well out of it, and I want you to stayout. Unless they ask for your assistance, later on; and I doubt ifthey'll do that, for between you and me they don't seem to approve ofyour methods. "

"I think it was dreadful for the children to write those letters, " saidMrs. Maynard. "And I don't think, Ed, that you've quite explained tothem how very wrong it was. "

"Perhaps not, " said Mr. Maynard, "but can't we leave that part of thesubject till some other time? For my part, I'm quite exhausted scoldingthese young reprobates, and I'd like a change to smiles instead oftears. And somehow I have a growing conviction that they'll never do itagain. Will you, chickabiddies?"

"No, sir!" came in a hearty chorus. 

"Of course they won't, " said Mrs. Maynard, laughing. "It will be someother ridiculous freak. But I'll be glad to drop the subject for thepresent, too, and have a pleasant half-hour before it's bedtime forbabes. "

"And aren't we to be punished?" asked Marjorie, in surprise. 

"Not exactly punished, " said her father, smiling at her. "I think Ishall give you a severe scolding every night for a week, and then see ifyou're not little paragons of perfection, every one of you. "

"I'm not afraid of your scolding, " said Marjorie, contentedly cuddlingclose to her father; "but I thought maybe--perhaps--you'd want us toapologize to those people who were so angry. "

"I did that for you, dearie. What's the use of having a father if hecan't get you out of a scrape now and then? And now let's roast somechestnuts, and pop some corn, and have all sorts of fun. "

CHAPTER XVI

ROSY POSY'S CHOICE

It was time to decide the momentous question of where the next Ourdayshould be spent. 

Already it was Wednesday, and on Saturday the Maynards would have theirNovember Ourday. It was Rosy Posy's turn to choose, but as herselections were usually either vague or impossible, the other childrenwere not backward in offering suggestions to help the little one out. 

This time, however, Rosamond was quite positive in her opinion. 

When her father asked her where she wanted to go for a day's outing, sheat once responded, "To Bongzoo. "

"To Bongzoo!" exclaimed Mr. Maynard. "Where in the world is that? Orwhat is it? It sounds as though it might be either French or Choctaw. "

"Ess, " said Rosy Posy, "we'll all go to Bongzoo; me an' muvver, an' allof us, an' Daddy, too. "

"And how do we get there, Baby? Walk, ride, or swim?"

"I don' know, " said Rosy Posy. "But Marjorie knows. She told me to say'Go to Bongzoo, ' so I said it. "

Then the laugh was on Marjorie. 

"Oho!" said Mr. Maynard. "So Mopsy's been electioneering all right. Outwith it, Midge. What does Baby mean by Bongzoo?"

"She means the Bronx Zoo, " said Marjorie. "I thought we'd all like tosee the animals there. But it isn't my turn to choose, so I told RosyPosy to choose that. "

"An' I do!" declared the child, stoutly. "I choose Bongzoo, an' I wantsto go there. "

"I think it's a fine place to go, " said Mr. Maynard. "What made youthink of it, Midge?"

"One of the girls at school went there some time ago, and she told usall about it; and, oh, Father, it's beautiful! All lions and tigers andwaterlilies and Florida trees!"

"I doubt if the waterlilies are in bloom just now, but I'm sure thetigers are flourishing. Well, I'm for the Zoo. Will you go, Mother?"

"Yes, indeed, " said Mrs. Maynard; "I don't want to miss such afine-sounding Ourday as that. "

"I think it's great!" declared King. "Bob Carson says the birds arewonderful, and the alligators walk around on the grass. "

"Oh!" cried Kitty, "then I don't want to go. I wouldn't meet analligator for anything!"

"They have their own grass plat, Kitsie, " said her father. "They don'ttrespass on the grass reserved for visitors. "

So the Ourday was unanimously settled, and, as that sort of a tripinvolved little preparation, there was nothing to do but hope forpleasant weather. 

"Though if it rains, " said Marjorie, comfortably, "Father will fix upsomething nice for us in the house. "

But Saturday turned out to be a lovely day, and the Maynard family tookan early train for New York City, in order to make their stay at the Zooas long as possible. 

They did not invite any other guests, as Mr. And Mrs. Maynard thoughttheir own four children responsibility enough. 

The young people greatly enjoyed the journey in the train, and acrossthe ferry, and then Rosy Posy asked that they might go in what shecalled the "Cellarway. " She meant the Subway, and, as this was a quickway to reach Bronx Park, Mr. Maynard consented. The children were ofenthusiastic natures, and inclined to be conversational, but the noiseof the Subway trains drowned their voices, and, for once, they wereobliged to be silent. But when they reached their destination, andentered the beautiful park, their tongues were loosed again, and theykept up a running fire of chatter. 

Rosy Posy trotted along by her mother's side, King and Kitty walkedtogether, and Midget pretended to walk by her father's side, but reallydanced back and forth from one to another. They visited the BotanicalPark first, and as the early November day was clear and cold, they werenot sorry to step into the warm greenhouses. 

Marjorie specially liked the great jungles of Florida and othersouthern vegetation. The banyan trees and giant palms reached up to thehigh ceiling, and the luxuriant foliage and brilliant blossoms madenorthern plants seem dwarfed beside them. It was an instructiveexperience, as well as an entertaining one, for Mr. Maynard called thechildren's attention to the printed names on the plants, and, thoughthey could not remember all of them, they learned a great many. 

"It's fun to study botany this way, " said Marjorie, as her father showedher the strange Mexican cacti, and told her about the deserts where theygrow. 

King nearly scared Kitty out of her wits by pretending there was a greatsnake writhing among the dark-leaved reeds, but almost immediately shediscovered it was only a rubber hose, and she laughed with the rest. 

There were many greenhouses, but after they had been through most ofthem, Mr. Maynard proposed that they have an early luncheon, and then goto see the animals. 

So they went to the picturesque restaurant, and the six travellerssuddenly discovered they were both tired and hungry. 

"But an hour's rest and some good food will make us all over anew, " saidMr. Maynard, "and then we'll be quite ready to call on the lions and thetigers. "

"Is this Bongzoo?" asked Rosy Posy, after she had been comfortablyplaced in a high chair almost like her own at home. 

"Well, this is the place where they feed the animals, " said her father, "and as you're a little kitten, I suppose you'll have some milk?"

"Milk, an' meat, an' 'tatoes, an' pie, an' evvyfing, " announced RosyPosy, folding her chubby hands to await contentedly the filling of hercomprehensive order. 

Being an Ourday the children were allowed to select whatever they chosefrom the _menu_, their parents, however, reserving the right of veto. 

"I want roast beef, " said Kitty, after scanning the more elaborate, butunfamiliar, names. 

"Oh, pshaw, Kit, " said her brother, "you can have that at home! Whydon't you take something different? It's more of a treat. I chooseSupreme of Chicken. "

"I don't like soup, " said Kitty, innocently, and then they all laughed. 

"I think I'll have lobster salad, " announced Marjorie, after long study. 

"I think you won't, " said her father, promptly. "Nobody's to be ill thisafternoon, and that's a risky dish for little folks. Try again, sister. "

Marjorie cheerfully made another perusal of the bill of fare, and atlast declared in favor of chicken hash. 

This was willingly allowed, and when Kitty decided on an omelette withjelly, her choice was also commended. Mrs. Maynard added a few wiseselections, which were for the good of all concerned, and each chose afavorite ice-cream. 

"Oh, what a good time we're having!" said Marjorie. "I do love to eat ata restaurant. "

"It is pleasant once in a while, " said her father. "But for daily food, give me my own family table. "

"Yes, indeed, " agreed Marjorie; "I wouldn't like to _live_ in arestaurant. "

After luncheon they visited the great "rocking-stone. " The immenserock, weighing many tons, was poised on a tiny base, and it almostseemed as if Rosy Posy might push it over, so unstable did it look. 

But indeed she couldn't, nor any of the others, though it was said thata pressure of fifty pounds could make the great stone rock on its base. 

"And now, " said Mr. Maynard, "we're really getting into the Zoo part ofour day. This, Rosy Posy, is your Bongzoo, and first of all here are thebears. "

Delightedly all the children viewed the bears. The great creaturesseemed so mild and gentle, and played with one another in such kittenishfashion, that even Rosy Posy felt no fear of them. There were variousspecies, from the big grizzlies to the little brown cinnamon bears, andall waddled about in a state of comfortable fatness, or lay in the sunand slept peacefully. 

The lions and tigers were far less placid. They stalked up and downtheir small cages, and now and then growled or roared as if very wearyof their long and solitary confinement. 

"He wants to come out, " said Rosy Posy, of a particularly big andferocious-looking lion. "Let him out, Father, he wants to play wiv us. "

"Oh! I think I'd better not, Baby. He might run away and forget to comeback. "

"No, " insisted the child; "I'll put my arms round him, an' make him staywiv me. "

"We won't have time now, Rosy Posy, " said King. "We're going on now tosee the panthers and wolves. Come along with brother. "

So the child slipped her little hand in King's, and they led the familyprocession for a while. 

The monkeys were a great source of amusement, and Rosy Posy thought someof the chimpanzees were little old men, they chattered so glibly. 

But the birds proved a delight to all. 

"Oh!" cried Marjorie. "Will you look at those red and blue parrots!"

"Parrakeets, " corrected Mr. Maynard. "And fine ones, too. And howbeautiful are the white ones with yellow topknots. "

They studied, with some care, the names and homes of the birds, andlearned to distinguish the toucans and orioles and other beautiful, bright-colored species. 

Then on to the big, wise-eyed owls, who blinked and winked at them in asleepy sort of a way. 

The eagles came next, and all were proud of the National bird, as theyviewed the fine specimens on exhibition. The bald eagle and the whiteeagle were favorites, and the vultures and condors were disliked by all. 

An interesting structure was an immense cage, which was larger than anyhouse, and entirely open to view. They walked round all four sides ofit, and were enchanted with its beautiful occupants pants. Storks andflamingoes stood about, on one leg, motionless, as if absorbed in deepcontemplation. Pelicans, with their strange bills, and ducks of mostbrilliant plumage waddled around and seemed to be entirely interested intheir eager audience. 

In another enclosure, cranes and adjutant birds flapped their greatwings, and made long, hopping jumps, and then stood still, as if posingfor their pictures. 

Marjorie proved herself specially quick in picking out each bird, fromits descriptive placard, and she learned the names, both English andLatin, of many of them. 

"You don't mind going to school this way, do you. Midget?" asked herfather. 

"Not a bit! I love it. If I could learn all my lessons out of doors, andwith you to help teach me, I'd be willing to study all the time. "

"Well, we must come here again some day, " said Mr. Maynard, "and see ifyou remember all these jawbreaker names. Now, let's visit the beavers. "

The beaver pond was a strange sight, indeed. Originally there had beenmany tall trees standing in the swampy enclosure, but now nearly all ofthem lay flat in the water. The little busy beavers had gnawed aroundand into the trunks, near the ground, until the tree toppled and fellover. 

"Why do they do it, Father?" asked King, greatly interested. 

"They want to make bridges across the water, " answered Mr. Maynard. "Itshows a wonderful sagacity, for they gnaw the trunk of the tree, atfirst such a place, and in just such a way, that the tree will fallexactly in the direction they want it to. "

"They must scamper to get out of the way when a tree is about to fall, "observed Mrs. Maynard. 

"Indeed, they do, " said her husband. "They are very clever, and mostpatient and untiring workers. See, the trunks they have gnawed have beenprotected by wire netting that visitors may see them. And some of thestanding trees are protected near the ground by wire netting that theymay not be upset at present. "

"Now I know my beaver lesson, " said Marjorie; "let's go on. Father, Ithink I'll change that piece I spoke in school to 'How doth the busylittle beaver, ' instead of bee!"

"They're equally busy creatures, my dear. You may take a lesson fromeither or both. "

"No, thank you. I don't want to work _all_ the time. I'll be a butterflysometimes, 'specially on Ourdays. "

Marjorie jumped and fluttered about more like a grasshopper thananything else, and, swinging by her father's hand, they passed on to thedeer ranges. 

Here were all sorts of deer, and the gentle, timid-eyed creatures cametamely to the railings or nettings and made friends with the visitors. 

"It would be fun to feed them, " said Mr. Maynard, "but it's strictlyforbidden, so we can only talk to them, and hope that they understand. And now, my infants, the sun is travelling homeward, and I think we'lltake our next lesson from him. Would you rather have some sandwiches andice-cream now, or wait until you get home, to refresh yourselves?"

"Now, now, now!" chorused the whole party. 

"Do you know, I thought you'd say that, " said Mr. Maynard. "So supposewe go into this pleasant-looking tea-room, and have a social hour. "

"This makes twice for ice-cream, to-day, " observed Kitty, as shelovingly ate her favorite dainty. "And do we have it to-night fordinner, Mother?"

"Of course. Always on an Ourday night. "

"Oh, how lovely! Three times in one day. "

"Kitty, " said her mother, smiling, "I believe your highest ambition isice-cream. "

"Yes, it is, " said Kitty, complacently; "or else huckleberry pie. "

After the ice-cream, there was the trip home. But the children were nottired, and enjoyed thoroughly the ride, which was more of a treat tothem than to their parents. 

The Subway was fun, the ferryboat ride a delight, and after they were inthe train on the New Jersey side, they coaxed the conductor to turn twoseats to face each other. Then the quartette occupied these, andchattered gaily over the events of the day. 

"Isn't it lovely, " said Marjorie, as they at last entered their ownfront door, "to think we've had such a good time, and yet Ourday isn'tover yet?"

"I know it, " said Kitty. "And 'tis specially lovely for me, 'cause I canstay up to dinner, and dress up, and everything. "

Ourdays always wound up with an extra good dinner, and a touch of galacostume in honor of the occasion. Then after dinner the evening wasdevoted to games or stories or fun of some sort, in which Mr. Maynardwas the ringleader. Other evenings he was not to be disturbed, unless hechose, but Ourday evenings he belonged to the children, and willinglydid whatever they asked him to. 

But at nine o'clock the Ourday was over, and the children trooped off tobed, invariably repeating the same old story, "Now this has _really_been the very best Ourday we _ever_ had!"

CHAPTER XVII

A SUBSTITUTE GUEST

Thanksgiving Day came late that year. The red-lettered Thursday on thecalendar didn't appear until the last part of the month. But winter hadset in early, and already there was fine coasting and skating. 

Marjorie loved all out-of-door sports, and the jolly afternoons spent onthe hill or on the lake sent her home with cheeks as rosy as a hard, sound, winter apple. 

The Thanksgiving season always meant festivity of some sort. Sometimesthey all went to Grandma Sherwood's in orthodox traditional fashion, andsometimes they went to Grandma Maynard's, who lived in New York. 

But this year Mr. And Mrs. Maynard expected friends of their own, somegrown-ups from the city, to spend the holiday. 

"No children!" exclaimed Marjorie, when she heard about it. 

"No, Midge, " said her mother. "You must help me entertain my guests thistime, as I sometimes help you entertain yours. "

"Indeed you do, you sweetest mother in all the world!" cried impetuousMidget, as she flung herself into her mother's arms. Midget's embraceswere of the strenuous order, and, though Mrs. Maynard never warded themoff, she was often obliged to brace herself for the sudden impact. 

"And I'll help you a heap, " went on Marjorie. "What can I do? May I makeIndian pudding with raisins in it?"

Midge was just having a spell of learning to cook, and good-naturedEllen had taught her a few simple dishes, of which Indian pudding wasthe favorite. 

"No thank you, dearie. As it is a festival occasion, I think we'll havesomething a little more elaborate than that. You can help me better bytrying to behave decorously, and by keeping the other children quietwhen they are in the drawing-room. Mr. And Mrs. Crawford have never hadany children, and they don't like noise and confusion. "

"You're more used to it, aren't you, Mother?" said Marjorie, againspringing to give her mother one of her spasmodic embraces, andincidentally upsetting that long-suffering lady's work-basket. 

"I have to be if I live with my whirlwind of an eldest daughter, " saidMrs. Maynard, when she could get her breath once more. 

"Yes'm. And I'm awful sorry I upset your basket, but now I'll just dumpit out entirely, and clear it up from the beginning; shall I?"

"Yes, do; it always looks so nice after you put it in order. "

And so it did, for Marjorie was methodical in details, and she arrangedthe little reels of silk, and put the needles tidily in their cushion, until the basket was in fine order. 

"There, " she said, admiring her own work, "don't you touch that, Mother, until after Thanksgiving Day; and then it will be all in order for Mrs. Crawford to see. When is she coming?"

"They'll arrive Wednesday night and stay over until Friday morning. Youmay help me make the guest-rooms fresh and pretty for them. "

"Yes; I'll stick pins in the cushions to make the letters of theirnames. Shall I?"

"Well, no; I don't believe I care for that particular fancy. But I'llshow you how I do like the pins put in, and you may do it for me. Now, run out and play, we'll have ample time for our housekeeping affairslater on. "

Away went Marjorie, after bestowing another tumultuous bear-hug on hermother. She whisked on her hat and coat, and with her mittens still inher hand, flew out of the door, banging it after her. 

"Cold weather always goes to that child's muscles, " thought Mrs. Maynard, as she heard the noise. "She never bangs doors in summer time. "

"Wherever have you been?" cried the others, as Marjorie joined them onthe hill. 

"Talking to Mother. I meant to come out right away after school, but Iforgot about it. "

Gladys Fulton looked at her curiously. She wasn't "intimate" with hermother, as Marjorie was, and she didn't quite understand therelationship. 

In another minute Midge was on her sled, and, with one red-mittenedhand waving on high, was whizzing down the hill. 

King caught up to her, and the others followed, and then they all walkedback up the hill together. 

"Going to have fun, Thanksgiving Day?" asked Dick Fulton, as theyclimbed along. 

"No. We're going to have a silly old Thanksgiving, " said Marjorie. "Onlygrown-ups to visit us, and that means we don't have any good of Fatherat all. "

"Aw, horrid!" said King. "Is that the programme? I didn't know it. "

"Yes!" went on Marjorie, "and I've promised Mother to behave myself andto make all you others behave, too. " Her own eyes danced, as she saidthis, and King burst into laughter. 

"That's a good one!" he cried. "Why, it will take the whole Maynardfamily to make you behave yourself, let alone the rest of us. "

"No, truly, I'm going to be good, 'cause Mother asked me most'specially. " Marjorie's earnest air was convincing, but King wasskeptical. 

"You mean to be good, all right, " he said, "but at the party you'll dosome crazy thing without thinking. "

"Very likely, " said Mopsy, cheerfully, and then they all slid down hillagain. 

The day before Thanksgiving Day everything was in readiness for theguests. 

Mr. Maynard had come home early, and the whole family were in thedrawing-room to await the arrival. 

This, in itself, was depressing, for to be dressed up and sitting instate at four o'clock in the afternoon is unusual, and, therefore, uncomfortable. 

Marjorie had a new frock, of the material that Kitty called "AlbertaRoss. " It was very pretty, being white, trimmed here and there withknots of scarlet velvet, and Midget was greatly pleased with it, thoughshe looked longingly out of the window, and thought of her red clothplay-dress and her shining skates. 

However, she had promised to be good, and she looked as demure as St. Cecilia, as she sat quietly on the sofa with an eye on the behavior ofher younger sisters. 

Kitty and Rosy Posy, both in freshly-laundered, white muslin frocks, also sat demurely, with folded hands, while King, rather restlessly, moved about the room, now and then looking from the window. 

"You children get on my nerves!" said Mr. Maynard, at last. "I begin tothink you're not my own brood at all. Is it necessary, Mother, to havethis solemn stillness, just because we expect some friends to see us?"

Mrs. Maynard smiled. 

"These children, " she said, "have no idea of moderation. It _isn't_necessary for them to sit like wax-works, but if they didn't they'd beturning somersaults, or upsetting tables, --though, of course, theywouldn't mean to. "

"I daresay you're right, " said Mr. Maynard, with a sigh, "and I do wantthem to behave like civilized beings, when our friends come. "

"There they are, now!" cried King, as the doorbell was heard. "But Idon't see any carriage, " he added, looking from the window. In a momentSarah appeared with a telegram for Mrs. Maynard. 

"They are delayed, " said that lady, prophetically, "and won't arrivetill the next train. " But this she said while she was opening theenvelope. As she read the message, her face fell, and she exclaimed, "Oh, they're not coming at all. "

"Not coming?" said Mr. Maynard, taking the yellow paper. 

"No; Mrs. Crawford's sister is ill, and she can't leave her. Oh, I'm sodisappointed!"

"It is too bad, my dear; I'm very sorry for you. I wish they could havelet you know sooner. "

"Yes, I wish so, too. Then we could have gone out to Grandma Sherwood'sfor the day. "

"Is it too late for that?" asked Marjorie, eagerly. "Can't we get ready, and fly off in a hurry?"

"_You_ could, " said her father, smiling. "And probably we all could. ButGrandma Sherwood couldn't get ready for six starving savages in suchshort order. Moreover, I fancy Mother has a larder full of good thingshere that must be eaten by somebody. What shall we do, Helen?"

"I don't know, Ed. I'll leave it to you. Plan anything you like. "

"Then I'll leave it to the children. Speak up, friends. Who would youlike to ask to eat Thanksgiving dinner with you?"

The children considered. 

"It ought to be somebody from out of town, " said Marjorie. "That makesit seem more like a special party. "

"I'll tell you!" exclaimed Kitty. "Let's ask Molly Moss. "

"Just the one!" cried Marjorie. "How'd you come to think of her, Kit?But I 'most know her people won't let her come, and there isn't time, anyway. "

"There's time enough, " said Mr. Maynard. "I'll call them up on thelong-distance telephone now. Then if Molly can come, they can put her onthe train to-morrow morning, and we'll meet her here. But I doubt if hermother will spare her on Thanksgiving Day. "

However, to Mr. Maynard's surprise, Mrs. Moss consented to let Molly go, and as a neighbor was going on the early morning train, and could lookafter her, the matter was easily arranged. 

Marjorie was in transports of glee. 

"I'm truly sorry, Mother, " she said, "that you can't have your owncompany, but, as you can't, I'm so glad Molly is coming. Now, that fixesto-morrow, but what can we do to-day to have fun?"

"I think it's King's turn, " said Mr. Maynard. "Let him invite somebodyto dine with us to-night. "

"That's easy, " said Kingdon. "I choose Dick and Gladys. We can telephonefor them right away. "

"They don't seem much like company, " said Marjorie, "but I'd rather havethem than anybody else I know of. "

"Then it's all right, " said Mrs. Maynard, "and, as they're not formalcompany, you'd better all change those partified clothes for somethingyou can romp about in. "

"Yes, let's do that, " said Kitty. "I can't have fun in dress-up things. "

And so it was an informal lot of children who gathered about thedinner-table, instead of the guests who had been expected. 

But Mr. Maynard exerted himself quite as much to be entertaining as ifhe had had grown-up companions, and the party was a merry one indeed. 

After dinner the young people were sent to the playroom, as the elderswere expecting callers. 

"Tell me about Molly Moss, " said Gladys to Marjorie. "What sort of agirl is she?"

"Crazy, " said Marjorie, promptly. "You never knew anybody, Glad, whocould get up such plays and games as she does. And she gets intoterrible mischief, too. She's going to stay several days, and we'll havelots of fun while she's here. At Grandma's last summer, we playedtogether nearly all the time. You'll like her, I know. And she'll like_you_, of course. We'll all have fun together. "

Gladys was somewhat reassured, but she had a touch of jealousy in hernature, and, as she was really Marjorie's most intimate friend, sheresented a little bit the coming of this stranger. 

"She sounds fine, " was Dick's comment, as he heard about Molly. "We'llgive her the time of her life. Can she skate, Mops?"

"Oh, I guess so. I only knew her last summer, but I'm sure she can doanything. "

When Molly arrived the next morning, she flew into the house like asmall and well-wrapped-up cyclone. She threw her muff in one direction, and her gloves in another, and made a mad dash for Marjorie. 

Then, remembering her manners, she spoke politely to Mrs. Maynard. 

"How do you do?" she said; "it was very kind of you to invite me here, and I hope you won't make me any trouble. There! Mother told me to saythat, and I've been studying it all the way, for fear I'd forget it. "

Mrs. Maynard smiled, for Molly was entirely unaware of the mistake shehad made in her mother's message, and the other children had not noticedit, either. 

"We're glad to have you with us, my dear, " Mrs. Maynard replied; "and Ihope you'll enjoy yourself and have a real good time. "

"Yes'm, " said Molly, "I always do. "

Then the children ran away to play out-of-doors until dinner-time. 

"It's so queer to be here, " said Molly, who had never before been awayfrom home alone. 

"It's queer to have you, but it's nice, " said Marjorie. "Which do youlike best, summer or winter?"

"Both!" declared Molly. "Whichever one it is, I like that one; don'tyou?"

"Yes, I s'pose so. But I like winter best. There's so much to do. Why, Molly, I'm busy every minute. Of course, school takes most of the time, so I have to crowd all the fun into the afternoons and Saturdays. "

"Oh, is this your hill?" exclaimed Molly, as they reached their favoritecoasting-ground. "What a little one! Why, the hills at home are twice aslong as this. "

"I know it, " said Mopsy, apologetically; "but this is the longest onehere. Won't it do?"

"Oh, yes, " said Molly, who did not mean to be unpleasantly critical, butwho was merely surprised. "But you have to be going up and down all thetime. "

"We do, " agreed King. "But it's fun. And, anyway, you have to go up anddown all the time if it's a longer hill, don't you?"

"So you do, " admitted Molly, "but it seems different. "

However, after a few journeys up and down, she declared the hill was afirst-rate coaster, and she liked it better than a long one, because itwas easier to walk up. 

They all liked Molly. Gladys concluded she was a welcome addition totheir crowd, and both Kingdon and Dick thought her a jolly girl. 

She was daring, --sometimes a little too much so, --but she wasgood-natured, and very kind and pleasant. 

"Don't you ever hitch on?" she asked, as they all trudged up hill. 

"What's that mean?" asked Gladys. 

"Why, hitch on behind sleighs. Or big wagon-sleds. "

"With horses?"

"Yes, of course. It's lots of fun. Come on, let's try it. "

Out to the road they went, and waited for a passing sleigh. Soon Mr. Abercrombie's turnout came by. 

This gentleman was one of the richest men in Rockwell, and verydignified and exclusive. Indeed, he was a bit surly, and not very wellliked by his fellow townsmen. But he had a fine sleigh and a magnificentpair of horses, which were driven by a coachman in a brave livery andfur cape. 

"Please give us a hitch, " called out Molly, as the glittering equipagedrew near. 

"Bless my soul!" exclaimed Mr. Abercrombie, as he looked at the child. 

Molly was always elf-like in appearance, but the wind had reddened hercheeks, and blown wisps of her straight black hair about her face, until she looked crazier than ever. 

The big sleigh had stopped, and Mr. Abercrombie glared at the group ofchildren. 

"What did you say?" he demanded, and Molly repeated her request. 

Marjorie was a little shocked at the performance, but she thoughtloyalty to her guest required that she should stand by her, so shestepped to Molly's side and took hold of her hand. 

The two surprised boys were about to enter a protest, when Mr. Abercrombie smiled a little grimly, and said:

"Yes, indeed. That's what I'm out for. Martin, fasten these sleds onbehind somehow. "

The obedient footman left his place, and, though the order must havebeen an unusual one, he showed no sign of surprise. 

"Yes, sir, " he said, touching his hat. "Beg pardon, sir, but what shallI fasten them to, sir?"

"I said fasten them to this sleigh! If there isn't any way to do it, invent one. Fasten one sled, and then that can hold the next one, allthe way along. Blockhead!"

"Yes, sir; very good, sir. " And, touching his hat again, theunperturbed footman went to work. How he did it, they never knew, forthe sleigh had not been constructed for the purpose of "giving a hitch"to children's sleds, but somehow the ingenious Martin attached a sledsecurely to the back of the big sleigh. Molly took her seat thereon, andthen another sled was easily fastened to the back of hers. And so on, until all were arranged. 

Then the footman calmly returned to his own place, the coachman touchedup the horses, the bells jingled gaily, and they were off!

Such a ride as they had! It was ever so much more fun than riding in thesleigh, and though the boys, who were at the end of the line of sleds, fell off occasionally, they floundered on again, and were all rightuntil they turned another sharp corner. 

"Thank you, _very_ much, mister, " said Molly, heartily, as they nearedthe Maynard home; "we're going to leave you now. "

Again the sleigh stopped, the dignified footman came and released thesleds, and, after a chorus of thanks from the merry children, Mr. Abercrombie drove away in his solitary splendor. 

"You beat the Dutch, Molly!" cried King. "I never should have dreamed ofasking Lord Abercrombie, as people call him, to give us a ride. "

"I think he liked it as well as we did, " said Molly. 

"I think so, too, " said Marjorie, "and I hope some day he'll take usagain. "

CHAPTER XVIII

THANKSGIVING DAY

The Thanksgiving Dinner was a jollification. 

The Maynard children were always a merry crowd, but the added element ofMolly's gaiety gave a new zest to the fun. 

The pretty table decorations, planned for the expected guests, weremodified better to suit the children's tastes, and when dinner wasannounced and they all went out to the dining-room, a general shout ofapplause was raised. 

In the middle of the table was a large "horn of plenty, " fashioned ofgilded pasteboard. From its capacious mouth were tumbling oranges, apples, bananas, grapes, nuts, figs, and raisins. The horn itself wasbeautifully decorated, and seemed to be suspended from the chandelierabove by red ribbons. 

Also, red ribbons, starting from the horn itself, led to each person'splate, and at the end of each ribbon was a name-card. 

Gleefully the children took their places, and laughed merrily at thefunny little souvenirs that stood at their plates. 

Kingdon had a jolly pig, made of a lemon, with wooden toothpicks stuckin for legs, a curly tail made of a bit of celery, and two black-headedpins for eyes. 

Marjorie had a horse made of a carrot, which looked like a very friskysteed, indeed. 

"It should have been made of a horse-radish, " said Mr. Maynard, who wasthe originator of these toys, "but I feared that would make you weepinstead of laugh. "

Molly had a gay-looking figure, whose head was a fig, his body a potato, and his legs and arms bunches of raisins. He wore a red fez with afeather in it, and a red tunic tied with gold braid. 

Kitty had a nut doll, whose head was a hazelnut, and its body an Englishwalnut. Its feet and hands were peanuts, stuck on the ends of matches. 

Rosy Posy had a card on which were several white mice. These were madeof blanched almonds, fastened to the card by stitches of thread, whichlooked like tiny legs and tails. 

Mrs. Maynard found at her place a tiny figure of a dancing girl. Thehead was a small white grape, and the body and ruffled skirts weremerely a large carnation turned upside down. 

And Mr. Maynard's own souvenir was a funny old fat man, whose body wasan apple, and his head a hickory nut. 

Molly had never seen such toys before, and she was enraptured with them, declaring she should learn to make them for her friends at home. 

"You can do it, if you try, " said Marjorie, sagely; "but they aren'teasy to make. Father does them so beautifully, because he is patient andcareful. But you and I, Molly, are too slapdash. We'd never take painsto make them so neatly. "

"Yes, I would, " declared Molly, positively; "because I see how nice theylook when they're done well! I don't want any broken-legged pigs, ortumble-to-pieces dolls. "

"That's the way to talk, " said Mr. Maynard, approvingly; "I foresee, Molly, we shall be great friends, and I'll teach you the noble art ofwhat I call 'pantry sculpture. '"

After the turkey and other substantial dishes had been disposed of, dessert was brought, and, to the great delight of the children, itcomprised many and various confections. 

First, there was placed at each plate a dear little mince pie, hot, andcovered with a drift of powdered sugar. In the middle of each pie stooda lighted candle. 

"Oh, ho, it's somebody's birthday!" cried King, as he saw the candles. 

"Somebody's only one year old, then, " said Molly. 

"These aren't birthday candles exactly, " said Mr. Maynard. "They're justcandles to keep the pies hot. But as I want to eat my pie, I'll just eatthe candle first, and get it out of the way. "

So saying, he calmly blew out the flame, and in a moment had eaten thecandle, wick and all!

"Oh, Father!" cried Marjorie. "How could you do that? Do you like waxcandles?"

"These candles aren't exactly wax, " said her father, "and I must saymine tasted very good. "

Molly's bright black eyes snapped. 

"If Mr. Maynard can eat candles, so can I!" she declared, and, blowingout the flame, she bit off the end of her own candle. 

"It _is_ good, " she said, as she munched it. "I like candles, too. "

So then they all tried eating candles. Marjorie tasted hers carefully, and then took a larger bite. 

"Why, it's apple!" she cried. And so it was. The "candles" had been cutwith an apple-corer, and the "wicks" were bits of almond cut the rightshape and stuck in the top of the candle. The oil in the nut causes itto burn for a few moments, and the whole affair looks just like a realcandle. 

The mince pies were followed by ice-cream, and that by fruits andcandies, and then the feast was over, but every one carried away thejolly little souvenirs to keep as mementoes of the occasion. Skating wasthe order of the afternoon. 

Mr. Maynard went with the older children, while Mrs. Maynard and RosyPosy amused themselves at home. 

Kitty couldn't skate very well, but all the others were fairly goodskaters, and soon they were gliding over the ice, while Mr. Maynardpushed Kitty in a sliding chair. She thought she had the most fun ofall, but the others preferred their own feet to a chair, and skatedtirelessly around the lake, not at all dismayed by somewhat frequentupsets and tumbledowns. 

The Fultons joined them, and several others, and Molly soon madeacquaintance with many of the Maynards' friends. 

Molly was such a daring child that Mr. Maynard carefully warned herabout going near the thin places in the ice, and she promised to avoidthem. But it was with some uneasiness he watched the young skaters, when, at Molly's suggestion, they played "Snap the Whip. "

This meant to join hands in a long row, and, after skating rapidly, theone at the end stood still and swung the others round like the lash of awhip. No trouble was likely to occur if they held hands firmly. But toseparate meant that the end ones would be whirled away, and might get abad fall. 

As the boys were strong and sturdy, and the girls had promised to holdon tightly and carefully, Mr. Maynard let them play this game, though hehad always thought it a dangerous sport. 

"Just once more, " begged Marjorie, when at last he told them he wouldrather they'd play something else--and permission was given for one more"Snap the Whip, " on condition that it should be the last. And it was. 

Marjorie was on one end, and Molly was next to her. 

Kingdon was at the other end, and, after a few vigorous strokes, hepulled the line about so suddenly that Molly, who was not expecting itso soon, was jerked away from her next neighbor. 

She and Marjorie were flung with force across the ice, but they werequite alert, kept their balance perfectly, and would have been skatingback again in a minute, but they chanced upon a thin place in the ice, and it broke through, and in they went!

Many of the children screamed, but Molly's voice rang out clear abovethe rest:

"Don't yell so! We're all right, only it's awful cold. Just get us outas quick as you can. "

Relieved to learn that they hadn't gone under the water, Mr. Maynardsoon found a fence-rail, and, with the boys' assistance, it was not longbefore the dripping girls were once more outside the lake, instead ofinside. 

"No harm done, if you obey my orders, " said Mr. Maynard, cheerily, forthe two white faces looked more scared than they had at first. Hehurriedly took off their skates, and then said, "Now, run for home, justas fast as you can go, and the one who gets there first shall have aprize. "

A little bewildered by this order, but quite ready to obey, Marjoriestarted at once and fairly flew over the hard ground. Molly followed, and in a moment had overtaken and passed Midget. But spurred by this, Midget ran faster, and at last, quite out of breath, and also quitewarm, they reached the Maynard house at almost exactly the same time. 

Exhausted, they tumbled in at the door, and Mrs. Maynard met them in thehall. 

"What _is_ the matter?" she exclaimed. "Where _have_ you been?"

"Skating, " said Marjorie, hurriedly, "and we fell in, and Father saidto run home quick and get dry shoes and things and he'd give us aprize. "

"A prize!" said Mrs. Maynard, laughing. "You deserve a prize, indeed! Ahot bath is what you'll get, and a drink of hot milk. "

"All right, " said Mopsy, cheerfully, "I don't mind; and, while we'reabout it, we may as well dress for afternoon. "

The programme was carried out as arranged, and not very long after twospick-and-span little girls were sitting by the library fire, sippinghot milk with nutmeg in it. 

"Well, upon my word!" said Mr. Maynard, coming in with King and Kitty. "I must have been mistaken! Only a short time ago I saw two childrenfloundering in the lake, and I thought--I truly did--that they wereMidge and Molly! How could I have made such a foolish mistake?"

"It was strange, indeed!" said Molly, with twinkling eyes. "Have youbeen skating, Mr. Maynard?"

"Part of the time. But the rest of the time I was organizing andassisting a rescue party to save those foolish children I was justtelling you of. "

"We were foolish!" cried Marjorie, jumping up and running to herfather's arms. "I'll never do it again, Daddy, dear. "

"Indeed you won't, my lady. I hereby issue a mandamus, a fiat, awrit, --and if you don't know what those things are, I'll say a plainevery-day rule that is not to be broken, --that you are never to play'Snap the Whip' again. This is a rule for Marjorie, and to you, Molly, it's a piece of advice. "

"I'll take it, " said Molly, so meekly that Mr. Maynard smiled, and said:

"Now that incident is closed, and we needn't mention it again. I don'tbelieve you'll even take cold from your sudden plunge, for you both ranhome like killdeer. And, by the way, who won the prize?"

"We came in almost exactly together, " said Marjorie. "I was a little bitahead at the door, but Molly was first at the gate, so isn't that even?"

"It surely is, and so you must both have prizes. I haven't them with meat the moment, but I'll engage to supply them before Molly goes home. "

Thanksgiving evening was given over to games and quiet frolics. 

Mrs. Maynard said the children had had enough excitement for one day, and they must play only sitting-still games, and then go to bed early. So Mr. Maynard proposed a game in which all could join, and when it wasfinished it would be bedtime for young people. 

He produced a large spool, through which had been run a number ofdifferent colored and very narrow ribbons. Mr. Maynard held the spool, with the short ends of the ribbons hanging out toward himself, while thelong ends of the ribbons, which reached across the room were apportionedone to each child. 

They were allowed to select their own colors, and Marjorie took red, andMolly pink. Kitty had the blue one, and King a yellow one. Mrs. Maynardheld a white one, and as Rosamond had gone to bed, no more ribbons wereused, though there were others in the spool. 

"Now, " said Mr. Maynard, "I'll begin to tell a story, make it up as I goalong, you know, and then when I stop I'll pull one of these ends. Iwon't look to see which one I pull, but whoever holds the other end ofthe same ribbon, must take up the story and go on with it. Do youunderstand?"

"Yes, " said all the children at once; so Mr. Maynard began:

"Once on a time there was a Princess who hadn't any name. The reason forthis sad state of affairs was that no one could think of a name goodenough for her. She was so beautiful and so lovely and sweet-temperedthat every name seemed commonplace, and the King and Queen who were herparents offered a great reward to any one who would suggest a name thatseemed appropriate. But, though they proposed every name that was known, and made up a great many more, none seemed to suit, and so the Princessgrew up without any name at all. But one day her grandmother gave her alovely little writing-desk for a birthday present. The Princess wasdelighted, and immediately she learned to write letters. But, strange tosay, she never received any answers to the letters she sent. Dayspassed, and weeks passed, but nobody answered the letters. She went tothe Court Wise Man, and said to him:

"'Prithee, tell me, oh, Seer, why do my friends not answer the letters Ihave sent them?'

"'Oh, Princess!' said the Court Wise Man, 'it is because you have noname, and, though they have already written letters to you, they knownot how to address them. For how can one address a letter to a namelessperson?'

"'How, indeed!' cried the Princess. 'But I will have a name. I willchoose one for myself. '

"So she sat down, and thought deeply for a long time, and then shejumped up, saying:

"'I have chosen a name! I shall henceforth be called----'"

Mr. Maynard made a dramatic pause, and then pulled quickly on one of theends of ribbon that hung from his side of the spool. 

CHAPTER XIX

A SPOOL OF YARNS

Mr. Maynard pulled the ribbon of which Kitty held the other end, and thelittle girl jumped as she felt the ribbon move in her hand. But Kittywas usually ready for an emergency. 

"Violetta Evangeline, " she said. "The Princess thought that was the mostbeautiful name in the world, and I think so, too. Well, then, herfather, the King, had the news sent all through the kingdom that hisdaughter was named at last, and then everybody sent her letters. She hadbags and bags full of mail every day, and they had to put on an extrapostman. And she had valentines in the mail, and catalogues, andbirthday presents, and samples of dresses, and seeds for flowers, and, --and magazines, and, --and, --and one day a little live kitten cameto her in the mail, and she was _so_ pleased. So she named the kittenToodle-Doo, and wherever she went she took the kitten with her. And oneday she went off on a long journey, and of course Toodle-Doo went withher. And as they went along, --and went along----"

Just here Mr. Maynard pulled another ribbon, and Molly gave a startledjump. 

So Kitty stopped, and Molly took up the story:

"They went along, " said she, dropping her voice to a tragic whisper, "ona dark and lonely road. And a great pirate jumped out at them, andcried, 'What, ho! The password?' And Violetta Evangeline didn't know thepassword, but she guessed at it, and she guessed, 'Crackers and Cheese, 'and, as it happened, she guessed just right, and they let her gothrough. "

"Through what?" asked King, greatly interested. 

"Oh! I don't know, " returned Molly, carelessly; "through the gate, Is'pose, into the enchanted garden. So she went in, and everythingenchanted happened all at once. She was turned into a fairy, and thekitten was turned into a canary bird, and he roosted on the fairy'sshoulder, and then he began to sing. And then the enchantment turned himinto a music-box, and so Violetta Evangeline didn't have any kitten orany bird or anybody to play with. But just then the Fairy Prince camealong, and he said he'd play with her. And he said she could play withhis toys. So she went to see them, and they were all made of gold andjewels. His tops were of gold, and his kites were of gold all set withrubies and diamonds. "

"Huh, " said King, "they couldn't fly!"

"These kites could, " said Molly, quite undisturbed, "because they wereenchanted kites, and that made the diamonds as light as feathers. "

But just then Marjorie's ribbon twitched. She had been waiting for it, and she picked up the story where Molly left off. 

"The kites were so _very_ light, " said Midge, "that one of them flewaway entirely. And as Violetta Angeline was hanging on to its string, she was carried along with it, and in a jiffy she was over the wall andoutside of the enchanted garden, so then she wasn't enchanted any more, but she was just a Princess again. So she walked forth, and soughtadventures. And her first adventure was with a dragon. He was an awfulbig dragon, and flames of fire came out of his mouth and his ears andhis toes. But the Princess wasn't afraid of him, and as there was a bighydrant near by, she turned it on him and put the flames out. Then hewailed, and wept, and he said: 'Oh, Violetta Angelina, I have a woe! Oh, oh, I have a woe!' And as she was a kind Princess, she said, 'Tell mewhat your woe is, and perhaps I can help you. ' So the Dragon said----"

Here Kingdon's ribbon pulled, and, though taken somewhat unawares, theboy tried to jump right into the story-telling, and he said:

"'Yes, yes, my dear, ' said the Dragon, 'I have a woe, and it's this:everybody laughs at me because I cannot climb a tree!' 'Is that all?'asked the Princess, in surprise; 'why, I will teach you to climb atree. ' 'Oh, if you only would!' exclaimed the Dragon. So the Princesstaught him to climb a tree, and they all lived happy ever after. "

King brought his story to an abrupt close, because his mother had begunto look at the clock, and to intimate by sundry nods and gestures thatit was bedtime. 

"But Mother hasn't told any of the story yet, " said Kitty, who washerself so sleepy she could scarcely listen even to the tale of her ownVioletta Evangeline. 

"Mother's story must wait till some other time, " said Mrs. Maynard. "This is the time for everybody of fourteen years or less to skip-hop upto bed. "

So away trooped the children, glad to have learned a new game, andcarefully putting away for future use the spool with the ribbons throughit. 

"But the ribbons don't really make any difference, " said Molly, as theywent upstairs. "You could just as well _say_ whose turn comes next. "

"But it's so much prettier, " argued Marjorie; "and it makes it seem somuch more like a game. "

"What's the name of the game?"

"I don't know; let's make up one. "

"All right; Spool Stories, --no, Spool Yarn. "

"A Spool of Yarns!" cried Marjorie, clapping her hands. "That's the verything!"

And so "A Spool of Yarns" became one of their favorite games, and wasoften played in the evenings or on stormy days. 

The rest of Molly's visit passed all too quickly, and Marjorie was sadindeed the day her friend returned home. 

But Mrs. Maynard bore the blow bravely. 

"She's a dear little girl, " she said, after Molly had gone; "but she_is_ a lively one. In fact, she's a regular Maynard, and four youngMaynards are just about all I can stand in the house permanently. "

"Weren't we good, Mother?" asked Marjorie, anxiously. 

"Yes, dear, you were good enough. Really, you didn't get into muchmischief; but I suppose you've no idea how much noise you made. "

"No'm, I haven't, " said Marjorie. "And now I guess I'll go skating. "

"Very well, Midge; but remember what Father told you about 'Snap theWhip. '"

"Oh, yes, indeed, Mother. I can never forget that, 'cause I have myprize, you know. "

True to his word to give them both prizes, Mr. Maynard had brought thegirls each a dainty silver bangle, from which hung a tiny pair ofskates. This, he said, was to remind them of the dangerous game, and oftheir really narrow escape on Thanksgiving Day. 

Later that afternoon Marjorie came home from her skating in a greatstate of excitement. 

"Oh, Mother, " she said; "Miss Merington has asked me to be at her tableat the Bazaar! Won't that be lovely?"

"Miss Merington! What does she want of a little girl like you?"

"Oh, she wants me to help her! Just afternoons, you know; not evenings. She's going to have two or three girls to help her. Miss Frost askedGladys to be with her. You see, it's this way. Haven't you heard aboutthe Alphabet of Booths?"

"No; what does that mean?"

"Well, I'll tell you. You see, the whole big Bazaar is going to bedivided up into twenty-six booths. Each one is a letter--A, B, C, youknow. Then everybody who takes charge of the booth begins with thatletter, and sells those things. "

"What things?"

"Why, Mother, like this. The A booth is in charge of Mrs. Andrews, andshe sells apples and andirons, and, --and anything that begins with A. "

"Then I should think she could sell 'anything, '" said Mrs. Maynard, laughing. 

"Oh, Mother, that's lovely and witty. I'll tell Mrs. Andrews that. Well, and then Mrs. Burns has the B booth, and she sells beads and books andbaskets and whatever begins with B. "

"Oh, yes, I understand. And it's very clever. And so Miss Meringtoninvited you to help her?"

"Yes, and Miss Frost invited Gladys, because Fulton begins with F. But, Mother, I can't think of a thing to sell that begins with M. Somethingthat I can make, I mean. I can only think of melons and mantelpieces. "

"How about mats?"

"Oh, yes, I can make mats. Crochet them, you mean? Will you show mehow?"

"Yes, and mops, too; you can make mops, or buy them, either. I supposethey expect you to contribute some articles to be sold. I'll make somefor you, too. I'll make you a lovely big, soft melon cushion, a headrest, you know. And, oh, Mopsy! I'll give you some mixed pickles, someof those good ones that Ellen puts up. They'll sell well, I know. "

"Oh, goody, Mother; I'll have a lot of things to give them, won't I? AndMiss Merington will be so pleased. She's a lovely lady. "

"Yes, she's a charming girl, and I'm glad to have you help her. PerhapsFather can think up some things for you that begin with M. "

This was a good suggestion, and that very evening Midget put thequestion:

"Father, what begins with M that you could sell?"

"Why, Mopsy Midget Maynard, I could sell you, but I doubt if I could geta big enough price. You're a pretty valuable piece of property. "

"Yes, but don't joke, Daddy. I mean really, in earnest, for the Bazaar, you know. "

"Oh, yes, I've heard about that wonderful Bazaar. Well, let me see. Areyou allowed to have any sort of wares if they begin with the rightletter?"

"Yes, I think so. Mother thought of mats and mops. "

"That's a good start. How are you to get these things? Do you donatethem all to the Bazaar?"

"Yes; or Miss Merington said we could ask people to give us things, butI don't like to do that. "

"No; not from strangers, of course. But I'm sure Mr. Gordon will be gladto give you some toys or notions out of his store. He's such an oldfriend of mine, I wouldn't mind your asking him. And then I think UncleSteve would send you a few trinkets, or Grandma Sherwood might. But mostof your contributions I think we'll get up here at home. Now, let's bemethodical, because that begins with M, and first we'll make somelists. "

Marjorie was greatly interested, and flew for a pad and pencil, and thenwaited for her father to make his lists. 

"I declare, Midget, " he said, at last, "this is harder than I thought. Ican't think of a thing but mahogany bureaus and marble mantles. "

"How about marbles, Father? I mean the kind you play marbles with. "

"That's good, Midge. Mr. Gordon will give you those. I don't want you toask any one else, but Tom Gordon told me he would give a lot of thingsto the Bazaar, and he said for you to go down there and pick out whatyou want. "

"Oh, that will be lovely! Now, let's think what else he has. "

"Yes, that's the way to get at it. In a shop like his, with all sorts ofstationery and toys and knick-knacks, there ought to be lots of M's. Well, doubtless he'll give you some music, --sheet-music, you know; andperhaps some magazines. Oh, and memorandum-books. You can always sellthose to business men. Then he has maps, too; pocket-maps, or evenlarger ones. And I think that's all you ought to expect from him. "

"Yes, that's enough. Now, what can I make myself?"

"I daresay Mother finished the list when she said mats and mops. I don'tknow of anything else, unless it's mantillas. "

"What are they?"

"Don't you know? Well, it is an old-fashioned word. They're ladies'cloaks, mantles, you know. "

"Oh, Father, I could make some for dolls!"

"Yes, that's good; if you can sew well enough. "

"Mother will help me with the hard parts. But, really, they will belovely. All the little girls will buy them. Now, can't I make somethingelse?"

"Why, yes; make candy! Marshmallows, --I'll teach you how; you know I'm afamous candy-maker. But I don't know any other sort, --unless we saymint-drops. Would that do?"

"Oh, yes. And I can make mottoes. Any kind of candy, you know, done upin motto-papers. "

"That's a fine idea! We'll all make a lot of home-made candy, and helpyou wrap it the night before the show. Then your nice, fresh mottoeswill go off like hot cakes. "

"Yes, indeed. And Ellen is going to give me some jars of her good mixedpickles. "

"Oh, Ellen can help you a lot. Ask her to make you some mince pies andmarmalade, and macaroons. "

"Goody! Goody! I can have a regular food sale, all of M's! Why, it's alovely letter, after all. I'm glad it's mine. "

"How are they going to manage the Q and X and Z?"

"I think they're going to leave out X and Z. But Q is to be a table fullof queer things. Indian curiosities, and such things. Miss Meringtontold me about it. Gladys is going to be with Miss Frost. She's going tomake fudge, and paper fairies. And her father is going to give her a lotof fans, --Japanese ones, --and Dick is going to cut her out some fretworkthings with his scroll-saw. "

"Well, I think the ladies will have very helpful little assistants. I'llbring you a budget of things from the city, and we'll all have a bee tomake candy for you. "

The bee was great fun. The day before the Bazaar, Mr. Maynard broughthome all sorts of goodies to make the candies with. He came home earlythat they might begin in the afternoon. 

All the Maynard family went to work, and Ellen and Sarah helped some, too. 

They made all sorts of candies that could be formed with the right shapeand size for mottoes. 

Rosy Posy, who loved to cut paper, snipped away at the sheets of printedverses, and really helped by cutting the couplets apart, all ready to betucked into the papers with the candies. 

The result of their labors was a big box of lovely-looking "mottoes, "all neatly twisted into fringed or scalloped papers of bright colors. 

King proposed that Midget should have a restaurant at the Bazaar, andserve macaroni, and mackerel, muskmelons, and milk. 

But Mr. Maynard said he feared that would necessitate medicine andmedical attendance. 

CHAPTER XX

THE CHARITY BAZAAR

The Bazaar opened Thursday afternoon, and was to continue the rest ofthe week. As it was for a public charity, the whole town was interested, and the Town Hall, where the Bazaar was held, was gaily decorated forthe occasion. 

Marjorie was allowed to stay home from school, and in the morning shewent over to the hall to take her contributions and to help MissMerington arrange the booth. 

Uncle Steve had responded nobly to Marjorie's letter asking him to sendher some M things. A box came to her by express, and in it were someIndian beaded moccasins that were unique and beautiful. Then there wereseveral pocket mirrors and hand mirrors; half a dozen mousetraps; apackage of matches; some funny masks, and a plaster cast of "Mercury. "

There was also a large wicker thing shaped like the arc of a circle. Atfirst Marjorie didn't know the name of this, though she had seen themused to protect carriage wheels. 

"Why, it's a mudguard!" cried Mr. Maynard. "How clever of old Steve!"

Also in the box were some mufflers, which Grandma Sherwood had made byneatly hemming large squares of silk. 

Mr. Maynard had brought Marjorie some inexpensive pieces of jewelry, which, he told her, were Florentine mosaics, and so, with all her M's, the little girl had a fine lot of wares to contribute. 

James took them over to the hall for her, and Miss Merington was greatlypleased. 

"You're a worth-while assistant, " said the young lady, as she bustledabout, arranging her pretty booth. 

True to the spirit of the plan, Miss Merington had made her booth ofmauve-colored tissue-paper, and decorated it with morning-glories, alsomade of paper, of delicate violet shades. 

It was one of the prettiest booths in the room, and Marjorie was gladshe belonged to it. 

"Now, Moppet, " said Miss Merington, "what are you going to wear thisafternoon? I have a beautiful mauve costume, but I suppose you haven't. And as I don't want you to be a jarring note, I'm going to ask you notto wear any red or blue. Can't you wear all white?"

"My frock is white, Miss Merington, " said Marjorie; and then she added, laughing, "and it's muslin, so I suppose that's all right. And Motherbought me a mauve sash and hair-ribbon and silk stockings, all to match. And I've white slippers. Will that do?"

"Do! I should think it would. You'll be sweet in mauve and white. Now, I'll tell you your duties. You must just look pleasant and smiling, sothat people will want to come to our booth to buy things. Then when theycome, you may tell them the prices of things if they ask you, but don'task them to buy. I hate people at fairs who insist on everybody's buyingtheir goods. Don't you?"

Marjorie felt quite important at being consulted on this matter, and shehastened to agree with Miss Merington. 

"Yes, " she said. "But you won't have to ask the people to buy; I thinkthey'll want to come here, because this is the prettiest booth in thewhole room. "

"I'm glad you think so. But Miss Frost's booth is lovely. All made ofcotton-wool snow, and tinsel ice. "

"Oh, it's beautiful. My friend Gladys Fulton belongs there, and DaisyFerris, too. I thought you were going to have more assistants, MissMerington. Am I the only one?"

"Yes; to tell you the truth, I didn't know of any other nice little girlwhose name began with M. You don't mind, do you, dear?"

"Oh, no, indeed! I'm glad to be here alone with you. And I'll do all Ican to help. "

"I'm sure you will. But now there's nothing more for you to do thismorning, so skip along home and get a good rest; then be back herepromptly at three o'clock this afternoon with all your mauve millineryon. "

"I don't wear a hat, Miss Merington!" exclaimed Midge, in dismay. 

"Of course not. I said millinery, meaning your ribbons and finery. Iused the word because it begins with M. Do you know, Marjorie, I fairly_think_ in words beginning with M!"

"Oh, is that it?" said Marjorie, laughing. "Well, good-morningMademoiselle Merington!"

"You're a clever little thing, " said Miss Merington; "and now run alonghome to Mother Maynard's mansion. "

Marjorie laughed at this sally, and started for home. But at MissFrost's booth she found Gladys, and the two walked around the hall, looking at the other booths. They were very interesting, for each ladyin charge had endeavored to get all the novel ideas possible for whichher special initial could be used. 

X, Y, and Z had been declared impossible, but some clever girls hadconcluded it would be a pity to omit them, and said that they wouldcombine the three in one booth. For X, which, they said, alwaysrepresented "an unknown quantity, " they had prepared some expresspackages. These contained merchandise of some sort, and had been sentthrough the express office, in order to give the proper appearance ofexpressed parcels. They were for sale at a price that was fair for theircontents, and people were asked to buy them unopened, thus purchasing"an unknown quantity. " Then there were yeast-cakes for sale; and toyyachts, marked "For Sail"; and yellow things of any kind; and zephyrgarments, such as shawls and sacques and slippers. 

This booth was very attractive, and was draped with yellow cheesecloth, with black X's and Y's and Z's all over it. 

In order to make a variety, the R booth was a restaurant, the L boothserved lemonade, and the C booth, candy and cakes. 

"Isn't it fun?" said Marjorie to Gladys, as at last they startedhomeward. "What are you going to wear, Glad? I don't know of any colorthat begins with F. "

"No, " said Gladys. "Miss Frost says there's nothing but fawn-color, andthat won't do. So we're all to wear white, with lots of _frills_. Andwe're to have feathers on our heads instead of ribbon bows, and we're tocarry feather fans. I wish I was in your booth, Midget. "

"Yes, I wish so, too; but of course we couldn't be in the same. ButFather's coming at six to take us all to supper in the restaurant booth. Perhaps we can get together then. "

"Yes, I hope we can. I'll ask Mother about it. "

The girls parted at Gladys' gate, and Marjorie went on home to luncheon. 

"It's perfectly lovely, Mother!" she cried, as she entered the house. "Inever saw such a beautiful fair. "

"That's good, girlie; and now you must eat your luncheon and then liedown for a little rest before you go this afternoon. "

"Oh, Mother Maynard! Why, I'm not a bit tired. You must think I'm an oldlady. "

Mrs. Maynard smiled at the bright face and dancing eyes, which certainlyshowed no trace of weariness. 

But after luncheon she said: "Now, Midget, you must go to your room, andlie down for half an hour. Close your eyes, and rest even if you do notsleep. "

Midget drew a long sigh, and walked slowly off to obey. She lay down onher own little white bed, but though she managed to close her eyes fornearly half a minute, they then flew wide open. 

"Mother!" she called out. "I can't keep my eyes shut, unless I pin them. Shall I do that?"

"Don't be foolish, Marjorie, " called back Mrs. Maynard, from her ownroom. "Go to sleep. "

"But, Mother, I can't go to sleep. I'm as wide-awake as a--a weasel. Mother, what time are you going to the fair?"

"At four o'clock. Now, be quiet, Marjorie, and don't ask any morequestions. "

"No'm. But, Mother, mayn't I get up now? I've been here nearly six orseven hours. "

"It isn't six or seven minutes, yet. You must stay there half an hour, so you may as well make your mind up to it. "

"Yes'm; I've made up my mind. But I think this clock has stopped. Ithasn't moved but a teenty, taunty speck in all these hours. What time isit by your clock, Mother?"

"Marjorie! You'll drive me distracted! Will you be still?"

"Yes'm, if you'll let me come in your room. May I, Mother? I'll just liestill on your couch, and I won't speak. I'll just look at you. You knowyou're so pretty, Mother. "

Mrs. Maynard stifled a laugh. 

"Come on, then, " she called. "I simply can't yell like this any longer. "

"I should think not, " said Marjorie, as she appeared in her mother'sdoorway. "My throat's exhausted, too. "

"Now, remember, " said Mrs. Maynard, "you said you'd be quiet in here. Lie down on the couch, and put the afghan over you, and go to sleep. "

"I'll lie down on the couch, --so, " said Marjorie, suiting the action tothe word; "and I'll put the afghan over me, --so; but I can't go tosleep--because I can't. "

"Well, shut your eyes, and try to go to sleep; and, at any rate, stoptalking. "

"Yes'm; I'll try. " Marjorie squeezed her eyes tightly shut, and in amoment she began to talk in a droning voice. "I'm asleep now, Mother, thank you. I'm having a lovely nap. I'm just talking in my sleep, youknow. Nobody can help that, can they?"

"No; but they can't expect to be answered. So, talk in your sleep if youchoose, but keep your eyes shut. "

"Oh, dear, that's the hardest part! Oh, Mother, I've such a good idea!Mayn't I begin to dress while I'm asleep? Just put on my slippers andstockings, you know. It would be such a help toward dressing to havethat done. May I, --Mother? Mother, may I?"

"Marjorie, you are incorrigible! Get up, do, and go for your bath, now. And if you're ready too early, you'll have to sit still and not moveuntil it's time to go. "

"Oh, Mother, what a dear, sweet mother you are!"

With a bound, Marjorie was off of the couch and tumbling into hermother's arms. 

Mrs. Maynard well understood the impatient young nature, and said nomore about a nap. 

But at last the time came for Marjorie to start, and very sweet anddainty she looked in her mauve and white costume. She had never wornthat color before, as it isn't usually considered appropriate for littlegirls, but it proved becoming, and her dancing eyes and rosy cheeksbrightened up an effect otherwise too demure for a twelve-year-oldchild. 

Gladys was waiting at her own gate, and off they went to the hall. 

Of course, the customers hadn't yet arrived, but soon after Marjorie hadtaken her place inside the booth, the people began to flock to thefair. 

Miss Merington looked lovely in a violet crêpe-de-chine gown, which justsuited her exquisite complexion and golden hair. 

She greeted Marjorie as a companion and fellow-worker, and Midgeresolved to do her best to please the lovely lady. Somehow there seemedto be a great deal to do. As the afternoon wore on the M booth had agreat many customers, and Miss Merington was kept so busy that Marjoriehad to be on the alert to assist her. She made change; she answered thecustomers' questions; and sometimes she had to go to the department ofsupplies for wrapping paper, string, and such things. She was veryhappy, for Marjorie dearly loved a bustle of excitement, and the Bazaarwas a gay place. 

After a time old Mr. Abercrombie came to the M booth. Marjorie hadn'tforgotten the day they rode behind his sleigh, and she wondered if hewould buy anything from her. 

He looked at her quizzically through his big glasses, and said:

"Well, well, little girl, and what have you for sale? Old gentlemen likemyself are fond of sweet things, you know. Have you any sweet cakes?"

"Yes, sir, " said Marjorie, and as Miss Merington was occupied with othercustomers she felt justified in trying to make a sale herself. 

"Yes, sir; we have these very nice cocoanut macaroons. "

"Ah, yes; and how do you know they're nice? You must never make astatement unless you're sure. "

"Oh, but I am sure, " said Marjorie, very earnestly. "Ellen, our cook, made them, and she's a very superior cook. I know she is, because mymother says so. And, besides, I know these are good because I've hadsome of them myself. "

"You've proved your case, " said the old gentleman. "But now I'll catchyou! I'll buy your whole stock of macaroons if----"

"If what, sir?" said Marjorie, breathlessly, for his suggestion meant alarge sale, indeed. 

"If you can spell macaroons, " was the unexpected reply. 

"Oh!" Marjorie gave a little gasp of dismay, for she had never had theword in her spelling lessons, and she didn't remember ever seeing it inprint. 

"May I think a minute?" she asked. 

"Yes, " said Mr. Abercrombie, taking out his watch; "but just a minute, no more. "

This embarrassed Marjorie a little, but she was determined to win ifpossible, so she set her wits to work. 

It was confusing, for she was uncertain whether to say double c ordouble r, or whether both those letters were single. Then, like a flash, came to her mind the way her father had taught her to spell _macaroni_. The words _might_ not be alike, but more likely they were, so before theminute had elapsed, she said, bravely:

"M-a-c-a-r-double o-n-s. "

"Good for you!" cried Mr. Abercrombie. "You're a smart little girl, anda good speller. I'll take all the macaroons you have. "

Greatly elated, Marjorie referred the sale to Miss Merington, and thatlady was very much pleased when Mr. Abercrombie gave her a good-sizedbanknote, and declined to take any change. 

"For the good of the cause, " he said, waiving away the proffered change. 

"And now, " their eccentric customer went on, "I've just a little moremoney to spend at this booth, for I've promised one or two otherfriends to buy some of their wares. But, Miss Rosycheeks, I'll tell youwhat I'll do. "

He looked at Marjorie so teasingly that she felt sure he was going toask her to spell something else, and this time she feared she wouldfail. 

"I'll do this, " proceeded Mr. Abercrombie: "I'll buy anything for saleat this booth that our young friend, the paragon speller, can _not_spell!"

Marjorie's eyes sparkled. She wasn't really a "paragon speller, " and shefelt sure there must be something that was beyond her knowledge. But, somehow, all the things seemed to have simple names. Any one could spellmittens and muffs and mats. And though mandolin and marmalade wereharder, yet she conscientiously realized that she could spell thosecorrectly. 

"I don't see anything, " she said, at last, slowly and regretfully. 

"Then I save my money, and you save your reputation as a speller, " saidMr. Abercrombie, jocosely, as he jingled some silver in his pocket. 

"Oh, wait a minute!" cried Marjorie. "There's that handsome clock! MissMerington said it's malachite, and I haven't the least idea how to spellthat!"

"Fairly caught!" said the old gentleman, chuckling at his own defeat. "Isee by your honest eyes that you really don't know how to spellmalachite, and it _is_ a hard word. Now, listen, and I'll teach you. "

Mr. Abercrombie spelled the word, and then said:

"Would you have guessed it was spelled like that?"

"No, sir, " said Midge, truthfully; "I should have thought there was a'k' in it. "

"I almost wish there had been, " said the gentleman, ruefully, "then Ishould not have to buy the most expensive article on your table. However, it will look well on my library mantel, and I shall rejoicewhenever I look at it and remember that you know how to spell it. "

Marjorie smiled at this idea, and the queer customer paid to MissMerington the rather large price that was marked on the handsome clock. 

"Marjorie, you're a trump!" said she, as Mr. Abercrombie walked away. "He's about the only one here rich enough to buy that clock, and I'mglad he took it. This will swell our fund finely. "

When it was supper-time, the Maynards and Fultons all went together tothe restaurant in the R booth. They had a merry time, and Marjorie toldthe story of her "Spelling Lesson, " as she called it. 

"You're a born merchant, Midge, " said King. "You make money by knowinghow to spell--and then you make money by not knowing!"

"But such occasions don't happen often, " said Mr. Maynard. "I thinkyou'd better continue your spelling lessons for a few years yet. Andnow, as it's time for ice-cream, I'll try your friend's plan, Midget. Ifyou can spell _Biscuit Tortoni_, you can have it!"

"Thank you, Father, " said Marjorie, smiling; "but I'd rather havevanilla and chocolate. They're easier to spell, and just as good toeat. "

After supper, the children had to go home. Marjorie looked backreluctantly at the brilliant hall, even more gay since the lights wereburning, but she remembered that she could yet come two more afternoons, so she said no word of regret. 

"But I do hope, " she said to her mother, as she tucked her tired littlegirl into bed that night, "I do hope that when I'm a grown-up younglady I'll be exactly like that lovely, sweet Miss Merington. "

"I'm thankful to say that your grown-up-young-lady days are yet faroff, " responded her mother; "but when that time comes I'll be quitesatisfied to have you the lovely, sweet Miss Maynard. "

CAROLYN WELLS BOOKS

Attractively Bound. Colored Wrappers. 

THE PATTY BOOKS

Patty is a lovable girl whose frank good nature and beauty lend charm toher varied adventures. These stories are packed with excitement andinterest for girls. 

 PATTY FAIRFIELD PATTY AT HOME PATTY IN THE CITY PATTY'S SUMMER DAYS PATTY IN PARIS PATTY'S FRIENDS PATTY'S PLEASURE TRIP PATTY'S SUCCESS PATTY'S MOTOR CAR PATTY'S BUTTERFLY DAYS PATTY'S SOCIAL SEASON PATTY'S SUITORS PATTY'S ROMANCE PATTY'S FORTUNE PATTY BLOSSOM

THE MARJORIE BOOKS

Marjorie is a happy little girl of twelve, up to mischief, but full ofgoodness and sincerity. In her and her friends every girl reader willsee much of her own love of fun, play and adventure. 

 MARJORIE'S VACATION MARJORIE'S BUSY DAYS MARJORIE'S NEW FRIEND MARJORIE IN COMMAND MARJORIE'S MAYTIME MARJORIE AT SEACOTE

THE TWO LITTLE WOMEN SERIES

Introducing Dorinda Fayre--a pretty blonde, sweet, serious, timid and alittle slow, and Dorothy Rose--a sparkling brunette, quick, elf-like, high tempered, full of mischief and always getting into scrapes. 

 TWO LITTLE WOMEN TWO LITTLE WOMEN AND TREASURE HOUSE TWO LITTLE WOMEN ON A HOLIDAY

THE DICK AND DOLLY BOOKS

Dick and Dolly are brother and sister, and their games, their pranks, their joys and sorrows, are told in a manner which makes the stories"really true" to young readers. 

 DICK AND DOLLY DICK AND DOLLY'S ADVENTURES

THE OUTDOOR GIRLS SERIES

By LAURA LEE HOPE

Author of "The Blythe Girls Books. "

Every Volume Complete in Itself. 

These are the adventures of a group of bright, fun-loving, up-to-dategirls who have a common bond in their fondness for outdoor life, camping, travel and adventure. There is excitement and humor in thesestories and girls will find in them the kind of pleasant associationsthat they seek to create among their own friends and chums. 

 THE OUTDOOR GIRLS OF DEEPDALE THE OUTDOOR GIRLS AT RAINBOW LAKE THE OUTDOOR GIRLS IN A MOTOR CAR THE OUTDOOR GIRLS IN A WINTER CAMP THE OUTDOOR GIRLS IN FLORIDA THE OUTDOOR GIRLS AT OCEAN VIEW THE OUTDOOR GIRLS IN ARMY SERVICE THE OUTDOOR GIRLS ON PINE ISLAND THE OUTDOOR GIRLS AT THE HOSTESS HOUSE THE OUTDOOR GIRLS AT BLUFF POINT THE OUTDOOR GIRLS AT WILD ROSE LODGE THE OUTDOOR GIRLS IN THE SADDLE THE OUTDOOR GIRLS AROUND THE CAMPFIRE THE OUTDOOR GIRLS ON CAPE COD THE OUTDOOR GIRLS AT FOAMING FALLS THE OUTDOOR GIRLS ALONG THE COAST THE OUTDOOR GIRLS AT SPRING HILL FARM THE OUTDOOR GIRLS AT NEW MOON RANCH THE OUTDOOR GIRLS ON A HIKE THE OUTDOOR GIRLS ON A CANOE TRIP THE OUTDOOR GIRLS AT CEDAR RIDGE THE OUTDOOR GIRLS IN THE AIR

THE BLYTHE GIRLS BOOKS

By LAURA LEE HOPE

Author of The Outdoor Girls Series

Illustrated by Thelma Gooch

The Blythe Girls, three in number, were left alone in New York City. Helen, who went in for art and music, kept the little flat uptown, whileMargy, just out of business school, obtained a position as secretary andRose, plain-spoken and business like, took what she called a "job" in adepartment store. The experiences of these girls make fascinatingreading--life in the great metropolis is thrilling and full of strangeadventures and surprises. 

 THE BLYTHE GIRLS: HELEN, MARGY AND ROSE THE BLYTHE GIRLS: MARGY'S QUEER INHERITANCE THE BLYTHE GIRLS: ROSE'S GREAT PROBLEM THE BLYTHE GIRLS: HELEN'S STRANGE BOARDER THE BLYTHE GIRLS: THREE ON A VACATION THE BLYTHE GIRLS: MARGY'S SECRET MISSION THE BLYTHE GIRLS: ROSE'S ODD DISCOVERY THE BLYTHE GIRLS: THE DISAPPEARANCE OF HELEN THE BLYTHE GIRLS: SNOWBOUND IN CAMP THE BLYTHE GIRLS: MARGY'S MYSTERIOUS VISITOR THE BLYTHE GIRLS: ROSE'S HIDDEN TALENT THE BLYTHE GIRLS: HELEN'S WONDERFUL MISTAKE

THE LILIAN GARIS BOOKS

Illustrated. Every Volume Complete in Itself. 

Among her "fan" letters Lilian Garis receives some flatteringtestimonials of her girl readers' interest in her stories. From a classof thirty comes a vote of twenty-five naming her as their favoriteauthor. Perhaps it is the element of live mystery that Mrs. Garis alwaysbuilds her stories upon, or perhaps it is because the girls easily cantranslate her own sincere interest in themselves from the stories. Atany rate her books prosper through the changing conditions of thesetimes, giving pleasure, satisfaction, and, incidentally, that tactfulword of inspiration, so important in literature for young girls. Mrs. Garis prefers to call her books "juvenile novels" and in them romance isnever lacking. 

 JUDY JORDAN JUDY JORDAN'S DISCOVERY SALLY FOR SHORT SALLY FOUND OUT A GIRL CALLED TED TED AND TONY, TWO GIRLS OF TODAY CLEO'S MISTY RAINBOW CLEO'S CONQUEST BARBARA HALE BARBARA HALE'S MYSTERY FRIEND NANCY BRANDON NANCY BRANDON'S MYSTERY CONNIE LORING CONNIE LORING'S GYPSY FRIEND JOAN: JUST GIRL JOAN'S GARDEN OF ADVENTURE GLORIA: A GIRL AND HER DAD GLORIA AT BOARDING SCHOOL

THE NANCY DREW MYSTERY STORIES

By CAROLYN KEENE

Illustrated. Every Volume Complete in Itself. 

Here is a thrilling series of mystery stories for girls. Nancy Drew, ingenious, alert, is the daughter of a famous criminal lawyer and sheherself is deeply interested in his mystery cases. Her interest involvesher often in some very dangerous and exciting situations. 

THE SECRET OF THE OLD CLOCK

Nancy, unaided, seeks to locate a missing will and finds herself in themidst of adventure. 

THE HIDDEN STAIRCASE

Mysterious happenings in an old stone mansion lead to an investigationby Nancy. 

THE BUNGALOW MYSTERY

Nancy has some perilous experiences around a deserted bungalow. 

THE MYSTERY AT LILAC INN

Quick thinking and quick action were needed for Nancy to extricateherself from a dangerous situation. 

THE SECRET AT SHADOW RANCH

On a vacation in Arizona Nancy uncovers an old mystery and solves it. 

THE SECRET OF RED GATE FARM

Nancy exposes the doings of a secret society on an isolated farm. 

THE CLUE IN THE DIARY

A fascinating and exciting story of a search for a clue to a surprisingmystery. 

NANCY'S MYSTERIOUS LETTER

Nancy receives a letter informing her that she is heir to a fortune. This story tells of her search for another Nancy Drew. 

THE CHILDREN'S HOUR BOOKS

Illustrated in Two Colors. Every Volume Complete in Itself. 

This series of beautifully illustrated books for younger childrenincludes a wide range of child interests--all the way from true tales ofaction to delightful stories of brownies and bunnies and fairies, andsuch famous classics as "A Child's Garden of Verses. "

 BOYS and GIRLS of DISCOVERY DAYS Carolyn Sherwin Bailey BOYS and GIRLS of PIONEER DAYS Carolyn Sherwin Bailey THE CIRCUS BOOK Laura Rountree Smith THE FAIRY BABIES Laura Rountree Smith LITTLE BEAR Laura Rountree Smith BUSY LITTLE BROWNIES N. Moore Banta THE BROWNIES and the GOBLINS N. Banta and A. B. Benson TEN LITTLE BROWNIE MEN N. Banta and A. B. Benson BROWNIES at WORK and PLAY N. Moore Banta THE TALE of BUNNY COTTON-TAIL Laura Rountree Smith THE CIRCUS COTTON-TAILS Laura Rountree Smith THE COTTON-TAILS in TOYLAND Laura Rountree Smith BUNNY BOY and GRIZZLY BEAR Laura Rountree Smith THE CHILDREN of MOTHER GOOSE Julia Darrow Cowles A CHILD'S GARDEN OF VERSES Robert Louis Stevenson AB, THE CAVE MAN William Lewis Nida

THE JUDY BOLTON MYSTERY STORIES

By MARGARET SUTTON

Here is a new series of mystery stories for girls by an author who knowsthe kind of stories every girl wants to read--mystery of the "shivery"sort, adventure that makes the nerves tingle, clever "detecting" and anew lovable heroine, Judy Bolton, whom all girls will take to theirhearts at once. 

THE VANISHING SHADOW

Judy's safety is threatened by a gang of crooks who think she knows toomuch about their latest "deal. " She is constantly pursued by amysterious shadow which vanishes before she can get a glimpse of itsowner. 

THE HAUNTED ATTIC

The Boltons move into a large rambling house reputed to be haunted. Eventhe brave Judy who has looked forward to "spooky" goings on isthoroughly frightened at the strange scrapings and rappings and the eery"crying ghost. "

THE INVISIBLE CHIMES

Through an automobile accident a strange girl is taken into the Boltonhousehold--the whole family becomes attached to her and interested inher story. Judy tracks down many clues before she finally uncovers thereal identity of "Honey. "

SEVEN STRANGE CLUES

Judy gets to the bottom of a mystery that centers around a prize postercontest and a fire in the school building--through seven baffling cluesthat hold the key to the answer. 

THE POLLY SERIES

By DOROTHY WHITEHILL

This lively series for girls is about the adventures of pretty, resourceful Polly Pendleton, a wide awake American girl who goes toboarding school on the Hudson River, several miles above New York. Byher pluck and genial smile she soon makes a name for herself and becomesa leader in girl activities. 

Besides relating Polly's adventures at school these books tell of hersummer vacations and her experiences in many different scenes. Everygirl who loves action and excitement will want to follow Polly on hermany adventures. 

 POLLY'S FIRST YEAR AT BOARDING SCHOOL POLLY'S SUMMER VACATION POLLY'S SENIOR YEAR AT BOARDING SCHOOL POLLY SEES THE WORLD AT WAR POLLY AND LOIS POLLY AND BOB POLLY'S REUNION POLLY'S POLLY POLLY AT PIXIE'S HAUNT POLLY'S HOUSE PARTY POLLY'S POLLY AT BOARDING SCHOOL JOYFUL ADVENTURES OF POLLY

THE JOYCE PAYTON SERIES

By DOROTHY WHITEHILL

Between the covers of these books will be found the kind of people allgirls like to meet in real life. There is Joyce Payton, known as Joy, who has a remarkable knowledge of gypsy customs. She is a universalfavorite among girls. Then, too, there is Pam, Joy's partner inadventure, and Gypsy Joe, the little Romany genius who has a magicalfiddle--and we mustn't forget Gloria, a city bred cousin and spoileddarling who feels like a "cat in a strange garret" with Joy and herfriends. 

 JOY AND GYPSY JOE JOY AND PAM JOY AND HER CHUMS JOY AND PAM AT BROOKSIDE JOY AND PAM A-SAILING

THE ELIZABETH ANN SERIES

By JOSEPHINE LAWRENCE

Elizabeth Ann is a charming girl who has various delightful adventures. You first meet her when she is traveling alone on a train. Her parentshave sailed for Japan, and she is sent to visit her numerous relatives. Of course, she meets many new friends during her travels. With some ofthem she is quite happy, and with others--but that's all in the stories. However, any difficulty she encounters is soon overcome by her cleverbrain, her kindness of heart, and her absolute honesty. 

Each volume in this series holds a complete story in itself. 

 THE ADVENTURES OF ELIZABETH ANN ELIZABETH ANN AT MAPLE SPRING ELIZABETH ANN'S SIX COUSINS ELIZABETH ANN AND DORIS ELIZABETH ANN'S BORROWED GRANDMA ELIZABETH ANN'S SPRING VACATION ELIZABETH ANN AND UNCLE DOCTOR ELIZABETH ANN'S HOUSEBOAT

RUTH DARROW FLYING STORIES

By MILDRED A. WIRT

A rollicking flying series for girls, tense and startling in its unusualturns. Every reader interested in aviation will be thrilled to followthe strange adventures of Ruth Darrow in her racing monoplane, theSilver Moth. Aided by her chum, Jean Harrington, and her loyal friend, Sandy Morland, Ruth takes part in an exciting air race and solves many abaffling mystery. 

 RUTH DARROW IN THE AIR DERBY RUTH DARROW IN THE FIRE PATROL RUTH DARROW IN YUCATAN RUTH DARROW IN THE COAST GUARD

THE CORNER HOUSE GIRLS SERIES

By GRACE BROOKS HILL

These splendid stories of the adventures of four young girls who occupythe old corner house left to them by a rich bachelor uncle will appealto all young girls. They contain all the elements which delight youthfulreaders--action, mystery, humor and excitement. These girls have becomethe best friends of many children throughout the country. 

 THE CORNER HOUSE GIRLS THE CORNER HOUSE GIRLS AT SCHOOL THE CORNER HOUSE GIRLS UNDER CANVAS THE CORNER HOUSE GIRLS IN A PLAY THE CORNER HOUSE GIRLS' ODD FIND THE CORNER HOUSE GIRLS ON A TOUR THE CORNER HOUSE GIRLS GROWING UP THE CORNER HOUSE GIRLS SNOWBOUND THE CORNER HOUSE GIRLS ON A HOUSEBOAT THE CORNER HOUSE GIRLS AMONG THE GYPSIES THE CORNER HOUSE GIRLS ON PALM ISLAND THE CORNER HOUSE GIRLS SOLVE A MYSTERY THE CORNER HOUSE GIRLS FACING THE WORLD

GROSSET & DUNLAP, PUBLISHERS, NEW YORK

+--------------------------------------------------------------+|Transcriber's Note: || ||CHAPTER XIX ||A SPOOL OF YARNS || ||The Princess, named Violetta Evangeline by one character ||(page 265), is referred to by another character as ||Violetta Angeline (page 267) and Violetta Angelina (page 268). |+--------------------------------------------------------------+