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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Marjorie's Busy Days, by Carolyn Wells
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Marjorie's Busy Days
+
+Author: Carolyn Wells
+
+Release Date: November 18, 2007 [EBook #23531]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MARJORIE'S BUSY DAYS ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Ian Deane and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: "SHE FED THE GOLD-FISH, ... SHE TRIED AMUSEMENTS OF
+VARIOUS 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 four
+Maynard children, and they were deciding on their morning's occupation.
+It was a gorgeous day in early September. The air, without being too
+cool, was just crisp enough to make one feel energetic, though indeed
+no special atmospheric conditions were required to make the four
+Maynards feel energetic. That was their normal state, and if they were
+specially gay and lively this morning, it was not because of the brisk,
+breezy day, but because they were reunited after their summer's
+separation.
+
+Though they had many friends among the neighboring children, the
+Maynards were a congenial quartette, and had equally good times playing
+by themselves or with others. Their home occupied a whole block in the
+prettiest residence part of Rockwell, and the big square house sat in
+the 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, but
+outside the place, without permission, they must not go.
+
+There was a playground, a tennis court, and a fountain, but better than
+these they liked the corner full of fruit trees, called "the orchard,"
+and another corner, where grapes grew on trellises, called "the
+vineyard." The barn and its surroundings, too, often proved attractive,
+for the Maynards' idea of playing were by no means confined to quiet or
+decorous games.
+
+The house itself was surrounded by broad verandas, and on the southern
+one of these, in the morning sunshine, the four held conclave.
+
+Kingdon, the eldest, was the only boy, and oftener than not his will was
+law. But this was usually because he had such splendid ideas about games
+and 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 they
+all set to work, or rather, set to play, the games often became very
+elaborate and exciting. "Shipwreck" was always a favorite, because it
+could develop in so many ways. Once they were shipwrecked no rescue was
+possible, unless help appeared from some unexpected quarter. It might be
+a neighbor's child coming to see them, or it might be a servant, or one
+of their own parents, but really rescued they must be by actual
+outsiders. 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 certain
+grassy 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 announced
+that 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 and
+who accompanied the baby on all expeditions.
+
+The swing, to-day, was an ocean steamer.
+
+"Have your tickets ready!" called out Kingdon, as his passengers swarmed
+up the gangplank, which he had thoughtfully laid from the ground to the
+low step of the swing.
+
+Soon they were all on board, the gangplank drawn in, and the ship
+started.
+
+At first all went smoothly. The swing swayed gently back and forth, and
+the passengers admired the beautiful scenery on either side. The
+Captain had never crossed an ocean, and the nearest he had come to it
+had been a sail up the Hudson and a trip to Coney Island. His local
+color, therefore, was a bit mixed, but his passengers were none the
+wiser, or if they were, they didn't care.
+
+"On the right, we see West Point!" the Captain shouted, pointing to
+their own house. "That's where the soldiers come from. The noble
+soldiers 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 fighting
+to 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 her
+eyes with her hand as she looked across the street.
+
+"That's a--a peak of the Rockies, ma'am. And now we are passing the
+famous statue of 'Liberty Enlightening the World.'"
+
+As the statue to which Kingdon pointed was really Mrs. Maynard, who had
+come 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-believe
+was to keep grave about it.
+
+"Is your daughter ill, madam?" asked Marjorie of Kitty, whose doll hung
+over her arm in a dejected way.
+
+"No, indeed!" cried Kitty, righting poor Arabella. "She is as well as
+anything. Only she's a little afraid of the ocean. It seems to be
+getting rougher."
+
+It did seem so. The swing was not only going more rapidly, but was
+joggling from side to side.
+
+"Don't be alarmed, ladies," said the gallant Captain; "there's no
+danger, I assure you."
+
+"I'm not afraid of the sea," said Marjorie, "as much as I am of that
+fearful wild bear. Will he bite?"
+
+"No," said Kingdon, looking at Rosy Posy. "That's his trainer who is
+holding him. He's a wonderful man with wild beasts. He's--he's Buffalo
+Bill. Speak up, Rosy Posy; you're Buffalo Bill, and that's a bear
+you'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 protecting
+Arabella with one arm.
+
+"Ess! He bites awful!" Rosy Posy's eyes opened wide as she exploited her
+Bear's ferocity, and Boffin made mad dashes at Arabella, who duly
+shrieked with fear.
+
+But now the ship began to pitch and toss fearfully. The Captain stood up
+in his excitement, but that only seemed to make the motion worse.
+
+"Is there danger?" cried Marjorie, in tragic tones, as she gripped the
+belt of King's Norfolk jacket. "Give me this life-preserver; I don't see
+any other."
+
+"They are under the seats!" shouted the Captain, who was now greatly
+excited. "I cannot deceive you! We are in great danger! We may strike a
+rock any minute! Put on life-preservers, all of you. They are under the
+seats."
+
+The other three scrambled for imaginary life-preservers, and vigorously
+put 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 be
+drowned. We are lost! Launch the boats!"
+
+This was a signal for shrieks and wails from the others, and in a minute
+it was pandemonium. The four screamed and groaned, the swing shook
+violently, and then came almost to a standstill.
+
+Kingdon fell out with a bounce and lay prone on the ground. Marjorie
+sprang out, and as she reached the ground, struck out like a swimmer in
+the water.
+
+Kitty daintily stepped out, remarking: "This is a fine life-preserver. I
+can 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 along
+the soft, green grass, he grabbed the bear and waved him aloft.
+
+"What can we do!" stammered Marjorie, panting for breath. "I've swum
+till I'm exhausted. Must I drown!" With a wail, she turned on her eyes
+on the grass, and closing her eyes, prepared to sink beneath the waves.
+
+"Do not despair," urged Kingdon, as he grasped her arm. "Perhaps we can
+find a plank or a raft. Or perhaps we can yet swim ashore."
+
+"How many survivors are we?" asked Marjorie, sitting up in the water and
+looking about.
+
+"Four," responded Kitty; "but I won't swim. It makes my dress all
+greeny, and stubs my shoes out."
+
+Kitty was the only Maynard who was finicky about her clothes. It called
+forth much derision from her elder brother and sister, but she stood
+firm. She would play their plays, until it came to "swimming" across
+grass and earth, and there she rebelled.
+
+"All right," said Kingdon, good-naturedly, "you needn't. There's a
+raft," pointing to what had been the gangplank. "Cannot you and your
+infant daughter manage to get ashore on that? This other lady is an
+expert 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 objections
+to swimming on land, and throwing her fat self down flat, kicked
+vigorously, and assisted Boffin to swim by her side.
+
+Kitty and Arabella arranged themselves on the raft, which Kitty
+propelled by a series of hitches. The shipwrecked sufferers thus made
+their way toward the desert island. There were several narrow escapes
+from drowning, but they generously assisted each other, and once when
+Kitty fell off her raft, the noble Captain offered to take Arabella on
+his own broad and stalwart back.
+
+Buffalo Bill frequently forgot she was in the tossing ocean, and walked
+upright 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 encouraging
+of one another, they managed to reach the shore of the island.
+Exhausted, Marjorie threw herself on the beach, and the half-drowned
+Captain also dragged himself up on dry land. Kitty skilfully brought her
+raft ashore, and stepped out, exclaiming: "Saved! But to what a fate!"
+
+This was one of their favorite lines, and Marjorie weakly opened her
+eyes to respond:
+
+"Methinks I shall not see to-morrow's sun!"
+
+"Hist!" whispered Kingdon, "say no word, lady. There may be cannibals
+here!"
+
+"Tannibals!" cried Buffalo Bill. "I 'ike Tannibals. Where is zey?"
+
+Somewhat revived, Kingdon began to look round the desert island to see
+what its nature might be.
+
+"We have escaped one terrible death!" he declared, "only to meet
+another. We must starve! This is a desert island exactly in the middle
+of the Pacific Ocean. No steamers pass here; no sailing vessels or
+ferryboats or,--or anything!"
+
+"Oh! What shall we do?" moaned Kitty, clasping her hands in despair. "My
+precious 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 of
+this party, we will go all over the island and see what may be found in
+the 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 dripping
+garments and mend them."
+
+"Yes," said Kitty, "with needles and thread out of my bag. I brought a
+big 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 time
+with 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 or
+dangers 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 tiny
+skirt, which she held gathered up before her, were three eggs and a
+cracker.
+
+The eggs were hard-boiled, and were promptly appropriated by the three
+elder victims of the shipwreck, while the cracker fell to the share of
+Buffalo Bill, who was not yet of an age to eat hard-boiled eggs.
+
+"I, too, will make search!" cried Marjorie. "Methinks there may yet be
+food which you overlooked."
+
+As Marjorie had brought the food to the desert island only an hour
+before, it was not impossible that she might find some more, so they let
+her go to make search. She returned with a paper bag of crackers and
+another of pears.
+
+"These are bread fruit," she announced, showing the crackers; "and these
+are wild pears. This is indeed a fruitful island, and we're lucky to be
+wrecked on such a good one."
+
+"Lucky, indeed!" agreed the Captain. "Why, when I discovered those eggs
+on a rocky ledge, I knew at once they were gulls' eggs."
+
+"And how fortunate that they're boiled," said Kitty. "I can't bear raw
+eggs."
+
+The shipwrecked sufferers then spread out their food, and sat down to a
+pleasant meal, for the Maynard children had convenient appetites, and
+could 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 just
+extracted 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 a
+lollunge."
+
+"So you shall, Baby. Brother'll fix one for you."
+
+And the shipwrecked Captain carefully prepared an orange, and gave it
+bit by bit into the eager, rosy fingers.
+
+"Of all things in the world," said Kitty, "I like chocolate creams
+best."
+
+"Oh, so do I, if I'm not hungry!" said Marjorie. "I think I like
+different things at different times."
+
+"Well, it doesn't matter much what you like now," said King, as he gave
+the last section of orange to Rosy Posy, "for everything is all eaten
+up. Where'd you get those eggs, Mops? We never hardly have them except
+on picnics."
+
+"I saw them in the pantry. Ellen had them for a salad or something. So I
+just took them, and told her she could boil some more."
+
+"You're a good one, Mopsy," said her brother, looking at her in evident
+admiration. "The servants never get mad at you. Now if I had hooked
+those 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 a
+distant sound as of fierce wild beasts growling and roaring."
+
+"My child, my child!" shrieked Kitty, snatching up Arabella. "She will
+be torn by dreadful lions and tigers!"
+
+"We must protect ourselves," declared Marjorie. "Captain, can't you
+build a barricade? They always do that in books."
+
+"Ay, ay, ma'am. But also we must hoist a flag, a signal of distress. For
+should 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's
+petticoat 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 began
+to pull off her red ribbon, but Kingdon stopped her.
+
+"No," he said, "that won't do. We're not playing Pirates. It must be a
+white flag. It's for a signal of distress."
+
+Marjorie thought a moment. There really seemed to be no white flag
+available.
+
+"All right!" she cried, in a moment. "I'll give you a piece of my
+petticoat. It's an old one, and the ruffle is torn anyhow."
+
+In a flash, impetuous Marjorie had torn a good-sized bit out of her
+little white petticoat, and the Captain fastened it to a long branch he
+had broken from the maple tree.
+
+This he managed, with the aid of some stones, to fasten in an upright
+position, and then they sat down to watch for a passing sail.
+
+"Buffaro Bill so s'eepy," announced that small person, and, with fat old
+Boffin for a pillow, Rosy Posy calmly dropped off into a morning nap.
+
+But the others suffered various dreadful vicissitudes. They were
+attacked by wild beasts, which, though entirely imaginary, required
+almost as much killing as if they had been real.
+
+Kitty shot or lassoed a great many, but she declined to engage in the
+hand-to-hand encounters with tigers and wolves, such as Marjorie and
+Kingdon undertook, for fear she'd be thrown down on the ground. And,
+indeed, her fears were well founded, for the valiant fighters were often
+thrown by their fierce adversaries, and rolled over and over, only to
+pick themselves up and renew the fray.
+
+More exciting still was an attack from the natives of the island. They
+were horrible savages, with tomahawks, and they approached with
+blood-curdling yells.
+
+Needless to say that, after a fearful battle, the natives were all slain
+or put to rout, and the conquerors, exhausted but triumphant, sat round
+their camp-fire and boasted of their valorous deeds.
+
+As noontime drew near, the settlers on the island began to grow hungry
+again, and, strange to say, the imaginary birds they shot and ate were
+not 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 boundless
+ocean, unless in a rescuing ship.
+
+For a long time they waited. They waved their white flag, and they even
+shouted for help.
+
+But the "island" was at some distance from the house or street and none
+came to rescue them.
+
+At last, they saw a huge, white-covered wagon slowly moving along the
+back drive.
+
+"A sail! A sail!" cried the Captain. "What, ho! Help! Help!"
+
+The other shipwrecked ones joined the cry, and soon the wagon drew a
+little nearer, and then stopped.
+
+"Help! Help!" cried the children in chorus.
+
+It was the butcher's wagon, and they knew it well, but this season
+there was a new driver who didn't know the Maynard children.
+
+"What's the matther?" he cried, jumping from his seat, and running
+across the grass to the quartette.
+
+"We're shipwrecked!" cried Marjorie. "We can't get home. Oh, save us
+from a cruel fate! Carry us back to our far-away fireside!"
+
+"Help!" cried Kitty, faintly. "My child is ill, and I can no longer
+survive!"
+
+Dramatic Kitty sank in a heap on the ground, and the butcher's boy was
+more bewildered than ever.
+
+"Save me!" cried Rosy Posy, toddling straight to him, and putting up her
+arms. "Save Buffaro Bill first,--me an' Boffin."
+
+This was more intelligible, and the butcher's boy picked up the smiling
+child, and with a few long strides reached his cart, and deposited her
+therein.
+
+"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. "Whativer
+is the matther wid these childher? Is it pizened ye are?"
+
+"No, only starving," said Marjorie, but her faint voice was belied by
+the merry twinkle in her eyes, which she couldn't suppress at the sight
+of 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 us
+aboard?"
+
+"Shure, sir," said the other, his face aglow with Irish wit and
+intelligence. "I persave yer manin'. 'Deed I will resky ye, but how will
+ye get through the deep wathers to me ship forninst?"
+
+"You wade over, and carry this lady," said King, pointing to Kitty, "and
+the rest of us will swim."
+
+"Thot's a foine plan; come along, miss;" and in a moment Kitty was swung
+up 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 to
+the back door. Here they jumped out, and, after thanking their kind
+rescuer, they scampered into the house.
+
+"Such a fun!" said Rosy Posy, as her mother bathed her heated little
+face. "Us was all shipperecked, an' I was Buffaro Bill, an' Boffin was
+my big wild bear!"
+
+"You two are sights!" said Mrs. Maynard; laughing as she looked at the
+muddied, grass-stained, and torn condition of Kingdon and Marjorie. "I'm
+glad you had your play-clothes on, but I don't see why you always have
+to have such rough-and-tumble plays."
+
+"'Cause we're a rough-and-tumble pair, Mothery," said King; "look at
+Kitty there! she kept herself almost spick and span."
+
+"Well, I'm glad I have all sorts of children," said Mrs. Maynard. "Go
+and 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, I
+mean--have lunch in the playroom?" He had sidled up to his mother and
+was 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 along
+now and get civilized."
+
+"Come on, Mops," said Kingdon, in a despairing tone, and, with their
+arms 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 to
+make, that they disliked the restraint that company necessarily put upon
+their 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 me
+questions."
+
+"She's always doing that."
+
+"Yes, I know it. But I promised Mother I'd be extra good to-day, and try
+to 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. "All
+right, Mops, let's be 'specially 'stremely good and treat Miss Larkin
+just lovely."
+
+Nearly an hour later the four shipwrecked unfortunates, now transformed
+into clean, well-dressed civilians, were grouped in the library to await
+Miss Larkin's arrival.
+
+The lady was an old friend of Mrs. Maynard's, and though by no means
+elderly, was yet far from being as young as she tried to look and act.
+
+She came tripping in, and after greeting her hostess effusively, she
+turned to the children.
+
+"My, my!" she said. "What a group of little dears! How you have
+grown,--every one of you. Kingdon, my dear boy, would you like to kiss
+me?"
+
+The request was far from acceptable to King, but the simper that
+accompanied it so repelled him that he almost forgot his determination
+to be very cordial to the unwelcome guest. But Midge gave him a warning
+pinch on his arm, and with an unintelligible murmur of consent, he put
+up his cheek for the lady's salute.
+
+"Oh, what a dear boy!" she gurgled. "I really think I shall have to take
+you home with me! And, now, here's Marjorie. How are you, my dear? Do
+you go to school now? And what are you learning?"
+
+Miss Larkin's questions always irritated Marjorie, but she answered
+politely, and then stepped aside in Kitty's favor.
+
+"Sweet little Katharine," said the visitor. "You are really an angel
+child. 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 always
+angelic. Here's our baby, our Rosamond."
+
+"No, I'se Buffaro Bill!" declared Rosy Posy, assuming a valiant
+attitude, quite out of keeping with her smiling baby face and chubby
+body.
+
+"Oh, what delicious children! Dear Mrs. Maynard, how good of you to let
+me 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 latter
+felt 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 should
+like history. Shouldn't she, now?" she asked, appealing to Kingdon.
+
+"We like history, too," said Kingdon. "At least, we like it some; but we
+both like fairy stories better."
+
+"Ah, well, children will be children. Do you like summer or winter
+best?"
+
+This was a poser. It had never occurred to Marjorie to think which she
+liked best.
+
+"I like them both alike," she said, truthfully.
+
+"Oh, come now; children should have some mind of their own! Little Miss
+Kitty, 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," she
+said at last, with the air of one settling a weighty matter.
+
+But Miss Larkin really cared nothing to know about these things; it was
+only her idea of making herself entertaining to her young audience.
+
+"And you, Baby Rosamond," she went on, "what do you like best in all the
+world?"
+
+"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 high
+estimation of herself was well known.
+
+Although it seemed as if it never would, the luncheon at last came to an
+end.
+
+Mrs. Maynard told the children they might be excused, and she and Miss
+Larkin 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 saucy
+to 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 ate
+anything."
+
+"She didn't," said King. "I suppose she'd rather talk than eat. She's
+not 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 the
+entertainment of his children.
+
+This was a long-established custom, and the children looked forward
+eagerly to what they called an Ourday.
+
+The day chosen was always a Saturday, and usually the first Saturday of
+the month, though this was subject to the convenience of the elders.
+
+The children were allowed to choose in turn what the entertainment
+should be, and if possible their wishes were complied with.
+
+As there had been so much bustle and confusion consequent upon their
+return from the summer vacation, the September "Ourday" did not occur
+until the second Saturday.
+
+It was Marjorie's turn to choose the sport, for, as she had been away at
+Grandma Sherwood's all summer, she had missed three Ourdays.
+
+So one morning, early in the week, the matter was discussed at the
+breakfast table.
+
+"What shall it be, Midget?" asked her father. "A balloon trip, or an
+Arctic expedition?"
+
+Marjorie considered.
+
+"I want something outdoorsy," she said, at last, "and I think I'd like a
+picnic 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 of
+people, or just ourselves?"
+
+It was at the children's pleasure on Ourdays to invite their young
+friends 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 off
+for a ramble in the woods, or a day at the seashore or in the city. He
+often declared that but for this plan he would never feel really
+acquainted with his own children.
+
+"I don't want a lot of people," said Marjorie, decidedly; "but suppose
+we each invite one. That makes a good-sized picnic."
+
+As it was Marjorie's Ourday, her word was law, and the others gladly
+agreed.
+
+"I'll ask Dick Fulton," said Kingdon. "I haven't seen much of him since
+I came home."
+
+"And I'll ask Gladys Fulton, of course," said Midget. As Gladys was her
+most intimate friend in Rockwell, no one was surprised at this.
+
+"I'll ask Dorothy Adams," said Kitty; but Rosy Posy announced: "I won't
+ask nobody but Boffin. He's the nicest person I know, an' him an' me can
+walk 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," said
+Marjorie, 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. Will
+you go, Mrs. Maynard?"
+
+"I will, with pleasure. I adore picnics, and this bids fair to be a
+delightful one. May I assist you in planning the feast?"
+
+"Indeed you may," said Midget, smiling at her mother. "But we can
+choose, 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 sandwiches
+and lemonade as my suggestions, and anything we've omitted, I'm sure
+will get into the baskets somehow."
+
+"Oh, won't it be lovely!" exclaimed Marjorie. "I haven't been on a
+picnic with our own family for so long. We had picnics at Grandma's, but
+nothing 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, so
+take whatever you like. And now I must be off. Little Mother, you'll
+make a list to-day, won't you, of such things as I am to get for this
+frolic?"
+
+"Candy," repeated Rosy Posy; "don't fordet that."
+
+As the baby was not allowed much candy, she always chose it for her
+Ourday treat.
+
+Mr. Maynard went away to his business, and the others remained at the
+breakfast table, talking over the coming pleasure.
+
+"We'll have a great time!" said Kingdon. "We'll make father play Indians
+and 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. But
+you 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 of
+Mediaevals."
+
+"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, and
+Gladys lived only across the street.
+
+"It's so nice to have you back again, Mopsy," said Gladys, after the
+invitation had been given and accepted. "I was awful lonesome for you
+all summer."
+
+"I missed you, too; but I did have a lovely time. Oh, Gladys, I wish you
+could see my tree-house at Grandma's! Breezy Inn, its name is, and we
+had _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 my
+practising every day, and, oh dear, week after next school will begin. I
+just 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 at
+a 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. She
+was 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 had
+the same love of fun and mischief, and more than once the two girls had
+been separated in the schoolroom because of the pranks they concocted
+when together.
+
+Miss Lawrence, their teacher, was a gentle and long-suffering lady, and
+she loved both little girls, but she was sometimes at her wits' end to
+know how to tame their rollicking spirits.
+
+Gladys was as pleased as Marjorie at the prospect of the picnic. Often
+the Maynard children had their Ourdays without inviting other guests,
+but when outsiders were invited they always remembered the happy
+occasions.
+
+All through the week preparations went on, and on Friday Ellen, the
+cook, gave up most of the day to the making of cakes and tarts and
+jellies. The next morning she was to get up early to fry the chicken and
+prepare the devilled eggs.
+
+Mr. Maynard brought home candies and fruit from the city, and a huge can
+of ice-cream was ordered from the caterer.
+
+The start was to be made at nine o'clock Saturday morning, for it was a
+long drive, and everybody wanted a long day in the woods.
+
+Friday evening was fair, with a beautiful sunset, and everything boded
+well for beautiful weather the next day.
+
+Rosy Posy, after her bread-and-milk supper, went happily off to bed, and
+dropped to sleep while telling her beloved Boffin of the fun to come.
+The other children dined with their parents, and the conversation was
+exclusively on the one great subject.
+
+"I don't think it _could_ rain; do you, Father?" said Kitty, looking
+over her shoulder, at the fading sunset tints.
+
+"I think it _could_, my dear, but I don't think it will. All signs point
+to fair weather, and I truly believe we'll have a perfect Ourday and a
+jolly good time."
+
+"We always do," said Midge, happily. "I wonder why all fathers don't
+have Ourdays with their children. Gladys' father never gets home till
+seven o'clock, and she has to go to bed at eight, so she hardly sees him
+at all, except Sundays, and of course they can't play on Sundays."
+
+"They must meet as strangers," said Mr. Maynard. "I think our plan is
+better. I like to feel chummy with my own family, and the only way to do
+it is to keep acquainted with each other. I wish I could have a whole
+day 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 a
+holiday every week. But perhaps some day I can manage it. Are you taking
+a hammock to-morrow, King?"
+
+"Yes, sir. I thought Mother might like an afternoon nap, and Rosy Posy
+always goes to sleep in the morning."
+
+"Thoughtful boy. Take plenty of rope, but you needn't bother to take
+trees 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. Your
+young friends are going?"
+
+"Yes," said Marjorie. "King and I asked the two Fultons, and Kitty asked
+Dorothy Adams. With all of us, and Nurse Nannie, that makes just ten."
+
+"And the driver of the wagon makes eleven," said Mr. Maynard. "I suppose
+we'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 up
+bright and early for the picnic.
+
+Their play-clothes, which were invariably of blue and white striped
+seersucker, were laid out in readiness, and they fell asleep wishing it
+were already morning.
+
+But when the morning did come!
+
+Marjorie wakened first, and before she opened her eyes she heard an
+ominous 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 speedy
+clearing. The sky was dark, leaden gray, and the rain came down in what
+seemed 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 Midget
+tiptoed 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 was
+anything but smiling.
+
+For answer, Midget pointed out of the window, toward which Kitty turned
+for 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 so
+overwhelmed with disappointment that they could only look at each other
+with despondent faces.
+
+Silently they began to draw on their stockings and shoes, and though
+determined they wouldn't do anything so babyish as to cry, yet it was no
+easy matter to keep the tears back.
+
+"Up yet, chickabiddies?" called Mr. Maynard's cheery voice through the
+closed door.
+
+"Yes, sir," responded two doleful voices.
+
+"Then skip along downstairs as soon as you're ready; it's a lovely day
+for our picnic."
+
+Midge and Kitty looked at each other. This seemed a heartless jest
+indeed! And it wasn't a bit like their father to tease them when they
+were in trouble. And real trouble this surely was!
+
+They heard Mr. Maynard tap at King's door, and call out some gay
+greeting to him, and then they heard King splashing about, as if making
+his toilet in a great hurry. All this spurred the girls to dress more
+quickly, and it was not long before they were tying each other's
+hair-ribbons and buttoning each other's frocks.
+
+Then they fairly ran downstairs, and, seeing Mr. Maynard standing by the
+dining-room window, they both threw themselves into his arms, crying
+out, "Oh, Father, isn't it _too_ bad?"
+
+"What?" asked Mr. Maynard, quizzically.
+
+"Now, Daddy," said Midget, "don't tease. Our hearts are all broken
+because 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. "Nobody
+but ducks can have a picnic to-day."
+
+"Oh, well," said Mr. Maynard, looking crestfallen, "if King says so that
+settles it. _I_ think it's a beautiful picnic day, but far be it from me
+to 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 very
+seriously, yet it did seem as if Mother might have been more
+sympathetic.
+
+"I suppose we can eat the ice-cream in the house," said Marjorie, who
+was 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 suppose
+there'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 way
+of cheering us all up?"
+
+"I can't see much fun in a day like this. But I hope we can have the
+picnic 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 foolishly
+optimistic old father."
+
+The children half-heartedly took their places, but seemed to have no
+thought of eating breakfast.
+
+"Wowly-wow-wow!" said Mr. Maynard, looking around the table. "_What_ a
+set of blue faces! Would it brighten you up any if I should prophesy
+that at dinner-time to-night you will all say it has been the best
+Ourday we've ever had, and that you're glad it rained?"
+
+"Oh, Father!" said Marjorie, in a tone of wondering reproach, while
+Kitty and King looked blankly incredulous, and Mrs. Maynard smiled
+mysteriously.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+AN OURDAY
+
+
+It was impossible to resist the infection of Mr. Maynard's gay
+good-nature, and by the time breakfast was over, the children were in
+their usual merry mood. Though an occasional glance out of the window
+brought a shadow to one face or another, it was quickly dispelled by the
+laughter and gaiety within.
+
+Marjorie was perhaps the most disappointed of them all, for it was her
+day, and she had set her heart on the picnic in the woods. But she tried
+to make the best of it, remembering that, after all, father would be at
+home all day, and that was a treat of itself.
+
+After breakfast, Mr. Maynard led the way to the living-room, followed by
+his half-hopeful brood. They all felt that something would be done to
+make up for their lost pleasure, but it didn't seem as if it could be
+anything very nice.
+
+Mr. Maynard looked out of the front window in silence for a moment, then
+suddenly he turned and faced the children.
+
+"Ladies and gentlemen," he said; "do any of you know the story of
+Mahomet and the mountain?"
+
+"No, sir," was the answer of every one, and Marjorie's spirits sank. She
+liked to hear her father tell stories sometimes, but it was a tame
+entertainment to take the place of a picnic, and Mahomet didn't sound
+like 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 others
+followed her example. Rosy Posy, hugging Boffin, scrambled up into a big
+armchair, and settled herself to listen.
+
+"It is an old story," went on Mr. Maynard, "and the point of it is that
+if the mountain wouldn't come to Mahomet, Mahomet must needs go to the
+mountain. But to-day I propose to reverse the story, and since you four
+sad, forlorn-looking Mahomets can't go to the picnic, why then, the
+picnic must come to you. And here it is!"
+
+As Mr. Maynard spoke--indeed he timed his words purposely--their own
+carriage drove up to the front door, and, flying to the window, Marjorie
+saw some children getting out of it. Though bundled up in raincoats and
+caps, she soon recognized Gladys and Dick Fulton and Dorothy Adams.
+
+In a moment they all met in the hall, and the laughter and shouting
+effectually banished the last trace of disappointment from the young
+Maynards' faces.
+
+"Did you come for the picnic?" said Marjorie to Gladys, in amazement.
+
+"Yes; your father telephoned early this morning,--before breakfast,--and
+he said the picnic would be in the house instead of in the woods. And he
+sent the carriage for us all."
+
+"Great! Isn't it?" said Dick Fulton, as he helped his sister off with
+her mackintosh. "I thought there'd be no picnic, but here we are."
+
+"Here we are, indeed!" said Mr. Maynard, who was helping Dorothy Adams
+unwind 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 dear
+friend, Dorothy. "Are you to stay all day?"
+
+"Yes, until six o'clock. Mr. Maynard says picnics always last until
+sundown."
+
+Back they all trooped to the big living-room, which presented a cheerful
+aspect indeed. The rainy morning being chilly, an open fire in the ample
+fireplace threw out a cheerful blaze and warmth. Mrs. Maynard's pleasant
+face smiled brightly, as she welcomed each little guest, and afterward
+she excused herself, saying she had some household matters to attend to
+and that Mr. Maynard would take charge of the "picnic."
+
+"First of all," said the host, as the children turned expectant faces
+toward him, "nobody is to say, 'What a pity it rained!' or anything like
+that. Indeed, you are not to look out at the storm at all, unless you
+say, 'How fortunate we are under cover!' or words to that effect."
+
+"All right, sir," said Dick Fulton, "I agree. And I think a picnic in
+the house will be dead loads of fun."
+
+"That's the way to talk," said Mr. Maynard, "and now the picnic will
+begin. The first part of it will be a nutting-party."
+
+"Oho!" laughed Marjorie. "A nutting-party in the house is 'most too
+much! 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 have
+fallen. Now nuts have fallen all over this house, in every room, and all
+you have to do is to gather them. Each may have a basket, and see who
+can 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 to
+each 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 out
+there to bother cook. She has all she can attend to."
+
+This sounded pleasant, so Marjorie went on, only pausing for one more
+question.
+
+"What kind of nuts, Father?"
+
+"Gather any kind you see, my child. There was such a strong wind last
+night, I daresay it blew down all sorts."
+
+And truly that seemed to be the case. Shrieks of surprise and delight
+from 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 know
+the names.
+
+The nuts were hidden in all sorts of places. Stuffed down in the
+cushions of chairs and sofas, on mantels and brackets, under rugs and
+footstools, on window sills, on the floor, on the chandeliers, they
+seemed 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 heads
+would ensue, but this was looked upon as part of the fun.
+
+The older children gathered their nuts from the highest places, leaving
+the low places for the little ones to look into.
+
+Rosy Posy found most of those on the floor, behind the lace curtains or
+portieres, as she toddled about with her basket on one arm and Boffin in
+the other.
+
+At last the whole house had been pretty thoroughly ransacked, and the
+nutting-party returned in triumph with loaded baskets.
+
+"Did you look under the sofa pillows on the couch in this room?" said
+Mr. Maynard, gravely, and seven pairs of legs scampered for the couch.
+
+Under its pillows they found three big _cocoanuts_, and Mr. Maynard
+declared that completed the hunt.
+
+Meantime, the big, round table in the middle of the room had been
+cleared of its books and papers, and the children were directed to empty
+their baskets of nuts on the table, taking care that none should roll
+off the edge. The seven basketsful were tumbled out, and a goodly heap
+they made.
+
+Then the seven sat round the table, and to each one was given a tiny
+pair 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 nuts
+from the heap with the tongs. If you jar or jostle another nut than the
+one you're taking away, it is then the next player's turn."
+
+Of course they all knew how to play Jackstraws, so they understood at
+once, 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 tiny
+tongs, 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 slender
+peanuts were easy to nip with the tongs, but the big English walnuts, or
+queer-shaped Madeira nuts were very difficult. Great delicacy of touch
+was necessary, and the children found the new game enthralling.
+
+After her first turn Rosy Posy ran away from the game, and Mr. Maynard
+took her place.
+
+"Oho, Father," laughed Kitty, "I thought you'd get them all, but you're
+no 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 claws
+seem 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 were
+daintily balanced on the other nuts, but at last he joggled one, and it
+was King's turn.
+
+"I believe in going fast," said King, and like a whirlwind he picked off
+four nuts, one after the other. But his last one sent several others
+flying, and so left an easy chance for Gladys, who came next.
+
+"There's a prize for this game," announced Mr. Maynard, after the table
+was 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, of
+course. 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 gladly
+took a prize. A glass of milk went with each of these nuts, and then the
+children 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 its
+programme."
+
+"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 the
+programme."
+
+Then Sarah came, and brought a big tray on which were three
+nutcrackers, some nutpicks, and several bowls and plates.
+
+"Take a cracker, King," said Mr. Maynard, and the boy promptly took the
+biggest nutcracker, ready to do the hardest work.
+
+The girls took nutpicks and bowls, and Mr. Maynard and Dick Fulton took
+the other two nutcrackers, and then work began in earnest. But the work
+was 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. The
+shells were thrown into the fire, and Mr. Maynard directed that the
+seven empty baskets be set aside till later.
+
+"We haven't cracked the cocoanuts yet," said Dick. "They're too big for
+these 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 the
+dining-room.
+
+There the extension-table was spread out full length, and contained a
+lot of things. On big sheets of white paper were piles of sifted sugar.
+Large empty bowls there were, and big spoons, and plates and dishes
+filled 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 too
+late for breakfast."
+
+"It's the rest of the nut game," said Mr. Maynard. "I am Professor
+Nuttall, or Know-it-all; and I'm going to teach you children what I hope
+will 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 came
+to join the game.
+
+Sarah came, too, bringing white aprons for everybody, boys and all, and
+then Nurse Nannie appeared, and marched them off, two by two, to wash
+their 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 and
+method, and everything was arranged with care and regularity.
+
+"The first thing to learn in candy-making," he said, "is neatness; and
+the second, accuracy."
+
+"Why, Father," cried Dorothy, "I didn't know you knew how to make
+candy!"
+
+"I know more than you'd believe, to look at me. And now, if you four
+girls 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 carefully
+separating 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 eggs
+and cups and spoons appeared when needed, almost as if by magic.
+
+Meantime the two boys were working rapidly and carefully, too. They
+grated cocoanut and chocolate; they cut up figs and seeded dates; they
+chopped nuts and raisins; and they received admiring compliments from
+Mrs. Maynard for the satisfactory results of their work.
+
+"Oh, isn't it fun!" exclaimed Marjorie, as she and Gladys were taught to
+mould the creamy, white _fondant_ they had made, into tiny balls. Some
+of 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 drop
+the white ball into the hot black chocolate, and remove it daintily with
+a silver fork, being most careful the while not to leave untidy
+drippings.
+
+Cocoanut balls were made, and nougat, which was cut into cubes, and
+lovely, 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 any
+time 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 on
+plates and tins, "I'd like to eat a hundred!"
+
+"You wouldn't want any luncheon, then," said her father. "And as it's
+now noon, and as our candies are all done, I suggest that you all
+scamper away to some place where soap and water grow wild, and return as
+soon as possible, all tidy and neat for our picnic luncheon."
+
+"Lunch time!" cried Gladys, in surprise. "It can't be! Why, we've only
+been here a little while."
+
+But it was half-past twelve, and for the first time that whole morning
+the children looked out of the windows.
+
+"It's still raining," said King, "and I'm glad of it. We're having more
+fun 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 presented
+themselves in the lower hall. Curls had been brushed, hair-ribbons
+freshly 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 the
+living-room.
+
+As Marjorie entered, she gave a shriek of delight, and turned to rush
+into 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 small
+wonder.
+
+The whole room had _almost_ been turned into a woodland glen.
+
+On the floor were spread some old green muslin curtains that had once
+been used for private theatricals or something.
+
+Round the walls stood all the palms and ferns and plants that belonged
+in other parts of the house, and these were enough to give quite an
+outdoorsy look to the place.
+
+To add to this, great branches of leaves were thrust behind sofas or
+tables. Some leaves were green and some had already turned to autumn
+tints, so it was almost like a real wood.
+
+Chairs and tables had been taken away, and to sit on, the children found
+some big logs of wood, like trunks of fallen trees, and some large, flat
+stones.
+
+James, the coachman, and Thomas, the gardener, had been working at the
+room all the time the children were making candy, and even now they were
+peeping 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 it
+was covered with an old, gray rubber waterproof, it was probably an
+artificial 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 from
+the playroom, and which sang gaily in honor of the occasion.
+
+"Isn't it wonderful?" said Dorothy Adams, a little awed at the
+transformation scene; "how did you do it, Mr. Maynard?"
+
+"I told my children," he replied, "that since they couldn't go to the
+picnic the picnic should come to them, and here it is."
+
+Rosy Posy discovered a pile of hay in a corner, and plumped herself
+down 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 meant
+chiefly the feast thereof.
+
+After the baskets were deposited on the ground near the flat rock, James
+and Thomas went away, and none of the servants remained but Nurse
+Nannie, who would have gone to the picnic in the wood, and who was
+needed 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 their
+contents 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 paper
+napkins in true picnic style. Then while the girls set the viands in
+order, the boys mended the fire in the big fireplace, and put potatoes
+in to roast. Mrs. Maynard had thoughtfully selected small potatoes, and
+so they were soon done, and with butter and pepper and salt they tasted
+exactly as roast potatoes do in the woods, and every one knows there is
+no 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 volunteered
+to go down to the spring for water.
+
+This made great fun, for they all knew he only went to the kitchen, but
+he returned with a pail of "cold spring water," and then Mrs. Maynard
+attended to the mixing of the lemonade.
+
+The feast itself was found to include everything that had been asked for
+beforehand.
+
+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 he
+sat on a log, with a sandwich in one hand and a glass of lemonade in the
+other.
+
+As the ceiling was papered in a design of white and gold, it required
+some 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 lack
+of it."
+
+As it was still pouring steadily, this was very funny, and of course
+they all giggled.
+
+Then King went on.
+
+"The sun is so bright it hurts my eyes. I wish I had a pair of green
+glasses 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?" asked
+Kitty.
+
+"I thought we'd fly kites," said Mr. Maynard, "but there isn't a breath
+of 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 was
+time for the ice-cream.
+
+The freezer was brought right into the picnic ground, and Kingdon and
+Dick were asked to dig the ice-cream out with a big wooden spoon, just
+as they always did at picnics. The heaps of pink and white delight, on
+fresh pasteboard plates, were passed around, and were eaten by those
+surprising children with as much relish as if they hadn't just consumed
+several basketsful of other things.
+
+Then the candies were brought in, but, strange to say, nobody cared much
+for any just then.
+
+So Mrs. Maynard had the seven pretty fancy baskets, that they had
+gathered nuts in, brought back, and each child was allowed to fill a
+basket with the pretty candies.
+
+These were set away until the picnic was over, when they were to be
+taken home as souvenirs.
+
+Luncheon over, Mr. Maynard decreed that the picnickers needn't do the
+cleaning away, as that couldn't be done by merely throwing away things
+as they did in the woods.
+
+So Sarah came in to tidy up the room, and Mr. Maynard seated his whole
+party on the big logs and stones, while he told them stories.
+
+The stories were well worth listening to, and though Rosy Posy fell
+asleep, the others listened breathlessly to the tales which were told in
+a truly dramatic fashion. But after an hour or so of this, Mr. Maynard
+suddenly 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 was
+usually a forbidden game.
+
+As you probably know, it is like Blindman's Buff, only the ones who are
+not blinded may not move.
+
+Marjorie was "It" first, and after being carefully blindfolded by her
+father, she stood still in the middle of the floor and counted ten very
+slowly. While she did this, the others placed themselves behind tables
+or 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 she
+should catch some one. It was hard for the others not to laugh as she
+narrowly escaped touching Kingdon's head above the back of the sofa, and
+almost caught Kitty's foot as it swung from a table. But at last she
+caught her father, who was on the floor covered up with an afghan, and
+so Mr. Maynard was "It" in his turn.
+
+It was a rollicking game, and a very exciting one, and, as often was the
+case, it soon merged into Blindman's Buff. This was even more romping
+and noisy, and soon the picnic sounded like Pandemonium let loose.
+
+"Good!" cried Mr. Maynard, as he looked at the red, laughing faces, and
+moist, tumbled curls. "You look just like a lot of healthy, happy boys
+and girls should look, but that's enough of that. Now, we'll sit down in
+a circle, and play quiet games."
+
+Again the group occupied the logs and stones, ottomans and sofa cushions
+if they preferred, and they played guessing games selected by each in
+turn.
+
+When it was Mr. Maynard's turn, he said he would teach them the game of
+the Popular Picnic. He began by telling them they must each in turn
+repeat 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 all
+round the circle.
+
+Then Mr. Maynard said, gravely: "To-day I have been to the Popular
+Picnic. 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 up
+the game.
+
+"Gay, gregarious, giggling Gladys was there."
+
+Gladys was indeed giggling, but so were all the others. Still they were
+a determined lot, and each time round each one repeated all the sets of
+names, amid the laughing of the others.
+
+"Kind-hearted, Kindergarten Kitty," was an easy one, but when the list
+wound up with "Rollicking Rufflecumtuffle Rosy Posy," the game ended in
+a gale of laughter.
+
+But they remembered many of the funny phrases, and often called each
+other by them afterward.
+
+"Now," said Mr. Maynard, "we'll play something less wearing on the
+intellect. This is called the motor-car game, and you must all sit in a
+row. Kingdon, you're the chauffeur, and when chauffeur is mentioned, you
+must make a 'chuff-chuff' sound like starting the machine. Dick, you're
+the tire, and when tire is said, you must make a fearful report like an
+explosion of a bursting tire. Dorothy, you're the number, and when
+number 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 about
+and wave your arms and hands, and sneeze. Rosy Posy, baby, you're the
+horn. 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 are
+mentioned you must do your part. Then if I say automobile, you must all
+do your parts at once. Ready now: Well, this morning I started out for a
+ride and first thing I knew my tire burst."
+
+A fearful "Plop!" from Dick startled them all, and then the game went
+on.
+
+"I feared I was exceeding the speed-limit [much puffing and whizzing
+from Marjorie], and as I looked back through the dust [great cloud of
+dust represented by Gladys' pantomime] I saw I had run over a man!"
+
+The awful groans and wails from Kitty were so realistic that Mr. Maynard
+himself 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 a
+starting motor quite drowned the speaker's voice--"I hastened on before
+they could even get my number."
+
+"Eight-six-eleven-nine," cried Dorothy, quite forgetting the numbers she
+had 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, and
+the man who was run over groaned fearfully, and tires burst one after
+another, and the horn tooted, until Mr. Maynard was really obliged to
+cry for mercy, and the game was at an end.
+
+The afternoon, too, was nearly at an end, and so quickly had it flown
+that nobody could believe it was almost six o'clock!
+
+But it was, and it was time for the picnic to break up, and for the
+little guests to go home. It had stopped raining, but was still dull and
+wet, so the raincoats were donned again, and, with their beautiful
+baskets of candies wrapped in protecting tissue papers, Gladys and
+Dorothy and Dick clambered into Mr. Maynard's carriage and were driven
+to 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 her
+father's arm. "It's been the very best Ourday ever, and I'm _so_ glad it
+rained!"
+
+"My prophecy has come true!" declared Mr. Maynard, striking a dramatic
+attitude. "Only this morning I prognosticated you'd say that, and
+you----"
+
+"And I didn't see how it could be possible," agreed Marjorie, wagging
+her head, wisely. "I know it. But you made it possible, you beautiful,
+dear, smart, clever, sweet father, you, and I've had just the elegantest
+time!"
+
+"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 you
+kiddies were awake this morning."
+
+"Dear Daddy," said Marjorie, caressing his hand in both her own, "you
+are _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 Maynards
+started off.
+
+The first day of school was a great occasion, and much preparation had
+been made for it.
+
+Mr. Maynard had brought each of the children a fine new box, well
+stocked with pencils, pens, and things of that sort. Kitty had a new
+slate, 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 to
+enjoy it, and think of the fun you'll have playing with the other girls
+at 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, have
+lunch, and then there's all the afternoon to play."
+
+"Yes, for you," said Marjorie. "But I have to practise a whole hour, and
+that leaves almost no time at all, and there are so many things I want
+to do."
+
+"Now, my little girl," said Mrs. Maynard, very seriously, "you must try
+to conquer that mood. You know you have to go to school, so why not make
+the 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 the
+bright side, even of school."
+
+"I will try, Mother," said Midget, smiling, as she received her good-bye
+kiss, "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 to
+school 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 take
+Boffin."
+
+"Den I won't go!" declared Rosy Posy, decidedly.
+
+The three walked down the path to the gate, and, soon after they reached
+the street, they were joined by several others, also schoolward bound.
+
+Marjorie's spirits rose, as she chatted with the merry young people; and
+as they passed the Fulton house, and Dick and Gladys came out, Marjorie
+was so glad to see her friend that she was at once her own happy, merry
+little self again.
+
+Miss Lawrence's room was one of the pleasantest in the big brick
+building. When Marjorie and Gladys presented themselves at her desk, and
+asked if they might sit together, the teacher hesitated. She wanted to
+grant the request of the little girls, but they had been in her class
+the 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 last
+consented.
+
+"But," she said, "you may sit at the same desk only so long as you
+behave well. If you cut up naughty pranks, I shall separate you for the
+rest of the term."
+
+"We won't!" "We will be good!" cried the two children, and they ran
+happily away to their desk.
+
+Each desk was arranged for two occupants, and both Marjorie and Gladys
+enjoyed putting their things away neatly, and keeping them in good
+order. They never spilled ink, or kept their papers helter-skelter, and
+but for their mischievous ways, would have been model pupils indeed.
+
+"Let's be real good all the term, Gladys," said Midget, who was still
+under the influence of her mother's parting words. "Let's try not to cut
+up tricks, or do anything bad."
+
+"All right, Mopsy. But you mustn't make me laugh in school. It's when
+you 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 a
+mouse, 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" was
+vigorously nibbling it.
+
+"Stop that, Mops! I think you're real mean! That's my new penholder, and
+now you've spoiled it."
+
+"So I have! Honest, Gladys, I didn't think the dents would show so. I
+was 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. She
+didn'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'd
+played mouse in school hours!"
+
+"Keep still," said Gladys, "the bell has rung."
+
+The morning passed pleasantly enough, for there were no lessons on the
+first day of school.
+
+Books were distributed, and class records were made, and lessons given
+out for next day.
+
+Marjorie was delighted with her new geography, which was a larger book
+than the one she had had the year before. Especially was she pleased
+with a large map which was called the "Water Hemisphere." On the
+opposite page was the "Land Hemisphere," and this was a division of the
+globe she had never seen before.
+
+The Water Hemisphere pleased her best, and she at once began to play
+games with it.
+
+Talking was, of course, forbidden, but motioning for Gladys to follow
+her example, she made a tiny paper boat, and then another, and several
+others. These she set afloat on the printed ocean of the Water
+Hemisphere. Gladys, delighted with the fun, quickly made some boats for
+herself, and arranged them on her own geography. Other pupils, seeing
+what was going on, followed the example, and soon nearly all the
+geographies in the room had little paper craft dotting their oceans.
+
+Next, Marjorie made some little men and women to put in the boats. She
+had no scissors, but tore them roughly out of paper which she took from
+her blankbook. Other leaves of this she obligingly passed around, until
+all the boats in the room were supplied with passengers.
+
+Then Marjorie, still in her position of leader, tore out a semblance of
+a fish. It seemed to be a whale or shark, with wide-open jaws.
+
+This awful creature came slowly up from the Antarctic Ocean, toward the
+ships full of people.
+
+Suddenly a boat upset, the passengers fell out, and the whale made a
+dash for them.
+
+This awful catastrophe was repeated in the other oceans, and, needless
+to say, in a moment the whole roomful of children were in peals of
+laughter.
+
+Miss Lawrence looked up from her writing, and saw her class all giggling
+and shaking behind their geographies. Instinctively she glanced toward
+Marjorie, but that innocent damsel had swept all her boats and whales
+into her pocket, and was demurely studying her lessons.
+
+Marjorie did not in the least mean to deceive Miss Lawrence, but when
+the children all laughed, she suddenly realized that she had been out of
+order, and so she quickly stopped her play, and resumed her task.
+
+Observing the open geographies covered with scraps of paper, Miss
+Lawrence felt she must at least inquire into the matter, and, though the
+children did not want to "tell tales," it soon transpired that Marjorie
+Maynard had been ringleader in the game.
+
+"Why did you do it, Marjorie?" asked Miss Lawrence, with a reproachful
+expression on her face. As she had meant no harm, Marjorie felt called
+upon to defend herself.
+
+"Why, Miss Lawrence," she said, rising in her seat, "I didn't think
+everybody would do it, just because I did. And I didn't think much about
+it anyway. I s'pose that's the trouble. I _never_ think! But I never had
+a jography before with such a big ocean map, and it was such a lovely
+place to sail boats, I just made a few. And then I just thought I'd put
+some people in the boats, and then it seemed as if such a big ocean
+ought to have fish in it. So I made a whale,--and I was going to make a
+lot of bluefish and shads and things, but a boat upset, and the whale
+came after the people, and then, first thing I knew, everybody was
+laughing! I didn't mean to do wrong."
+
+Marjorie looked so genuinely distressed that Miss Lawrence hadn't the
+heart 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, but
+you ought to know better than to make paper toys to play with in
+school."
+
+"But it isn't exactly a schoolday, Miss Lawrence."
+
+"No; and for that very reason I shall not punish you this time. But
+remember, after this, that playing games of any sort is out of place in
+the schoolroom."
+
+"Yes, ma'am," said Marjorie, and she sat down, feeling that she had been
+forgiven, and firmly resolved to try harder than ever to be good.
+
+But half-suppressed chuckles now and then, in different parts of the
+schoolroom, proved to the watchful Miss Lawrence that some of the whales
+were still lashing about the paper oceans in quest of upturned boats.
+
+The game so filled Marjorie's thoughts that she asked that Gladys and
+she 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, Miss
+Lawrence?" she asked, as she caressed her teacher's hand.
+
+Miss Lawrence hesitated. "No," she said, at last; "I can't let you stay
+in 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 air
+at 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 her
+face brightened, and she added, "But mayn't we take our jographies out
+on the playground, and play out there?"
+
+There was a rule against taking schoolbooks out of the classrooms, but
+Miss Lawrence so disliked to say 'No' again that she made a special
+dispensation, and said:
+
+"Yes, do take your geographies out with you. But be very careful not to
+soil or tear them."
+
+And so the two girls danced away, and all through the recess hour, boats
+upset and awful sharks swallowed shrieking victims. But, as might have
+been expected, most of the other children came flying back to the
+schoolroom for their geographies, and again Miss Lawrence was in a
+quandary.
+
+"I never saw a child like Marjorie Maynard," she confided to another
+teacher. "She's the dearest little girl, but she gets up such crazy
+schemes, and all the others follow in her footsteps."
+
+So, after recess, Miss Lawrence had to make a rule that books could not
+be 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 Lawrence
+glanced 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 and
+fairly flew for her hat.
+
+"Good-bye, dearie," said Miss Lawrence, as Midge passed her when the
+long line filed out.
+
+"Good-bye!" was the smiling response, and in two minutes more Mopsy was
+skipping and jumping across the playground.
+
+"Hello, King!" she called. "Where's Kitty? Oh, here you are! Now we can
+all go home together. What shall we do this afternoon? I want to do
+something 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, and
+we'll come then."
+
+A little later, and the three Maynards flew in at their own gate, and
+found a warm welcome and a specially good luncheon awaiting them.
+
+"I got along pretty well, Mother," said Marjorie, as they all told their
+morning's experiences. "Only I couldn't help playing paper boats." She
+told the whole story, and Mrs. Maynard smiled as she said:
+
+"Marjorie, you are incorrigible; but I fear you will only learn by
+experience----"
+
+"What is incorrigible?" asked Marjorie.
+
+"It's 'most too big a word for you to understand," said her mother, "but
+it means you must just keep on everlastingly trying to be good."
+
+"I will," said Mops, heartily, and then she turned her attention to the
+chicken 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 in
+vacation time, when all days were playdays.
+
+It was a glorious September day, and as it was an early autumn, many
+leaves had fallen and lay thick upon the ground.
+
+"I know what to do," said Marjorie, as directly after breakfast they put
+on hats and coats for outdoor play of some sort. "Let's make
+leaf-houses."
+
+"All right," said Kingdon, "and let's telephone for the others."
+
+"The others" always meant the two Fultons and Kitty's friend, Dorothy
+Adams.
+
+Rosy Posy was too little to have a special chum, so Boffin was her
+companion.
+
+Leaf-houses was a favorite game with all of them, and soon the three
+guests came skipping through the gate.
+
+The leaves had been raked from the lawn, but down in the orchard they
+were on the ground like a thick carpet. The orchard had many maples and
+elms, 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 the
+way, 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 they
+all fell into the leaves, and burrowed about like rabbits.
+
+Presently Marjorie's head emerged like a bright-eyed turtle poking out
+from 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 can
+build things."
+
+They all set to work with a will, and soon two houses were in process of
+construction.
+
+These houses were, of course, merely a ground plan, and long, low piles
+of leaves divided the rooms. Openings in these partitions made doors,
+and the furniture was also formed of heaps of leaves. A long heap was a
+sofa, and a smaller heap a chair, while a round, flat heap was a table.
+
+King, Gladys, and Dorothy were one family, while Dick, Marjorie, and
+Kitty were the other.
+
+Rosy Posy was supposed to be an orphan child, who lived with one family
+or 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, as
+occasion required.
+
+To-day the spirit of adventure was strong in Marjorie, and she decreed
+they 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 you
+catch 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 and
+out of either house.
+
+When the Kingdon family were _very_ sound asleep, the Dick family crept
+softly in through the open doors, and endeavored to steal certain
+valuable silver from the sideboard. This silver was admirably
+represented by chips and sticks.
+
+Dick and Marjorie had secured their booty and were carefully sneaking
+away when King awoke, and with a howl pounced upon Kitty, who was still
+industriously stealing silver.
+
+This, of course, was part of the game, and Dick and Midget wrung their
+hands in despair as they saw their daughter forcibly detained by the
+master of the house.
+
+Then Gladys and Dorothy were awakened by the noise, and added their
+frightened screams to the general hullaballoo.
+
+Kitty was bound hand and foot in the very dining-room where the silver
+had been, and King went valiantly out to hunt the other marauders. Then
+the game was for King and his family to try to catch Dick and Midget, or
+for Kitty's parents to release her from her bondage.
+
+At last, as King and Gladys were both engaged in chasing Dick, Marjorie
+found an opportunity to free Kitty, and then the game began again, the
+other 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 his
+father, 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 outlined
+in 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. I
+mean children's clubs--not big ones like father's."
+
+"What do clubs do?" asked Dorothy, who had a wholesome fear of some of
+the Maynards' escapades.
+
+"Why, we can do anything we want to, if we're a club," said Dick. "I
+think it would be fun. What shall we do?"
+
+"Let's cut up jinks," said Marjorie, who was especially energetic that
+day.
+
+"And let's call it the Jinks Club," suggested Gladys.
+
+"Goody! Goody!!" cried Midge. "Just the thing, Glad! And then we can cut
+up 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 good
+jinks and bad jinks. She meant just plain fun, or real mischief. And I
+promised 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 the
+president have all the say?"
+
+"Let's all be presidents," said King. "I know clubs usually have only
+one; but who cares? We'll be different."
+
+"All right," said Marjorie. "And, anyway, we won't need a secretary and
+treasurer and such things, so we'll each be president. I think that will
+be 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 the
+rest 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 and
+things. When shall we meet?"
+
+"Every day after school, and every Saturday," said Marjorie, who was of
+a whole-souled nature.
+
+"Oh, no!" said Gladys. "I know Mother won't let me come as often as
+that."
+
+"Don't let's have special times," said King. "Just whenever we're all
+together, 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 and
+badges and things like that."
+
+"Huh, dues!" said King. "I want to spend my money for other things
+besides 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 enough
+to 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 have
+fifty 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, and
+furthermore it necessitated a treasurer.
+
+"Let's each be treasurer," said King, remembering how well his
+presidential plan had succeeded.
+
+"No," said Midget; "that's silly. I'll be treasurer, and I'll keep all
+the money safely, until we want to use it for something nice."
+
+"Yes, let's do that," said Gladys. "Mopsy's awfully careful about such
+things, and she'll keep the money better than any of us. I haven't mine
+here now; I'll bring it over this afternoon."
+
+"I don't care much about the money part," said King. "I want to cut up
+jinks. When do we begin?"
+
+"Right now!" said Marjorie, jumping up. "The first jink is to bury King
+in leaves!"
+
+The rest caught the idea, and in a moment the luckless Kingdon was on
+his back and held down by Dick, while the girls piled leaves all over
+him. They left his face uncovered, so he could breathe, but they heaped
+leaves over the rest of him, and packed them down firmly, so he couldn't
+move.
+
+When he was thoroughly buried, Marjorie said: "Now we'll hide. Don't
+start to hunt till you count fifty, King."
+
+"One, two, three," began the boy, and the others flew off in all
+directions.
+
+All except Rosy Posy. She remained, and, patting King's cheek with her
+fat little hand, said: "Me'll take care of you, Budder. Don't ky."
+
+"All right, Baby,--thirty-six, thirty-seven, thirty-eight,--take that
+leaf 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 and
+Boffin into the demolished leaf-heap, and played there contentedly.
+
+King hunted for some minutes without finding anybody. Then a voice right
+over his head said, "Oo-ee!"
+
+He looked up quickly, but saw only a tree which had not yet shed its
+foliage, 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 cautiously
+up 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 lower
+branches, keeping sharp watch lest his quarry elude him, and slip down
+the other side.
+
+But once fairly up in the tree, he found the whole five there awaiting
+him, 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 then
+the little guests went home, promising to come back in the afternoon and
+bring 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. "She
+says we may swing, or play in the hammock, or on the lawn, but we can't
+go to the orchard."
+
+"All right," said good-natured Dick; "and, say, I've been thinking over
+our club, and I think we ought to be more like a real club. Why not have
+regular 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, in
+school. 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! You
+want to be president and treasurer and secretary and all. Perhaps you'd
+like to be all the members!"
+
+"Fiddlesticks, King!" said Marjorie; "nobody else seems to want to be
+anything. Now, I'll tell you what, let's have six things to
+be,--officers, you know, and then we'll each be one."
+
+"That's a good way," said Gladys. "You be treasurer, Marjorie, 'cause
+you're so good at arithmetic, and you can take care of our money. Dick
+can be secretary, 'cause he writes so well."
+
+"I will," said Dick, "if King will be president. He's best for
+that,--and then, Gladys, you can be vice-president."
+
+"What can Dorothy and I be?" asked Kitty, who didn't see many offices
+left.
+
+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 collection
+now."
+
+Promptly five dimes were handed to her, and, adding one of her own, she
+put them all into a little knitted silk purse she had brought for the
+purpose.
+
+"Is there any further business to come before this meeting?" asked the
+President, rolling out his words with great dignity, as befitted his
+position.
+
+"No, sir," said Kitty; "I'm the committee to decide things, and I say
+there isn't any more business. So what do we do next?"
+
+"I'll tell you!" cried Midget, in a sudden burst of inspiration; "let's
+go down to Mr. Simmons' and all have ice-cream with our money in the
+treasury. I'll ask Mother if we may."
+
+"But, Mopsy!" cried King, in surprise. "I thought we were to save that
+to go to the circus."
+
+"Oh, pshaw! Father'll take us to the circus. Or we can save next week's
+money for that. But, truly, I feel like cutting up jinks, and we can't
+play 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's
+plan.
+
+Mrs. Maynard listened with amusement to the story, and then said they
+might go if they would behave like little ladies and gentlemen and
+return home inside of an hour.
+
+Off they started, and a more decorous-looking crowd than the Jinks Club
+one 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 were
+in a sort of pavilion that overlooked the water.
+
+The children were welcomed by the good-natured old proprietor, who had
+served his ice-cream to their parents when they were children.
+
+"And what kind will you have?" asked Mr. Simmons, after they were seated
+around a table.
+
+This required thought, but each finally chose a favorite mixture, and
+soon they were enjoying the pink or white pyramids that were brought
+them.
+
+"I do think the Jinks Club is lovely," said Kitty, as she gazed out over
+the water and contentedly ate her ice-cream.
+
+"So do I," said Dorothy, who always agreed with her adored chum, but
+was, moreover, happy on her own account.
+
+"I shall write all this up in the minutes!" declared Dick. "And when
+shall 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 Saturday
+morning.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+SPELLING TROUBLES
+
+
+"What _is_ the matter, Midge?" said her father, "You sigh as if you'd
+lost your last friend."
+
+The family were in the pleasant living-room one evening, just after
+dinner.
+
+All, that is, except Rosy Posy, who had gone to bed long ago. Kingdon
+was reading, and Kitty was idly playing with the kitten, while Marjorie,
+her head bent over a book on the table, was abstractedly moving her lips
+as if talking to herself.
+
+"Oh, Father! it's this horrid old spelling lesson. I just _can't_ learn
+it, and that all there is about it!"
+
+"Can't learn to spell? Bring me your book, and let me have a look at
+it."
+
+Very willingly Marjorie flew to her father's side, and, big girl though
+she was, perched herself on his knee while she showed him the page.
+
+"Just look! There's 'deleble' spelled with an e, and 'indelible' with an
+i! 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 is
+your lesson?"
+
+"All that page. And they're fearfully hard words. And words I'll never
+use 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 education
+to learn to spell them. Come, now, I'll help you, and we'll soon put
+them 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 it
+was a Frenchman named Daguerre who invented the process; then you only
+have 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 double
+letter in it, and then spell it just as it sounds. Why, macaroni is so
+long 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 or
+quibble, made each word of special interest, and so fixed it in
+Marjorie's memory. At the end of a half-hour she was perfect in the
+lesson, 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 class
+and 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. You
+and I will attack Mr. Speller every evening, and see if we can't
+vanquish him."
+
+"I think we can," said Marjorie, her eyes sparkling. "For it's only some
+few of those catchy words that I can't seem to learn. But after you help
+me they all seem easy."
+
+So every night that week Midge and her father had a spelling-class of
+their own, and fine work was accomplished.
+
+The spelling-match was to be on Friday, and Thursday night they were to
+have a grand review of all the lessons. Marjorie brought home her
+schoolbooks on Thursday, and left them in the house while she went out
+to play. But when she came in to get ready for dinner, her mother was
+dressing to go out.
+
+"Where are you going, Mother?" said Marjorie, looking admiringly at her
+mother's pretty gown.
+
+"We're going to Mrs. Martin's to dinner, dearie. She invited us over the
+telephone this morning. There's a very nice dinner prepared for you
+children, and you must have a good time by yourselves, and not be
+lonesome. 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'll
+do. When is this great spelling-match,--to-morrow?"
+
+"Yes, to-morrow afternoon."
+
+"Well, you study by yourself this evening, and learn all you can. Then
+skip to bed a bit earlier than usual, and then hop up early to-morrow
+morning. 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 old
+speller till you can spell the cover right off it."
+
+"All right," said Marjorie. "It's really just as well for me to study
+alone to-night, and then you can help me a lot to-morrow morning. But
+won't it make you too late going to business?"
+
+"No, I'll take a half-hour off for your benefit. If I leave here by
+half-past eight that will do nicely, and that's about the time you want
+to go to school."
+
+So the matter was settled, and Mr. and Mrs. Maynard drove away, leaving
+the three children to dine by themselves. The meal was a merry one, for
+when thus left to themselves the children always "pretended."
+
+"I'm a princess," said Marjorie, as she seated herself in her mother's
+place. "These dishes are all gold, and I'm eating birds of paradise with
+nectarine sauce."
+
+Even as she spoke, Sarah brought her a plate of soup, and Midge
+proceeded to eat it with an exaggerated air of grandeur, which she
+thought befitted a princess.
+
+"I'm not a prince," said Kingdon. "I'm an Indian chief, and I'm eating
+wild 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, so
+I 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 just
+chanced to sit at the same table. May I ask your name, Madam?"
+
+"I'm the Princess Seraphina," said Marjorie, graciously. "My home is in
+the 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 my
+belt, and whoever offends me will add his scalp to my collection!"
+
+"Oh, sir," said Kitty, trembling; "I pray you be not so fierce of
+manner! I am most mortal timid."
+
+Kitty had a fine dramatic sense, and always threw herself into her part
+with her whole soul. The others would sometimes drop back into their
+every-day speech, but Kitty was always consistent in her assumed
+character.
+
+"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 sign
+of warfare."
+
+"Nay, nay, but war may break out apace. Might I enquire your name, fair
+lady?"
+
+"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 poor
+waif, I seek a hiding-place from my tormentors."
+
+"Why do they torment you?"
+
+"'Tis a dark secret; ask me not. But tell of yourself, Princess
+Seraphina. Dost travel alone?"
+
+"Yes; with but my suite of armed retainers. Cavalrymen and infantry
+attend 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 a
+dish of pudding. "This damsel! She is of my own household. Ha! Doth she
+recognize me?"
+
+Although used to the nonsense of the children, Sarah couldn't entirely
+repress 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 of
+this sort of fun.
+
+"I'm going out for a few minutes," said King, as they at last rose from
+the table. "Father said I might go down to Goodwin's to get slides for
+my camera. I won't be gone long."
+
+"All right," said Marjorie, "I'm going to study my spelling. What are
+you going to do, Kit?"
+
+"I'm going up to the playroom. Nannie is going to tell me stories while
+she sews."
+
+So Marjorie was alone in the living-room as she took up her school-bag
+to get her spelling-book from it. To her dismay it was not there! The
+book which she had mistakenly brought for her speller was her mental
+arithmetic; they were much the same size, and she often mistook one for
+the other.
+
+But this time it was a serious matter. The spelling-match was to be the
+next 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 the
+schoolhouse after the missing book. If King had been at home she would
+have consulted him, but she had no one of whom to ask advice.
+
+She remembered what her father had said about getting up early the next
+morning, and she wondered if she couldn't get up even earlier still, and
+go to the schoolhouse for the book before breakfast. She could get the
+key from the janitor, who lived not far from her own home.
+
+It seemed a fairly feasible plan, and, though she would lose her
+evening's study, she determined to go to bed early, and rise at daybreak
+to 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 me
+prowling out at six o'clock to-morrow morning, she'll know what I'm up
+to."
+
+The notion of an early morning adventure was rather attractive, but
+suddenly Marjorie thought that she might not be able to get the key from
+the janitor so early as that.
+
+"Perhaps Mr. Cobb doesn't get up until seven or later, and I can't wait
+till then," she pondered. "I've a good notion to go for that key
+to-night. Then I can go to the schoolhouse as early as I choose in the
+morning without bothering anybody."
+
+She rose and went to the window. It was quite dark, for, though the
+streets were lighted, the lights were far apart, and there was no moon.
+
+Of course, Marjorie never went out alone in the evening, but this was
+such an exceptional occasion, she felt sure her parents would not blame
+her.
+
+"If only King was here to go with me," she thought. But King was off on
+his own errand, and she knew that when he returned he would want to fix
+his camera, and, anyway, it would be too late then.
+
+Mr. Cobb's house was only three blocks away, and she could run down
+there and back in ten minutes.
+
+Deciding quickly that she must do it, Marjorie put on her coat and hat
+and went softly out at the front door. She felt sure that if she told
+Nurse Nannie or Kitty of her errand, they would raise objections, so she
+determined to steal off alone. "And then," she thought, "it will be fun
+to come home and ring the bell, and see Sarah's look of astonishment to
+find me at the door!"
+
+It was a pleasant night, though cool, and Marjorie felt a thrill of
+excitement as she walked down the dark path to the gate, and then along
+the 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 disposed
+woman. "I'll let you take the key, of course. Mr. Cobb, he always keeps
+it hangin' right here handy by. So you're goin' over to the school at
+sun-up! Well, well, you've got spunk, haven't you, now? And don't bother
+to bring 't back. Mr. Cobb, he can stop at your house for it, as he goes
+to 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'clock
+as you think."
+
+"Oh, yes I will, Mrs. Cobb," said Midget. "I'm going to set an alarm
+clock. 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_ important
+lesson, and I _must_ have that book."
+
+"All right, little lady. Run along now and get to bed early. Are you
+afraid? 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 gate
+clicked behind her.
+
+As she reached the first turning toward her own home, she looked off in
+the other direction, where the schoolhouse stood. It was several blocks
+away, and Marjorie was thinking how she would run over there the next
+morning. 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 utter
+darkness, 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 in
+some, anyway. Pooh, I guess I wouldn't be very brave if I was afraid of
+nothing! And just to think of having that book to-night! I can get it
+and be back home in twenty minutes. I believe I'll do it!"
+
+Marjorie hesitated a moment at the corner. Then she turned away from her
+home 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 ten
+minutes 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 determination
+kept her from turning back.
+
+"I won't be a baby, or a 'fraid cat!" she said angrily, to herself. "I'm
+not 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 than
+where Marjorie lived, and she passed several vacant lots. This made it
+seem more lonely, and the far-apart street lights only seemed to make
+darker the spaces between.
+
+But Marjorie trudged on, grasping the key, and roundly scolding herself
+for being timid.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+A REAL ADVENTURE
+
+
+When at last she stood on the stone steps of the schoolhouse, her
+courage returned, and, without hesitation, she thrust the key in the
+lock of the door.
+
+It turned with a harsh, grating sound, and the little girl's heart beat
+rapidly as she pushed open the heavy door. The hall was as black as a
+dungeon, but by groping around she found the banister rail, and so made
+her way upstairs.
+
+Her resolution was undaunted, but the awful silence of the empty, dark
+place struck a chill to her heart. She ran up the stairs, and tried to
+sing in order to break that oppressive silence. But her voice sounded
+queer and trembly, and it made echoes that were worse than no sound at
+all.
+
+She had to go up two flights of stairs, and as she reached the top of
+the second flight she was near her own classroom. As she turned the
+doorknob, the street door, downstairs, which she had left open, suddenly
+slammed shut with a loud bang. The sound reverberated through the
+building, and Midget stood still, shaking with an unconquerable nervous
+dread. She didn't know whether the door blew shut or had been slammed to
+by some person. She no longer pretended to herself that she was not
+frightened, for she was.
+
+"I know I'm silly," she thought, as two big tears rolled down her
+cheeks, "but if I can just get that book, and get out of here, won't I
+run for home!"
+
+Feeling her way, she stumbled into the classroom. A faint light came in
+from the street, but not enough to allow her to distinguish objects
+clearly. Indeed, it cast such wavering, ghostly shadows that the total
+darkness was preferable.
+
+Counting the desks as she went along, she came at last to her own, and
+felt 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 the
+loneliness.
+
+But her trembling fingers let her desk-cover fall with another of those
+resounding, reechoing slams that no one can appreciate who has not heard
+them under similar circumstances.
+
+By this time Marjorie was thoroughly frightened, though she herself
+could not have told what she was afraid of. Grasping the precious
+speller, she started, with but one idea in her mind,--to get downstairs
+and out of that awful building as quickly as possible.
+
+She groped carefully for the newel-post, for going down was more
+dangerous than coming up, and she feared she might fall headlong.
+
+Safely started, however, she almost ran downstairs, and reached the
+ground floor, only to find the front door had a spring-lock, which had
+fastened itself when the door banged shut.
+
+Marjorie's heart sank within her when she realized that she was locked
+in the schoolhouse.
+
+She thought of the key, but she had stupidly left that on the outside of
+the door.
+
+"But anyway," she thought, "I don't believe you have to have a key on
+the inside. You don't to our front door at home. You only have to pull
+back a little brass knob."
+
+The thought of home made a lump come into poor Marjorie's throat, and
+the tears came plentifully as she fumbled vainly about the lock of the
+door.
+
+"Oh, dear," she said to herself, "just s'pose I have to stay here all
+night. I _won't_ go upstairs again. I'll sit on the steps and wait till
+morning."
+
+But at last something gave way, the latch flew up, and Marjorie swung
+the 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 released
+from her prison, and, after making sure that the door was securely
+fastened, she put the key safely in her pocket, and started off toward
+home.
+
+The church clock struck eight just as she reached her own door, and she
+could 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, Miss
+Marjorie, cuttin' up tricks just because the folks is away."
+
+"Hello, Mopsy!" cried Kingdon, jumping downstairs three at a time. "What
+have you been up to now, I'd like to know."
+
+"Nothing much," said Marjorie, gaily. Her spirits had risen since she
+found herself once again in her safe, warm, light home. "Don't bother me
+now, King; I want to study."
+
+"Mother'll study you when she knows that you've been out walking alone
+at 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 tell
+me."
+
+"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 an
+exciting adventure to get it, but Marjorie determinedly set to work, and
+studied diligently till nine o'clock, and then went to bed.
+
+Next morning her father awakened her at an early hour, and a little
+before seven father and daughter were seated at a cozy little
+_tete-a-tete_ breakfast.
+
+At the table Marjorie gave her father a full description of her
+experiences 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 very
+wrong 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 allowed
+out alone at night."
+
+"Yes; but this was such a very unusual occasion, I thought you'd excuse
+it. And, besides King was out at night."
+
+"But he's a boy, and he's two years older than you are, and then he had
+our permission to go."
+
+"That's just it, Father. I felt sure if you had known all about it, you
+would have given me permission. I was going to telephone and ask you if
+I might go to Mr. Cobb's, and then I thought it would interrupt the
+dinner 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 the
+schoolhouse last night."
+
+"How did you come to think of it?"
+
+"Why, I wanted my speller so much, and when I saw the schoolhouse roof
+sticking up above the trees, it made me think I could just as well run
+over there then, and so have my book at once."
+
+"And you had no qualms of conscience that made you feel you were doing
+something wrong?"
+
+"No, Father," said Marjorie, lifting her clear, honest eyes to his. "I
+thought I was cowardly to be so afraid of the dark. But I knew it wasn't
+mischief, 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 is
+not right to go alone to a place where there may be unseen or unknown
+dangers."
+
+"But, Father, in our own schoolhouse? Where we go every day? What harm
+could be there?"
+
+"My child, it is not right for any one to go into an untenanted
+building, alone, in the dark. And especially it is not right for a
+little girl of twelve. Now, whether you understand this or not, you must
+remember 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, and
+then say, 'I didn't know it was wrong.' Marjorie, you don't seem to have
+good common-sense about these things."
+
+"That's what grandma used to say," said Midge, cheerfully. "Perhaps
+I'll learn, as I grow up, Father."
+
+"I hope you will, my dear. And now, I'm not going to punish you for this
+performance, for I see you honestly meant no wrong, but I do positively
+forbid 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 to
+before, 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 her
+quizzically. "But, do you know, I rather like you; and I suppose you get
+your spirit of adventure and daring from me. Your Mother is most timid
+and conventional. What do you s'pose she'll say to all this, Mopsy
+mine?"
+
+"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, of
+course it must have been, and I promise never to do it again. Now, if
+you've finished your coffee, shall we begin to spell?"
+
+"Yes, come on. Since you have the book, we must make the most of our
+time."
+
+An hour of hard work followed. Mr. Maynard drilled Marjorie over and
+over on the most difficult words, and reviewed the back lessons, until
+he said he believed she could spell down Noah Webster himself.
+
+"And you must admit, Father," said Marjorie, as they closed the book at
+last, "that it's a good thing I did get my speller last night, for I had
+a whole hour's study on it, and besides I didn't have to go over there
+for it this morning."
+
+"It would have been a better thing, my child, if you had remembered it
+in the first place."
+
+"Oh, yes, of course. But that was a mistake. I suppose everybody makes
+mistakes sometimes."
+
+"I suppose they do. The proper thing is to learn by our mistakes what is
+right and what is wrong. Now the next time you are moved to do anything
+as unusual as that, ask some one who knows, whether you'd better do it
+or 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 to
+think that she had been in danger rather than in mischief.
+
+"Oh," went on Mrs. Maynard, still shuddering, "my precious child, alone
+in 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 have
+you 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 you
+alone again. I felt all the time I oughtn't to go off and leave you
+children last night."
+
+"Nonsense, my dear," said Mr. Maynard, "the children must be taught
+self-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 to
+me, my child. I don't want you to tell any one of what you did last
+evening. It is something that it is better to keep quiet about. Do you
+understand? This is a positive command. Don't ask me why, just promise
+to say nothing about it to your playmates or any one. No one knows of it
+at present, but your mother, Kingdon, and myself. I prefer that no one
+else 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 _no
+one_! 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 and
+ran away to school.
+
+Kingdon had also been bidden not to tell of Marjorie's escapade, and so
+it 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 and
+anxious 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 everybody
+loved her, yet her inability to spell was known by all, and she was not
+a desirable assistant in a match.
+
+But at last her name was called, and she demurely took her place near
+the foot of the line on one side.
+
+Gladys was on the other side, near the head. She was a good speller, and
+rarely made a mistake.
+
+Miss Lawrence began to give out the words, and the children spelled away
+blithely. Now and then one would miss and another would go above.
+
+To everybody's surprise, Marjorie began to work her way up toward the
+head 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 word
+must go to his seat, leaving only those standing who did not miss any
+word.
+
+One by one the crestfallen unsuccessful ones went to their seats, and,
+to the amazement of all, Marjorie remained standing. At last, there were
+but six left in the match.
+
+"Macaroni," said Miss Lawrence.
+
+"M-a-c-c-a-r-o-n-i," said Jack Norton, and regretfully Miss Lawrence
+told 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's
+remark that there were no double letters in it.
+
+Miss Lawrence looked astounded. Now there were left only Marjorie and
+Gladys, 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 rather
+fail herself than to have her friend fail.
+
+On they went, spelling the words as fast as Miss Lawrence could
+pronounce them.
+
+Finally she gave Gladys the word "weird."
+
+It was a hard word, and one often misspelled by people much older and
+wiser 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 carefully
+on this word, bidding her remember that it began with two pronouns: that
+is, we followed by I. Often by such verbal tricks as this he fastened
+the letters in Marjorie's mind.
+
+The match was over, and Marjorie had won, for the first time in her
+life.
+
+Gladys was truly pleased, for she would rather have lost to Marjorie
+than any one else, and Miss Lawrence was delighted, though mystified.
+
+"I won! I won!" cried Marjorie, as she ran into the house and found her
+mother. "Oh, Mother, I won the spelling-match! _Now_, aren't you glad I
+went after my book?"
+
+"I'm glad you won, dearie; but hereafter I want you to stick to
+civilized behavior."
+
+"I will, Mother! I truly will. I'm so glad I won the match, I'll stick
+to anything you say."
+
+"Well, my girlie, just try to do what you think Mother wants you to, and
+try not to make mistakes."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+IN INKY PLIGHT
+
+
+"It's perfectly fine, Glad; I think it will be the most fun ever. How
+many are you going to have?"
+
+"About thirty, Mother says. I can't ask Kitty, and Dorothy Adams. All on
+the list are about as old as we are."
+
+"Kitty'll be sorry, of course; but I don't believe mother would let her
+go in the evening, anyway. She's only nine, you know."
+
+The two friends, Marjorie and Gladys, were on their way to school, and
+Gladys was telling about a Hallowe'en party she was to have the
+following week. The party was to be in the evening, from seven till
+nine, and, as it was unusual for the girls to have evening parties, they
+looked forward to this as a great occasion. Nearly all of the children
+who were to be invited went to the same school that Gladys did, so she
+carried the invitations with her, and gave them around before school
+began.
+
+The invitations were written on cards which bore comical little pictures
+of 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 favored
+ones who received them.
+
+Boys and girls chattered like magpies until the school-bell rang, and
+then it was very hard to turn their attention to lessons.
+
+But Marjorie was trying in earnest to be good in school, and not get
+into mischief, so she resolutely put her card away in her desk, and
+studied diligently at her lessons.
+
+Indeed, so well did she study that her lesson was learned before it was
+time to recite, and she had a few moments' leisure.
+
+She took out her pretty card to admire it further, and she scrutinized
+closely the funny old witch riding on a broomstick, after the approved
+habit of witches.
+
+The witch wore a high-peaked black hat, and her nose and chin were long
+and 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 a
+white hat would be absurd for a witch. It must be black. How to make the
+paper black was the question, but her ingenuity soon suggested a way.
+
+She took her slate sponge, and dipping it in the ink, smeared it over
+the white paper.
+
+This produced a grayish smudge, but a second and third application made
+a good black.
+
+The process, however, of covering the whole sheet of paper with ink was
+extremely messy, and before it was finished, Marjorie's fingers were
+dyed 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 paid
+no heed to the untidiness.
+
+Gladys, who had turned her back on Marjorie, in order to study her
+lesson without distraction, turned round suddenly and gave an
+exclamation of dismay. This startled Marjorie, and she dropped her
+sponge full of ink on her white apron.
+
+She straightened herself up, with a bewildered air, aghast at the state
+of things, and as her curls tumbled over her forehead, she brushed them
+back with her inky hands.
+
+This decorated her face with black fingermarks, and several of the
+pupils, looking round at her, burst into incontrollable laughter.
+
+Midget was usually very dainty, and neatly dressed, and this besmeared
+maiden 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 own
+merriment.
+
+"What _is_ that all over you, Marjorie?" she said, in as stern tones as
+she could command.
+
+"Ink, Miss Lawrence," said Midget, demurely, her simple straightforward
+gaze fixed on her teacher's face. This calm announcement of a fact also
+struck Miss Lawrence ludicrously, but she managed to preserve a grave
+countenance.
+
+"Yes, I see it's ink. But why do you put it on your face and hands and
+apron?"
+
+"I don't know, Miss Lawrence. You see, I was using it, and somehow it
+put itself all over me."
+
+"What were you doing with it?" Miss Lawrence was really stern now, for
+she 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 ink
+that large sheet of paper?"
+
+"I wanted to be a witch," said Marjorie, so ruefully that Miss Lawrence
+had to laugh after all.
+
+"You _are_ one, my child. You needn't ever make any effort in that
+direction!"
+
+"And so," went on Midget, cheered by Miss Lawrence's laughing face, "I
+thought I'd make me a witch's hat, to wear at recess. Truly, I wasn't
+going 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 a
+funny sight, indeed. And, as they laughed at her, some big tears of
+mortification rolled down her cheeks.
+
+These she furtively wiped away with her hand, and it is needless to say
+that this added the finishing touch to the smudgy black and white
+countenance.
+
+Miss Lawrence gave up. She laughed until the tears ran down her own
+cheeks, for Marjorie was really crying now, and her little handkerchief
+only served to spread the inky area around her features.
+
+"My dear child," said the teacher, at last, "I don't know exactly what
+to do with you. I can't wash that ink from your face, because it won't
+come off with only cold water. You must go home, and yet you can't go
+through 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 own
+hat and her teacher's veil, and then went with the little girl
+downstairs to the front door. On the way she talked to her kindly, but
+she did not attempt to gloss over her naughty deed.
+
+"I am sending you home, Marjorie," she said, "because you are not fit to
+stay here. If you were, I should keep you in, and punish you. You surely
+knew it was wrong to spill ink all over everything. You have ruined your
+desk, to say nothing of your clothes and your own belongings."
+
+"I'm so sorry, Miss Lawrence," said penitent Midget. "I just tried to be
+good this morning. But I happened to think what fun it would be to have
+a big, high-peaked witch's hat to prance around in at recess; and I
+thought I could make the paper black without such a fuss."
+
+"Well," said Miss Lawrence, with a sigh, "I don't know what to say to
+you. Go home now, and tell your mother all about it. I'll leave the
+matter of punishment in her hands. I'm sure you didn't mean to do
+wrong,--you never do,--but, oh, Marjorie, it _was_ wrong!"
+
+"Yes, it was, Miss Lawrence, and I'm awful sorry. I do hope Mother will
+punish me."
+
+Marjorie's hope was so funny that Miss Lawrence smiled, as she kissed
+the stained little face through the sheltering veil, and then Midget
+trudged off home, thinking that as Miss Lawrence had kissed her, she
+hadn't been so very bad, after all.
+
+"What _is_ the matter, child?" exclaimed Mrs. Maynard, as Marjorie
+marched 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 by
+the thick brown veil.
+
+"I can't guess just what's the trouble," said her mother, "but I do
+guess you've been getting into some mischief."
+
+Marjorie was disappointed.
+
+"Oh," she said, "I thought you'd guess that I've broken out with
+smallpox or measles or something!"
+
+Mrs. Maynard was preoccupied with some intricate sewing, and did not
+quite catch the first part of Marjorie's remark. But the last words sent
+a shock to her mother-heart.
+
+"What!" she cried. "What do you mean? Smallpox! Measles! Has it broken
+out in the school? Take off that veil!" As she spoke, Mrs. Maynard
+jumped up from her chair, and ran to her daughter with outstretched
+arms.
+
+This was more interesting, and Midget danced about as she turned her
+back to her mother to have the veil untied.
+
+With trembling fingers Mrs. Maynard loosened the knot Miss Lawrence had
+tied, and hastily pulled off the veil. Meantime, Midget had thrown off
+her coat, and stood revealed in all her dreadful inkiness.
+
+The saucy, blackened face was so roguishly smiling, and Mrs. Maynard was
+so grateful not to see a red, feverish countenance, that she sat down in
+a 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 it
+awful?"
+
+"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 what
+you 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 linen
+with milk, and, though the operation was rarely entirely successful, she
+hoped it would work better on her own skin.
+
+"Milk! No, indeed. Pumice stone might do it, but it would take your skin
+off, too. Tell me all about it."
+
+So the inky little girl cuddled into her mother's arms, which somehow
+opened 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," she
+said; "for I'm sure I don't, either. Marjorie, you _must_ have known you
+were doing wrong when you began that performance. Now, listen! If
+somebody had told you of another little girl who cut up just such a
+prank, 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 was
+in the back of my head, and somehow it slipped away from my memory when
+the 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 so
+quick it pushed everything else out of my mind."
+
+"Even your sense of duty, and your determination to be a good little
+girl."
+
+"Yes'm; they all flew away, and my whole head was full of how to make
+the 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 home
+from 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 you
+do these awful things, you must have awful punishments."
+
+"Yes, but to stay home from Gladys' party! Why, those horrid, cruel
+people 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 what
+we can do toward cleaning you up."
+
+The process was an uncomfortable one, and, after Marjorie's poor little
+face and hands had gone through a course of lemon juice, pumice stone,
+and other ineffectual obliterators, she felt as if she had had
+punishment enough.
+
+And the final result was a grayish, smeared-looking complexion, very
+different from her own usual healthy pink and white.
+
+Greatly subdued, and fearful of the impending punishment, Marjorie lay
+on a couch in her mother's room, resting after the strenuous exertions
+of her scrubbing and scouring.
+
+"I do think I'm the very worst child in the whole world," she said, at
+last. "Isn't it surprising, Mother, that I should be so bad, when you're
+so 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 concluded
+that it would indeed be too great a punishment to keep her at home from
+the Hallowe'en party.
+
+So her punishment consisted in being kept at home from the Saturday
+meeting of the Jinks Club.
+
+This was indeed a deprivation, as the members of the club were to plan
+games for the party, but still it was an easier fate to bear than
+absence from the great event itself.
+
+Marjorie was so sweet and patient as she sat at home, while King and
+Kitty started off for the Jinks Club, that Mrs. Maynard was tempted to
+waive the punishment and send her along, too.
+
+But the mother well knew that what she was doing was for her child's own
+good, and so she stifled her own desires, and let Marjorie stay at
+home.
+
+Midget was restless, though she tried hard not to show it. She fed the
+gold-fish, she read in her book of Fairy Tales, she tried amusements of
+various sorts, but none seemed to interest her. In imagination she could
+see 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 playroom
+window, "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 old
+fellow.
+
+"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. I
+feel 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, and
+I'm trying to catch you and eat you up."
+
+Down went Rosy Posy on all-fours, scrambling across the floor, and
+saying, "Peep, peep"; and down went Marjorie, and lumbered across the
+floor after her sister, while she roared and growled terrifically.
+
+Mrs. Maynard heard the noise, but she only smiled to think that Marjorie
+was working off her disappointment that way instead of sulking.
+
+Finally the hippopotamus caught the chicken, and devoured it with
+fearful gnashing of teeth, the chicken meanwhile giggling with delight
+at the fun.
+
+Then they played other games, in which Boffin joined, and also
+Marjorie's kitten, Puff. The days, of late, had been such busy ones that
+Puff had been more or less neglected, and as she was a socially inclined
+little cat, she was glad to be restored to public favor.
+
+And so the long morning dragged itself away, and at luncheon-time the
+Jinks Club sent its members home.
+
+The Maynards were always a warm-hearted, generous-minded lot of little
+people, and, far from teasing Marjorie about her morning at home, King
+and Kitty told her everything that had been discussed and decided at the
+Jinks Club, and brought her the money contributed by the members.
+
+So graphic were their descriptions that Marjorie felt almost as if she
+had been there herself; and her spirits rose as she realized that her
+punishment 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 too
+young to go to evening parties. But Mr. and Mrs. Maynard had promised
+some special fun to Kitty at home, and she watched Midget's preparations
+with interest quite untinged by envy.
+
+Kingdon and Marjorie were to go alone at seven o'clock, and Mr. Maynard
+was to come after them at nine.
+
+"But Gladys said, Mother," said Midge, "that she hoped we'd stay later
+than nine."
+
+"I hope you won't," said Mrs. Maynard. "You're really too young to go
+out at night anyway, but as it's just across the street, I trust you'll
+get there safely. But you must come home as soon as Father comes for
+you."
+
+"Yes, if he makes us," said Marjorie, smiling at her lenient father, who
+was greatly inclined to indulge his children.
+
+"If you're not back as soon as I think you ought to be, I shall
+telephone for you," said Mrs. Maynard; but Marjorie knew from her
+mother's smiling eyes that she was not deeply in earnest.
+
+Midget had on a very pretty dress of thin white muslin, with ruffles of
+embroidery. She wore a broad pink sash, and her dark curls were
+clustered into a big pink bow, which bobbed and danced on top of her
+head. Pink silk stockings and dainty pink slippers completed her
+costume, and her father declared she looked good enough to eat.
+
+"Eat her up," said Rosy Posy, who was ecstatically gazing at her
+beautiful 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 expecting
+her."
+
+Kingdon, quite resplendent in the glory of his first Tuxedo jacket, also
+looked 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 the
+mother, as a parting injunction, and then the two children started off.
+
+The parents watched them from the window, as they crossed the street in
+the moonlight, and Mrs. Maynard sighed as she said, "They're already
+beginning to grow up."
+
+"But we have some littler ones," said her husband, gaily, as he prepared
+for a game of romps with Kitty and Rosy Posy.
+
+When King and Marjorie rang the bell at Gladys Fulton's, the door opened
+very slowly, and they could hear a low, sepulchral groan.
+
+Midge clung to her brother's arm, for though she knew everything was to
+be as weird and grotesque as possible, yet it was delightful to feel the
+shudder of surprise.
+
+As the door opened further, they could see that the house was but dimly
+lighted, and the hall was full of a deep red glow. This was caused by
+putting red shades on the lights and standing a semi-transparent red
+screen 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 the
+gloom. The voice proceeded from a figure draped in a white sheet.
+
+"Hello, Ghost!" said King, who knew that Dick Fulton himself was wrapped
+in the sheet.
+
+"O-o-o-o-ugh!" groaned the ghost.
+
+"You don't seem to feel well," said Marjorie, giggling. "Poor Ghost, why
+don't you go to bed?"
+
+But before the ghost could speak again, a gorgeous witch came prancing
+up, carrying a broomstick wound with red ribbons. The witch was all in
+red, with a tall peaked hat of red, covered with cabalistic designs cut
+from gilt paper and pasted on. She groaned and wailed, too, and then
+spoke in a rapid and unintelligible jargon.
+
+The Maynards knew that this witch was Gladys, but some of the guests did
+not know it, and were greatly mystified.
+
+A few older persons, whom Mrs. Fulton had invited to help entertain the
+children, were stationed in the various rooms. Dressed in queer
+costumes, they played bits of weird music on the piano, or struck
+occasional clanging notes from muffled gongs.
+
+All of this greatly pleased Marjorie, who loved make-believe, and she
+fell into the spirit of the occasion, and went about on tiptoe with a
+solemn, awed face. Indeed she made the ghosts and witches laugh in spite
+of their wish to be awesome. The rooms were decorated to befit the day,
+and great jack-o'-lanterns grinned from mantels or brackets. Autumn
+leaves were in profusion, and big black cats cut from paper adorned the
+walls.
+
+Soon the party were all assembled, and then the games began.
+
+First, all were led out to the kitchen, which was decorated with ears of
+corn, sheaves of grain, and other harvest trophies.
+
+On a table were dishes of apples and nuts, not for eating purposes, but
+to play the games with.
+
+There were several tubs half filled with water, and in these the young
+people were soon "bobbing for apples." On the apples were pinned papers
+on which were written various names, and the merry guests strove to
+grasp an apple with their teeth, either by its stem or by biting into
+the fruit itself. This proved to be more difficult than it seemed, and
+it was soon abandoned for the game of apple-parings. After an apple was
+pared in one continuous strip, the paring was tossed three times round
+the head, and then thrown to the floor. The initial it formed there was
+said to represent the initial of the fate of the one who threw it.
+
+"Pshaw!" said Marjorie, as she tried for the third time, "it always
+makes E, and I don't know anybody who begins with E."
+
+"Perhaps you'll meet some one later," said Mrs. Fulton, smiling. "You're
+really 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 three
+attempts 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 blow
+straight and hard, and out went the candle-flame. Her prize was a gay
+little chenille imp, which she stuck in her hair with great glee.
+
+Then they all went back to the drawing-room, where a pretty game had
+been arranged during their absence.
+
+From the chandelier was suspended a large-sized "hoople" that had been
+twisted with red ribbon. From this at regular intervals hung, by short
+ribbons, candies, cakes, apples, nuts, candle ends, lemons, and sundry
+other things.
+
+The children stood round in a circle, and the hoop was twisted up
+tightly and then let to untwist itself slowly. As it revolved, the
+children were to catch the flying articles in their teeth. Any one
+getting a lemon was out of the game. Any one getting a candle end had to
+pay 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 and
+ate it. In the ice-cream had previously been hidden a dime, a ring, a
+thimble, a button, and a nutmeg. Whoever chanced to get the ring was
+destined to be married first. Whoever took the dime was destined to
+become very wealthy. The thimble denoted a thrifty housewife; the
+button, a life of single blessedness; and the nutmeg, a good cook.
+
+Shouts of laughter arose, as they learned that Kingdon would be an old
+bachelor, and doubts were expressed when Gladys triumphantly exhibited
+the nutmeg.
+
+"You can't ever learn to cook!" cried Dick. "You're too much of a
+butterfly."
+
+"Good cooks make the butter fly," said Kingdon, and then they all
+laughed again. Indeed, they were quite ready to laugh at anything. For a
+Hallowe'en party is provocative of much merriment, and the most
+nonsensical speeches were applauded.
+
+They popped corn, and they melted lead, and they roasted chestnuts, and
+then 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 hand
+Harry 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, or
+at least not hinder her; but all the time both must have a care that no
+drop of water was spilled from their cups.
+
+The tradition was that if they succeeded in threading the needle within
+a 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 too
+difficult.
+
+Nutshell boats was a pretty game. The tiny craft, made of English walnut
+shells, with paper sails, had been prepared beforehand, and the guests
+wrote their names on the sails, then loaded each boat with a cargo of a
+wish written on a slip of paper.
+
+The boats were then set afloat in a tub of water, and by gently blowing
+on them their owners endeavored to make them go ashore, or rather to the
+side of the tub. As one hit the wood it was taken out, and the owner
+joyfully announced that his or her wish would come true, but many of
+them stayed stubbornly in mid-ocean and refused to land. The unfortunate
+owners condoled with each other on their hard fate.
+
+The merry games being over, all went to the dining-room for the feast
+that was spread there.
+
+The children were paired off, and, while Mrs. Fulton played stirring
+strains on the piano, they marched around the rooms, and so out to the
+dining-room.
+
+The elaborately decorated table called forth shouts of joy, and soon all
+were seated in chairs round the room, enjoying the good things.
+
+On the table were jack-o'-lanterns made not only of pumpkins, but of
+squashes, turnips, and even of big red or green apples.
+
+Candles were burning in all of these, and standing about the table were
+queer little gnomes and witches, made of nuts, or of dried prunes.
+These little figures were souvenirs, and were distributed to all the
+guests. The ice-cream was in the form of little yellow pumpkins, and
+proved to taste quite as good as it looked. There were also more
+substantial viands, such as nut sandwiches, apple salad, pumpkin pie,
+and grape jelly. Everything had some reference to Hallowe'en or to
+Harvest 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 nine
+o'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 little
+ones home, they all agreed to wait ten minutes more.
+
+So they had a rollicking game of "Going to Jerusalem," and then the
+party was over.
+
+Marjorie said good-night politely to Mrs. Fulton and the other grown-ups
+who had entertained them, making her pretty little bobbing courtesy, as
+she had been taught to do.
+
+Kingdon said good-night in his frank, boyish way, and then they went for
+their 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 tell
+you every single thing that happened?"
+
+"I'd love to have you do that, Mopsy Midget; in fact, I can scarcely
+wait till morning to hear about it all. But it is my duty as a stern
+parent to order you off to bed at once. Little girls that wheedle fond
+fathers into letting them go to evening parties must be content to scoot
+for bed the minute they get home."
+
+"All right, then, Father, but do get up early in the morning to hear all
+about 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 to
+come off.
+
+Mrs. Maynard accompanied the little girl to her bedroom, but Midge was
+too tired to do more than tell her mother that it was the most
+beautiful party in the world, and that next day she should hear all
+about it.
+
+"I can wait, little girl," said Mrs. Maynard, as she tucked Midget up
+and kissed her good-night, but the exhausted child was already in the
+land 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, and
+I want you to stay at home, so that you can wheel the baby about if she
+asks you to do so."
+
+"I will, Mother. The Jinks Club meets here this afternoon anyway, and
+this morning I'll stay at home. Can't I ask Gladys to come over? We'd
+love 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 Marjorie
+ran 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 her
+baby-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 realize
+how tiresome that heavy carriage is, after wheeling it so many blocks."
+
+Marjorie pushed the little coach, while Gladys danced alongside, talking
+to the winsome baby.
+
+"What's her name, Mrs. Harrison?" she said.
+
+"Oh!" replied the young mother, "she has the dignified name of
+Katharine, but we never call her that. I'm ashamed to say we call her
+Totty."
+
+"I think Totty is a lovely name," said Midget. "It makes me think of
+Dotty, a baby who lives about a block away from us. She's just the same
+size as this baby."
+
+"Probably she's older, then," said Mrs. Harrison, complacently; "Totty's
+just 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 she
+really knew little about the comparative sizes of infants. Mrs. Maynard
+awaited them at the front door, and the procession arrived with a
+flourish.
+
+"Here we are, Mother," announced Marjorie, and she and Gladys lifted
+baby Totty out of her nest of pillows and knit afghans.
+
+"Why, how handy you are, child," said Mrs. Harrison. "But give her to me
+now, 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 she
+ought to be out in the fresh air this morning."
+
+"I'll see about it later," said Totty's mother, and then she went into
+the house with her hostess, and the girls ran away to play.
+
+But an hour later, Mrs. Maynard called Marjorie, and said she might take
+the 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 they
+that the baby laughed and crowed, and made friends at once.
+
+"How she takes to you!" said Mrs. Harrison. "Sometimes she is afraid of
+strangers, 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 tiny
+hands, and a white veil over her rosy face.
+
+"Does she need the veil?" asked Mrs. Maynard, doubtfully. "It isn't cold
+to-day."
+
+"No," said Mrs. Harrison; "but the breeze is brisk; and she's used to a
+light 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 the
+street, don't go more than two blocks away."
+
+"All right, we won't," said Marjorie. "Come on, Glad." The two little
+girls started off with the baby-carriage.
+
+"She's a careful child," said Mrs. Harrison, as she noticed Marjorie
+turn a corner with precision.
+
+"Yes," said Mrs. Maynard. "And she's devoted to children. You need have
+no fear of Totty."
+
+"Oh, I haven't," said Mrs. Harrison, and then the two friends returned
+to the house, and sat down for a long chat.
+
+The girls had a fine time with the baby. They rolled the carriage
+carefully, pausing now and then to present their little guest with a
+bright autumn leaf, or a big horse-chestnut, which they picked up from
+the ground.
+
+"Let's pretend she's an infant princess, and we're kidnapping her," said
+Marjorie.
+
+"All right; what's her name?"
+
+"Princess Petronella," said Marjorie, promptly, using a favorite name of
+hers.
+
+"I don't think much of that," said Gladys; "I like Ermyntrude."
+
+"Both, then," said Marjorie; for this was a way they often settled their
+differences. "Her name is Princess Ermyntrude Petronella; and we call
+her 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 fear
+of a pursuer, though no one was in sight.
+
+"How much shall we charge for ransom?" asked Gladys, in the hollow voice
+that they always used in their make-believe games.
+
+"A thousand rubbles," answered Marjorie; "and unless the sum is
+forthcoming ere set of sun, the Princess shall be,--shall be----"
+
+Marjorie hesitated. It seemed dreadful to pronounce fate, even in
+make-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, and
+the girls wheeled her along the path to the gate.
+
+"She reminds me so much of Dotty Curtis," said Midget. "Let's go down
+that 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 at
+Mrs. Curtis' house.
+
+Sure enough, there was the nurse wheeling the Curtis baby around the
+drive.
+
+"Good-morning," said Marjorie, who was friendly with Nurse Lisa. "How
+is Dotty to-day?"
+
+"She's well, Miss Marjorie," replied Lisa; "and who's the fine child
+with you?"
+
+"This is little Totty Harrison; and I think she looks like Dot. Let's
+compare them."
+
+The veils were taken off the two children, and sure enough they did look
+somewhat alike.
+
+"They're both darlings," said Marjorie, as she gently replaced Totty's
+veil. "Lisa, won't you let Gladys wheel Dotty for awhile, and I'll wheel
+Totty. That would be fun."
+
+"I'll willingly leave her with you for a bit, Miss Gladys. I've some
+work to do in the house, and if you'll keep baby for a few minutes it
+would be a great thing for me. Mrs. Curtis is out, but I know she'd
+trust you with the child, if the other lady does. But don't go off the
+place."
+
+"No," said Marjorie; "this place is so big there's room enough anyway. I
+promise you we won't go outside the gates, Lisa."
+
+"Isn't this fun?" cried Marjorie, as Lisa went away. "Now, we have two
+kidnapped princesses. Or shall we play house with them?"
+
+"No, let's have them princesses. Now you can name yours Petronella, and
+I'll name mine Ermyntrude."
+
+This momentous question settled, the game went on. They pretended that
+the princesses were anxious to get back to their respective homes, and
+that they must resort to bribery and strategy to keep them contented.
+
+"Nay, nay, Princess Petronella," Marjorie would say; "weep not for
+friends and family. I will take you to a far better place, where flowers
+grow and birds sing and--and----"
+
+"And gold-fish swim," went on Gladys, who always followed Marjorie's
+lead, "and roosters crow--cock-a-doodle-doo!!"
+
+This climax, accompanied as it was by Gladys' flapping her arms and
+prancing about, greatly delighted both princesses, and they laughed and
+clamored for more.
+
+"Aren't they dears!" exclaimed Marjorie, as she looked at the two pretty
+babies. "Methinks no ransom is forthcoming. Must we resort to our dire
+and dreadful doom?"
+
+"Aye, aye!" said Gladys. "To the enchanted castle with the fatal
+victims."
+
+So long as the girls used tragic-sounding words they didn't always care
+whether 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 wide
+lawn, 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 that
+to be a captive princess was a delightful fate. The girls sat still for
+awhile 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 chain
+them with rose garlands to a silken couch."
+
+"Huh!" said Marjorie, "that's not a dire fate. Let's do something that's
+more 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 hood
+on Totty, and Totty's cap on Dotty. And change their coats, too!"
+
+"Yes, and veils; oh, Mops! What fun! If we change their coats quickly
+they 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 early
+October, 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, as
+she 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 those
+cunning 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 how
+they look."
+
+Soon the transformation was complete. To all outward appearance of
+costume, Dotty was Totty, and Totty was Dotty. Even the veils were
+changed, as one was of silk gauze, the other of knitted zephyr.
+
+Then, not in their own, but in each other's carriage, the reversed
+princesses nodded and beamed at their captors.
+
+"Now, you push that carriage, and I'll push this," said Marjorie, taking
+hold of the carriage she had pushed all the time, though now it had the
+other 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 all
+babies go to sleep about this time in the morning. It seems too bad to
+wake them up to change their coats back again, but I think we ought to
+take Totty back, don't you?"
+
+"Yes, I do. Suppose we leave the coats and caps as they are, and then
+afterward 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 the
+Harrison baby.
+
+"Ah, she's asleep, bless her heart!" she exclaimed, looking at the
+closed eyes, almost hidden by the white veil. "I'm glad she's getting a
+fine nap. Run along now with your own baby."
+
+Partly confused by Lisa's quick and peremptory dismissal, and partly
+impelled by a sudden mischievous idea, Marjorie smiled a good-bye, and
+began trundling the other carriage toward the gate.
+
+"Why, Midge!" whispered Gladys, aghast. "We've got the wrong baby! This
+is Dotty Curtis!"
+
+"Keep still!" whispered Marjorie. "I know it. But it's a good joke on
+that snippy Lisa."
+
+"She wasn't snippy."
+
+"Yes, she was; she said 'Run along now, little girls,' after we've been
+helping her all the morning. She's going to let the baby stay asleep in
+the 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'll
+know the difference in the babies. They say mothers can always tell
+their own children. Now we'll see."
+
+"It's a great joke," said Gladys, giggling. "But suppose they never find
+it 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 with
+the baby-carriage.
+
+"Come along, girlies!" she cried. "Marjorie, wheel the carriage right
+into the hall."
+
+"The baby's asleep, Mother," said Midget, as she and Gladys brought the
+carriage 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 her
+veil, 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 notice
+any difference in the baby features.
+
+"Gladys, we'd like to have you stay to luncheon," she said. "So you and
+Midge run upstairs and tidy your curls at once." With demure steps, but
+with dancing eyes, the girls went upstairs.
+
+"I'm afraid it's mischief," whispered Gladys to Marjorie, as she tied
+her hair-ribbon for her.
+
+"No, it isn't!" declared Midge, stoutly. "It's only a joke, and it can't
+do any harm. Mother didn't know it was a different baby, and I don't
+believe 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 own
+mother 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 and
+that they are going for an afternoon's motor ride. She wants both of you
+girls to go, but she says you must fly over there at once, as they're
+all ready to start. She tried to tell us sooner, but couldn't get a
+connection 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 you
+must go at once, not to keep Mr. Fulton waiting. Of course, you needn't
+go if you don't want to, Midge."
+
+"Oh, I do! I'm crazy to go! And luncheon in baskets is such fun! What
+shall I wear, Mother?"
+
+"Go just as you are. That frock is quite clean. Put on your hat and
+coat, and I'll get a long veil for you."
+
+Gladys had already run off home, and Marjorie was soon equipped and
+ready 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 keep
+till 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 to
+hurry Marjorie up; so taking Dick's hand, the two ran swiftly down the
+path to the gate. Mrs. Maynard watched Marjorie's flying feet, and after
+she 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, who
+was 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 be
+too warm."
+
+"You'll waken her if you do."
+
+"Oh, well, she'll drop right to sleep again; she always does. And
+anyway, it's time she had a drink of milk."
+
+"Very well, Mildred. You take off her wraps, and I'll ask Sarah to warm
+some milk for her."
+
+Mrs. Maynard went to speak to Sarah, and Mrs. Harrison lifted the
+sleeping baby from the carriage.
+
+She sat the blinking-eyed child on her knee while she unfastened her
+coat. Then she took off the veil and cap, and then,--she stared at the
+baby, and the baby stared at her.
+
+Suddenly Mrs. Harrison gave a scream.
+
+"Helen, Helen!" she called to her friend, and Mrs. Maynard came running
+to her side.
+
+"What _is_ the matter, Mildred? Is Totty ill?"
+
+By this time the baby too had begun to scream. Always afraid of
+strangers, Miss Dotty Curtis didn't know what to make of the scenes in
+which she found herself, nor of the strange lady who held her.
+
+"Mildred, dear, what is the matter? You look horror-stricken! And what
+ails 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 kid
+shoes. 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 was
+genuinely alarmed.
+
+"Behave yourself, Mildred!" she said, sternly. "Gather yourself
+together. Here, sip this glass of water."
+
+"I'm perfectly sensible," said Mrs. Harrison, quieting down a little, as
+she 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 a
+little longer, and her eyes are a little larger. I don't know who this
+baby is, but she isn't mine."
+
+"I believe you're right," said Mrs. Maynard, looking more closely at the
+screaming baby.
+
+"There, there!" she said, taking the frightened little one in her own
+arms.
+
+"Ma-ma!" cried the baby.
+
+"Hear her voice!" exclaimed Mrs. Harrison. "That isn't the way my Totty
+talks. Oh, Helen, what has happened?"
+
+"I don't know," said Mrs. Maynard, her face very white. "It doesn't seem
+possible that any marauder should have slipped into the house and put
+this child in Totty's place. Why, it was only about a half-hour ago that
+the 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 from
+strangers? Helen, a dreadful crime has been committed. Somehow this baby
+has 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 find
+Totty?"
+
+Meantime Sarah appeared with a cup of warm milk.
+
+The baby stretched out eager little hands, and Mrs. Maynard carefully
+held the cup for her to drink.
+
+"She's a nice little thing," observed that lady. "See how prettily she
+behaves."
+
+"Helen, you'll drive me crazy. I don't care how she behaves, she isn't
+Totty. Why, that isn't even Totty's little dress. So you see the
+kidnapper did change her shoes and wraps, but not her frock."
+
+Mrs. Harrison showed signs of hysterics, and Mrs. Maynard was at her
+wits' end what to do.
+
+"I suppose I'd better call the police," she said. "Here, Mildred, you
+hold this baby."
+
+Mrs. Harrison gingerly took the baby that wasn't hers, and looked like a
+martyr 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 she
+touched it there was a furious peal at the front-door bell.
+
+The moment the door was opened, in rushed a pretty, but frantic and very
+angry, 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 you
+doing 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, and
+gurgled with glee.
+
+"Ma-ma!" said the other baby, waking up at all this commotion and
+holding out her hands also.
+
+The exchange was made in a moment, and, still unpacified, Mrs. Harrison
+and Mrs. Curtis glared at each other.
+
+Mrs. Maynard struggled to suppress her laughter, for the scene was a
+funny one; but she knew the two ladies were thoroughly horrified at the
+mystery, 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 much
+alike."
+
+"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 comfortably
+holding Dotty, she smiled, with a little embarrassment.
+
+"Dear Mrs. Maynard," she said, "I'm afraid I understand it all better
+than you do; but I'm also afraid, if I explain it to you, you will,--it
+will 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 I
+returned home from an errand, Lisa said that your Marjorie and Gladys
+Fulton had had Dotty out in her carriage, and had also another baby who
+was visiting you. The girls had left Dotty--or rather, Lisa supposed it
+was 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! The
+baby had on Dot's slippers, cap, coat, and veil, but the rest of her
+clothes I had never seen before. I felt sure there had been foul play of
+some 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, so
+I 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's
+all right, now, and you know Marjorie and Gladys are a mischievous
+pair."
+
+"But this is inexcusable," went on Mrs. Maynard. "Mrs. Harrison nearly
+went frantic, and you were certainly greatly alarmed."
+
+Mrs. Curtis smiled pleasantly. "I was," she admitted, "but it was only
+for a few moments. I was mystified rather than alarmed, for Lisa said
+the carriage had not been out of her sight a moment, except when the
+girls had it."
+
+Mrs. Curtis took her leave, and, carrying with her her own baby, went
+away home.
+
+Mrs. Maynard made sincere apologies to her friend for naughty Marjorie's
+mischief.
+
+"Never mind, Helen," said Mrs. Harrison. "I can see now it was only a
+childish prank, and doubtless Marjorie and Gladys expected a good laugh
+over it; then they ran off unexpectedly and forgot all about the
+babies."
+
+Mrs. Maynard remembered then that Midget had said at the last moment
+that she had something to tell her, but that she had hurried the child
+off.
+
+"Still," she thought to herself, "that was no excuse for Midge. She
+should have told me."
+
+After a refreshing luncheon, Mrs. Harrison was able to view the matter
+more calmly.
+
+"Don't punish Marjorie for this, Helen," she said. "Children will be
+children, and I daresay those girls thought it would be a fine joke on
+me."
+
+"I certainly shall punish her, Mildred. She is altogether too
+thoughtless, and too careless of other people's feelings. She never does
+wilful or malicious wrong, but she tumbles into mischief thoughtlessly.
+She will be honestly grieved when she learns how frightened and upset
+you were, and she'll never do such a thing again. But, the trouble is
+she'll do some other thing that will be equally naughty, but something
+that 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 have
+realized 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 to
+be a troublesome affair.
+
+Mrs. Harrison went home about four o'clock, and it was five before
+Marjorie 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 tell
+you 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 unhappy
+also."
+
+"Why, Mother, what was the trouble about?"
+
+Mrs. Maynard looked into the clear, honest eyes of her daughter, and
+sighed as she realized that Marjorie had no thought of what had made the
+trouble.
+
+"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 own
+baby?"
+
+"Marjorie, I'm ashamed of you. No, Mrs. Harrison did not laugh. Of
+course she knew that the child you left in the carriage was not her
+little Totty, and as she didn't know what had happened, she had a very
+bad scare, and her nerves were completely unstrung."
+
+"But why, Mother?" said Marjorie, looking puzzled. "I thought she
+wouldn't know the difference. But if she did know right away it wasn't
+Totty, why didn't she go over to Mrs. Curtis' and change them back
+again?"
+
+"She didn't know Totty was at Mrs. Curtis'. Neither did I. We never
+dreamed that you couldn't be trusted to take a baby out to ride and
+bring her home safely. She thought some dreadful thing had happened to
+her 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 was
+Totty."
+
+"But, my little girl, you ought to have realized that it was a cruel and
+even a dangerous joke. You cannot carelessly dispose of little human
+beings as if they were dolls, or other inanimate things."
+
+"I never thought of that, Mother. And, anyway, I started to tell you
+about it, just as I went away, and you told me to run along, and tell
+you what I had to tell after I came home."
+
+"I thought you'd say that; but of course I thought you meant you wanted
+to tell me some trifling incident, or something of little importance.
+Can't you understand that what you did was not a trifle, but a grave
+piece of misbehavior?"
+
+"Mischief, Mother?"
+
+Mrs. Maynard bit her lip to keep from smiling at Marjorie's innocent
+request for information.
+
+"It was mischief, I suppose. But it was more than that. It was real
+wrong-doing. When little girls are trusted to do anything, they ought to
+be very careful to do it earnestly and thoroughly, exactly as it is
+meant to be done. If you had stopped to think, would you have thought
+either 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 I
+wouldn'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 make
+you joy and not sorrow all your life, you must learn what constitutes a
+desirable '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 a
+well-laid plan to make somebody feel foolish or angry, or appear
+ridiculous. I think you hoped Mrs. Harrison would appear ridiculous by
+petting another child while thinking it was her own. And you meant to
+stand by and laugh at her."
+
+This was putting it rather plainly, but Marjorie could not deny the
+truth 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 among
+your playmates are bad enough, but this was far worse."
+
+"I understand, Mother, now that you've explained it; but, truly, I
+didn't mean to do anything so awfully dreadful. How are you going to
+punish me?"
+
+"Mrs. Harrison was very forgiving, and begged me not to punish you
+severely. 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 meant
+it, seems so different."
+
+"Well, I've thought it over, and I've decided on this. You dislike to
+sew; don't you?"
+
+"Yes, I do!" said Marjorie, emphatically.
+
+"I know you do. But I think you ought to learn to sew, and, moreover, I
+think this would be an appropriate thing to do. I want you to make a
+little dress for Totty. I will do the more difficult parts, such as
+putting it together, but you must run the tucks, and hem it, and
+overhand 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 every
+day, 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 but
+useful 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's
+babies. 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 her
+thoughtfully. "I never know what you're going to do next."
+
+"I never know myself," said Marjorie, cheerfully, "but you can always
+punish me, you know."
+
+"But I don't want to. I want you to behave so you won't need
+punishment."
+
+"I'll try real hard," said Midge, as she kissed her mother, again and
+again.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV
+
+A NOBLE SOCIETY
+
+
+The Jinks Club was having its weekly meeting, and all of the members
+were present.
+
+"I think," the President was saying, "that we ought to do something
+that's of some use. It's all very well to cut up jinks to have fun, and
+we did have a lot of fun on the straw ride last week; but I mean we
+ought 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 something
+public-spirited or charitable."
+
+"I think so, too," said Dick Fulton. "My father was talking last night
+about 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 a
+citizen, 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. What
+do they do, King?"
+
+"Oh, they vote, and----"
+
+"But we can't vote. Of course we girls never can, but you boys can't for
+years yet. Don't be silly."
+
+"Well, there are other things besides voting," said Dick. "Some citizens
+have big meetings and make speeches."
+
+"Now _you're_ silly," said Kingdon. "We can't make speeches any more
+than we can vote. But there must be things that young folks can do."
+
+"We could have a fair and make money for the heathen," volunteered
+Gladys.
+
+"That's too much like work," said King. "Besides, we're all going to be
+in 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 you
+don't, either!"
+
+"I do, too. Father told me all about the different parties and platforms
+and 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 a
+political platform was, Kitty's suggestion was not heeded.
+
+"I'll tell you," said Dick. "When Father was talking last night, he said
+if our citizens were public-spirited, they'd form a Village Improvement
+Society, 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. And
+we children could be a little Village Improvement Society ourselves. Of
+course we couldn't do much, but we could make a start, and then grown-up
+people might take the notion and do it themselves."
+
+"I think it would be lovely," said Marjorie. "We could plant flowers in
+the middle of the common, and we'd all water them and weed them, and
+keep them in lovely order."
+
+"We couldn't plant flowers till next spring," said Gladys. "October's no
+time to plant flowers."
+
+"It's not a very good time for such work, anyway," said Dick, "for most
+of the improvement is planting things, and mowing grass, and like that.
+But there are other things, 'cause Father said that such a society could
+make all the people who live here keep their sidewalks clean and not
+have any ashes or rubbish anywhere about."
+
+"I think it's great," said King. "I move we go right bang! into it, and
+that we first change the name of the Jinks Club to the Village
+Improvement Society. Then let's keep just the same officers, and
+everything, and go right ahead and improve."
+
+"Yes," said Marjorie, "and then whenever we want to turn back again to
+the Jinks Club, why, we can."
+
+"Oh, we won't want to turn back," said King, confidently; "the other'll
+be more fun."
+
+"All right," said Dick. "I'm secretary, so I'll make out a list of what
+we 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 to
+improve this town much."
+
+"Then I can't belong," said Marjorie, decidedly. "I've got to begin now
+to save money for Christmas. I'd rather have it for that than plant
+flower beds."
+
+"A nice citizen you are!" growled King. "But," he added, "I haven't any
+extra 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 says
+it makes better gifts."
+
+"Well," said Dick, "let's do things that don't cost money, then. Father
+said the streets and lanes ought to be kept in better order. Let's go
+around and pick up the old cans and things."
+
+"No, thank you," said Marjorie, turning up her small nose. "I'm no
+ragpicker."
+
+"I wouldn't do that, either," said Gladys; "that is, unless I had a
+horse and cart. A pony-cart, I mean; not a dump-cart. But, Dick, I heard
+Father talking last night, too; and he said a society like that would
+send out letters to the citizens, asking them to keep their yards in
+better order."
+
+"That's the ticket, Gladys!" cried Kingdon, admiringly. "You've struck
+it now. Of course that's the way to accomplish what we are after, in a
+dignified manner. Let's write a lot of those letters, and then when the
+people 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 he
+said 'a circular letter.' That means have it printed."
+
+"Oh, well, we can't afford to have it printed. Why, we can't scrape up
+postage for very many letters. Sixty cents; that would mail thirty
+letters."
+
+"We can't write more than that," said Marjorie. "That would be five
+apiece for all of us. And I don't know as Kit and Dorothy write well
+enough, 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 you
+just 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 writing
+to, 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 all
+summer. 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 pencils
+were 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 the
+interested 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 do
+we sign it?"
+
+"Just sign it 'The Village Improvement Society,' that's all," said
+Gladys.
+
+"Wait a minute," said King. "In all letters of this sort they always
+abbreviate 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 business
+letter 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 be
+something 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 the
+abbreviated 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 a
+lot of them, just put different names at the top, you know."
+
+"Let's make a more gentle one," said Marjorie. "Those are all right for
+men, but there's old Mrs. Hill, she ought to be told pleasantly to fix
+up her garden and keep her pigs and chickens shut up. We almost ran
+over 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 shows
+we 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,' you
+know."
+
+"I don't like it as well as some of the others," said Marjorie. "You
+copy that, Dick, and I'll copy the 'lovingly' one."
+
+Each took a model, and all set to work, except Kitty and Dorothy, who
+were exempt, as their penmanship was not very legible.
+
+"I'm tired," announced Dick, after an hour's work. "Let's stop where we
+are."
+
+"All right," said King. "We've enough for the first week, I think. If
+these work pretty good, we'll do more next Saturday."
+
+They had sixteen letters altogether, addressed to the best and worst
+citizens of Rockwell, and in high glee they started to the post-office
+to buy their stamps.
+
+Mrs. Maynard willingly gave permission for them to go the short
+distance to the post-office, and watched the six well-behaved children
+as they walked off, two by two.
+
+After the stamps were bought, and the letters posted, they found they
+still had enough in the treasury for soda water all round, lacking two
+cents. King generously supplied the deficit, and the six trooped into
+the drug store, and each selected a favorite flavor.
+
+The club meeting broke up after that, and the children went to their
+homes, 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 the
+post-office for their mail.
+
+In the small town there were no carriers, and the short trip to the
+post-office was deemed a pleasure by most.
+
+When Mr. Maynard arrived he was surprised to find men gathered into
+small 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 in
+front.
+
+"It's outrageous!" one man was saying. "I never heard of such impudence
+in 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 social
+circle.
+
+"Look here," said John Kellogg, "I've just got this 'ere note, and some
+kid yonder says it's the handwritin' of your son, and I want ter know ef
+that's so!"
+
+"It certainly looks like my son's writing," said Mr. Maynard, still
+smiling pleasantly, though his heart sank as he wondered what those
+children 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 step
+to meet Mr. Fulton. "They tell me our sons have been writing
+miscellaneous letters," he said to Mr. Fulton, and, though there was a
+twinkle in his eye, Mr. Fulton saw at once that there was some serious
+matter in hand.
+
+"Not only your sons, but your girls, too," growled another man. "My kid
+says this is your Marjorie's fist."
+
+"Well, well, what are the letters all about?" asked Mr. Fulton, who did
+not like the attitude of the complainants.
+
+"Read 'em, and see!" was the quick response, and half a dozen letters
+were thrust toward the two gentlemen.
+
+Mr. Fulton adjusted his glasses, and both he and Mr. Maynard quickly
+scanned the notes that were only too surely the work of their own
+children.
+
+"The signature is misleading," said Mr. Fulton, who was inwardly shaking
+with laughter at the absurd epistles, but who preserved a serious
+countenance; "but I feel sure it means 'The Village Improvement
+Society.' I have often thought such a society would be a good thing for
+our 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?" said
+Mr. Fulton, suavely.
+
+But the offended men were not to be so easily placated.
+
+"See here," said one of them, assuming a threatening tone, "these 'ere
+letters 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 wants
+satisfaction; that's what we wants!"
+
+"Yes, yes!" "We do!" chorused the crowd.
+
+Mr. Fulton and Mr. Maynard were decidedly nonplussed. It was difficult
+to take the matter seriously, and yet, as these men were so incensed, it
+might make an unpleasant publicity for the two families, unless they
+placated the angry recipients of those foolish letters.
+
+Mr. Maynard was a quick thinker, and a man of more even disposition and
+affable demeanor than Mr. Fulton. So Mr. Maynard, with a nod at his
+friend, jumped up on a chair and began to address the crowd, as if he
+were 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 received
+are without doubt the work of our own children. They were written
+entirely without our knowledge or consent, and they represent a childish
+endeavor to do well, but they do not show experience, or familiarity
+with grown people's ways of dealing with these matters. We, therefore,
+apologize to you for the offence our children have caused you, and
+trust that, as most of you have children of your own, you will
+appreciate the facts of the case, and forgive the well-meaning, but
+ill-doing, little scamps."
+
+Mr. Maynard's pleasant voice and genial smile went far to establish
+good-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 would
+like to make a suggestion that may lead to a good work. Several of our
+prominent business men have thought that a Village Improvement Society
+could do a great and good work in our town. I, myself, have not
+sufficient leisure to take this matter in charge, but I wish that a
+committee of our citizens might be appointed to consider ways and means,
+with a view to organizing a society in the near future. Should this be
+done, I stand ready to contribute one thousand dollars to the general
+fund of the society, and I've no doubt more will be subscribed by
+willing hearts."
+
+Mr. Maynard stepped down from the chair, and Mr. Fulton immediately
+mounted 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 sure
+that it was because of overhearing some of my conversations on the
+subject that my young people took it up, and earnestly, if in a mistaken
+manner, endeavored to start such a society."
+
+The sentiment of the meeting had entirely changed. The men who had been
+most angry at their letters were now enthusiastic in their desire for
+the 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 a
+few more preliminary moves in the matter, Mr. Maynard and Mr. Fulton
+went away, leaving it all in the hands of their fellow-townsmen.
+
+"You did good work," said Mr. Fulton, appreciatively. "I confess I was
+afraid of an unpleasant turn of affairs. But you won their hearts by
+your 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's
+deeds, and there's a possibility that some of those letters could make
+trouble for us. But I think it's all right now. The next thing is to
+choke off the children before they go any further. What _do_ you suppose
+possessed them to cut up such a trick?"
+
+"What possesses them to get into one sort of mischief after another, as
+fast as they can go?"
+
+"Well, this isn't really mischief, is it? They meant well, you know. But
+I'll reserve judgment until after I talk with my young hopefuls."
+
+The two men separated at the corner, and Mr. Maynard went directly to
+his 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 immediate
+interview 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 a
+secret, until all the town was stirred up."
+
+"The town is pretty well stirred up now, my girl. But I don't want
+reports of my children's doings from other people. Tell me all about it,
+yourselves."
+
+"We will, Father," said Marjorie, evidently glad of the chance. "You
+tell, King; you're president."
+
+Nothing loath, King began the tale. He gave a full account of their
+desire to do something that would be a public benefit of some sort. He
+told of Dick's suggestion, founded upon Mr. Fulton's remarks about a
+Village Improvement Society. He explained that they wrote letters
+because they hadn't money enough for any more expensive proceeding, and
+he wound up by proudly stating that they had mailed sixteen letters
+already, and hoped to send more the following week.
+
+So earnest was the boy in his description of the work, and so honest his
+pride in their efforts so far, that Mr. Maynard deeply regretted the
+necessity of changing his view of the matter.
+
+"Kingdon," he said, "you're fourteen years old, and I think you're old
+enough to know that you ought not to engage in such important affairs
+without 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 for
+it? We thought this was truly a good work, and we thought we were doing
+our duty!"
+
+Like a little whirlwind, Marjorie flew across the room, and threw
+herself, sobbing, into her father's arms.
+
+"My dear child," he said, kissing her hot little brow, "wait a moment
+till I explain. We want to talk over this matter, and get each other's
+ideas about it."
+
+"But you're going to say it was wrong,--I know you are! And I was trying
+so hard _not_ to do naughty things. Oh, Father, how can I tell what I
+can 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 least
+it would not have been for older people. But you children are ignorant
+of the ways of the grown-up world, and so you ought not to have taken
+the responsibility of dictating to or advising grown people. That was
+the 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 your
+parents and grandparents. You wouldn't think of dictating to your mother
+or myself 'for our good,' would you? And all grown people ought to be
+equally free from your unasked advice."
+
+"But, Father," insisted King, "if you kept this place looking like a
+rubbish-heap, wouldn't I have a right to ask you not to?"
+
+"You'd have only the right of our relationship. A child has many
+privileges with his parents that he hasn't with any one else in the
+world. But to come right down to the facts: the letters that you wrote
+were ill-advised, arrogant, and impertinent."
+
+Kitty looked frankly bewildered at these big Words, Marjorie buried her
+face on her father's shoulder in a renewed burst of tears, while Kingdon
+flushed 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't
+think they were. We thought they were straightforward and
+business-like."
+
+"That shows your ignorance, my son. Until you have been in business, you
+cannot really know what grown men and women consider business-like. I
+can tell you John Kellogg and Tom Bolton didn't consider them
+masterpieces of business-like literature."
+
+"How do you know?" said Marjorie, lifting her wet face from its
+hiding-place.
+
+"I saw them, dearie; both the men and the letters, at the post-office
+to-night. There were many others,--a dozen or more,--and they were, one
+and all, extremely angry at the letters they had received. Mr. Fulton
+and I were both there, and, when we were told that the letters were the
+work of our children, we could scarcely believe it."
+
+"And we thought you'd be so proud of us," said Kitty, in such a dejected
+voice that Mrs. Maynard caught up the little girl and held her in her
+arms.
+
+Of course, this was the first Mrs. Maynard had heard of the whole
+affair, but, as Mr. Maynard was conducting the discussion, she said
+little.
+
+"What ought we to have done, Father?" said King, who was beginning to
+see that they had done wrong.
+
+"When you first thought of the plan, my son, you should have realized
+that it concerned grown people entirely; and that, therefore, before you
+children undertook its responsibilities you should confer with your
+mother or me. Surely you see that point?"
+
+"Yes, sir," said the boy.
+
+"When your plans include only children, and are not disobedience to
+rules either actual and implied, then you are usually free to do pretty
+much 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 a
+town improvement is not a matter for children to attend to, _unless_
+they are working under the direction of older people. Had I advised you
+to write these letters, which, of course, I never should have done, for
+you are not the proper ones to write them, but had I done so, I would
+have shown you how to word them that they might not offend.
+Inexperienced letter-writers cannot expect to write a sort of letter
+which requires special delicacy, tact, and graciousness."
+
+"Father," said Marjorie, solemnly, "I'm never going to do anything
+again, but go to school and eat my meals and go to bed. Anything else I
+ever do is wrong."
+
+"Now, Mopsy Midget, don't talk nonsense. You're twelve years old. You've
+a lot to learn before you're a grown-up, and most of it must be learned
+by experience. If you never do anything, you'll never get any
+experience, 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 a
+lighter tone.
+
+"Then just go on and have your experiences. Cut up jinks and have all
+the fun you can; but try to learn as you go along to discriminate
+between the things you ought to do and the things you oughtn't. You
+won't always guess right, but if you keep on living you can always guess
+again."
+
+"What did those men say?" asked King, who was brooding over the scene in
+the post-office.
+
+"Oh! they were pretty mad at first, and I think they were quite ready to
+come after you children with tomahawks and war-whoops. But Mr. Fulton
+and I patted them fondly on the shoulder, and told them you were
+harmless 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 I
+can pull you out of your scrapes I'm only too glad to do so. I may as
+well tell you at once that Mr. Fulton and I fixed up this Imp Society
+matter very satisfactorily; and if you don't start in to lay a new
+asphalt road, or build a cathedral, I think I can keep up with you."
+
+"How did you fix it, Father?" asked Marjorie, brightening with renewed
+interest, as she learned that the trouble was over.
+
+"Oh! I told the gentlemen who were most interested that if they didn't
+like the way my children improved this village that they'd better do the
+improving themselves. And they said they would."
+
+"Really, Father?"
+
+"Really, King. So now you're all well out of it, and I want you to stay
+out. Unless they ask for your assistance, later on; and I doubt if
+they'll do that, for between you and me they don't seem to approve of
+your methods."
+
+"I think it was dreadful for the children to write those letters," said
+Mrs. Maynard. "And I don't think, Ed, that you've quite explained to
+them how very wrong it was."
+
+"Perhaps not," said Mr. Maynard, "but can't we leave that part of the
+subject till some other time? For my part, I'm quite exhausted scolding
+these young reprobates, and I'd like a change to smiles instead of
+tears. And somehow I have a growing conviction that they'll never do it
+again. Will you, chickabiddies?"
+
+"No, sir!" came in a hearty chorus.
+
+"Of course they won't," said Mrs. Maynard, laughing. "It will be some
+other ridiculous freak. But I'll be glad to drop the subject for the
+present, too, and have a pleasant half-hour before it's bedtime for
+babes."
+
+"And aren't we to be punished?" asked Marjorie, in surprise.
+
+"Not exactly punished," said her father, smiling at her. "I think I
+shall give you a severe scolding every night for a week, and then see if
+you're not little paragons of perfection, every one of you."
+
+"I'm not afraid of your scolding," said Marjorie, contentedly cuddling
+close to her father; "but I thought maybe--perhaps--you'd want us to
+apologize to those people who were so angry."
+
+"I did that for you, dearie. What's the use of having a father if he
+can't get you out of a scrape now and then? And now let's roast some
+chestnuts, 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 Ourday
+should be spent.
+
+Already it was Wednesday, and on Saturday the Maynards would have their
+November Ourday. It was Rosy Posy's turn to choose, but as her
+selections were usually either vague or impossible, the other children
+were 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, she
+at once responded, "To Bongzoo."
+
+"To Bongzoo!" exclaimed Mr. Maynard. "Where in the world is that? Or
+what 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' all
+of 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. Out
+with it, Midge. What does Baby mean by Bongzoo?"
+
+"She means the Bronx Zoo," said Marjorie. "I thought we'd all like to
+see the animals there. But it isn't my turn to choose, so I told Rosy
+Posy to choose that."
+
+"An' I do!" declared the child, stoutly. "I choose Bongzoo, an' I wants
+to go there."
+
+"I think it's a fine place to go," said Mr. Maynard. "What made you
+think of it, Midge?"
+
+"One of the girls at school went there some time ago, and she told us
+all about it; and, oh, Father, it's beautiful! All lions and tigers and
+waterlilies and Florida trees!"
+
+"I doubt if the waterlilies are in bloom just now, but I'm sure the
+tigers are flourishing. Well, I'm for the Zoo. Will you go, Mother?"
+
+"Yes, indeed," said Mrs. Maynard; "I don't want to miss such a
+fine-sounding Ourday as that."
+
+"I think it's great!" declared King. "Bob Carson says the birds are
+wonderful, and the alligators walk around on the grass."
+
+"Oh!" cried Kitty, "then I don't want to go. I wouldn't meet an
+alligator for anything!"
+
+"They have their own grass plat, Kitsie," said her father. "They don't
+trespass on the grass reserved for visitors."
+
+So the Ourday was unanimously settled, and, as that sort of a trip
+involved little preparation, there was nothing to do but hope for
+pleasant weather.
+
+"Though if it rains," said Marjorie, comfortably, "Father will fix up
+something nice for us in the house."
+
+But Saturday turned out to be a lovely day, and the Maynard family took
+an early train for New York City, in order to make their stay at the Zoo
+as long as possible.
+
+They did not invite any other guests, as Mr. and Mrs. Maynard thought
+their own four children responsibility enough.
+
+The young people greatly enjoyed the journey in the train, and across
+the ferry, and then Rosy Posy asked that they might go in what she
+called the "Cellarway." She meant the Subway, and, as this was a quick
+way to reach Bronx Park, Mr. Maynard consented. The children were of
+enthusiastic natures, and inclined to be conversational, but the noise
+of the Subway trains drowned their voices, and, for once, they were
+obliged to be silent. But when they reached their destination, and
+entered the beautiful park, their tongues were loosed again, and they
+kept up a running fire of chatter.
+
+Rosy Posy trotted along by her mother's side, King and Kitty walked
+together, and Midget pretended to walk by her father's side, but really
+danced back and forth from one to another. They visited the Botanical
+Park first, and as the early November day was clear and cold, they were
+not sorry to step into the warm greenhouses.
+
+Marjorie specially liked the great jungles of Florida and other
+southern vegetation. The banyan trees and giant palms reached up to the
+high ceiling, and the luxuriant foliage and brilliant blossoms made
+northern plants seem dwarfed beside them. It was an instructive
+experience, as well as an entertaining one, for Mr. Maynard called the
+children's attention to the printed names on the plants, and, though
+they could not remember all of them, they learned a great many.
+
+"It's fun to study botany this way," said Marjorie, as her father showed
+her the strange Mexican cacti, and told her about the deserts where they
+grow.
+
+King nearly scared Kitty out of her wits by pretending there was a great
+snake writhing among the dark-leaved reeds, but almost immediately she
+discovered it was only a rubber hose, and she laughed with the rest.
+
+There were many greenhouses, but after they had been through most of
+them, Mr. Maynard proposed that they have an early luncheon, and then go
+to see the animals.
+
+So they went to the picturesque restaurant, and the six travellers
+suddenly discovered they were both tired and hungry.
+
+"But an hour's rest and some good food will make us all over anew," said
+Mr. Maynard, "and then we'll be quite ready to call on the lions and the
+tigers."
+
+"Is this Bongzoo?" asked Rosy Posy, after she had been comfortably
+placed 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 Rosy
+Posy, folding her chubby hands to await contentedly the filling of her
+comprehensive order.
+
+Being an Ourday the children were allowed to select whatever they chose
+from the _menu_, their parents, however, reserving the right of veto.
+
+"I want roast beef," said Kitty, after scanning the more elaborate, but
+unfamiliar, names.
+
+"Oh, pshaw, Kit," said her brother, "you can have that at home! Why
+don't you take something different? It's more of a treat. I choose
+Supreme 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 this
+afternoon, and that's a risky dish for little folks. Try again, sister."
+
+Marjorie cheerfully made another perusal of the bill of fare, and at
+last declared in favor of chicken hash.
+
+This was willingly allowed, and when Kitty decided on an omelette with
+jelly, her choice was also commended. Mrs. Maynard added a few wise
+selections, which were for the good of all concerned, and each chose a
+favorite ice-cream.
+
+"Oh, what a good time we're having!" said Marjorie. "I do love to eat at
+a 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 a
+restaurant."
+
+After luncheon they visited the great "rocking-stone." The immense
+rock, weighing many tons, was poised on a tiny base, and it almost
+seemed 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 that
+a 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 of
+our day. This, Rosy Posy, is your Bongzoo, and first of all here are the
+bears."
+
+Delightedly all the children viewed the bears. The great creatures
+seemed so mild and gentle, and played with one another in such kittenish
+fashion, that even Rosy Posy felt no fear of them. There were various
+species, from the big grizzlies to the little brown cinnamon bears, and
+all waddled about in a state of comfortable fatness, or lay in the sun
+and slept peacefully.
+
+The lions and tigers were far less placid. They stalked up and down
+their small cages, and now and then growled or roared as if very weary
+of their long and solitary confinement.
+
+"He wants to come out," said Rosy Posy, of a particularly big and
+ferocious-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 come
+back."
+
+"No," insisted the child; "I'll put my arms round him, an' make him stay
+wiv me."
+
+"We won't have time now, Rosy Posy," said King. "We're going on now to
+see the panthers and wolves. Come along with brother."
+
+So the child slipped her little hand in King's, and they led the family
+procession for a while.
+
+The monkeys were a great source of amusement, and Rosy Posy thought some
+of 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 how
+beautiful are the white ones with yellow topknots."
+
+They studied, with some care, the names and homes of the birds, and
+learned 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 a
+sleepy sort of a way.
+
+The eagles came next, and all were proud of the National bird, as they
+viewed the fine specimens on exhibition. The bald eagle and the white
+eagle were favorites, and the vultures and condors were disliked by all.
+
+An interesting structure was an immense cage, which was larger than any
+house, and entirely open to view. They walked round all four sides of
+it, and were enchanted with its beautiful occupants pants. Storks and
+flamingoes stood about, on one leg, motionless, as if absorbed in deep
+contemplation. Pelicans, with their strange bills, and ducks of most
+brilliant plumage waddled around and seemed to be entirely interested in
+their eager audience.
+
+In another enclosure, cranes and adjutant birds flapped their great
+wings, and made long, hopping jumps, and then stood still, as if posing
+for their pictures.
+
+Marjorie proved herself specially quick in picking out each bird, from
+its descriptive placard, and she learned the names, both English and
+Latin, of many of them.
+
+"You don't mind going to school this way, do you. Midget?" asked her
+father.
+
+"Not a bit! I love it. If I could learn all my lessons out of doors, and
+with 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 if
+you remember all these jawbreaker names. Now, let's visit the beavers."
+
+The beaver pond was a strange sight, indeed. Originally there had been
+many tall trees standing in the swampy enclosure, but now nearly all of
+them lay flat in the water. The little busy beavers had gnawed around
+and into the trunks, near the ground, until the tree toppled and fell
+over.
+
+"Why do they do it, Father?" asked King, greatly interested.
+
+"They want to make bridges across the water," answered Mr. Maynard. "It
+shows a wonderful sagacity, for they gnaw the trunk of the tree, at
+first such a place, and in just such a way, that the tree will fall
+exactly 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 most
+patient and untiring workers. See, the trunks they have gnawed have been
+protected by wire netting that visitors may see them. And some of the
+standing trees are protected near the ground by wire netting that they
+may not be upset at present."
+
+"Now I know my beaver lesson," said Marjorie; "let's go on. Father, I
+think I'll change that piece I spoke in school to 'How doth the busy
+little beaver,' instead of bee!"
+
+"They're equally busy creatures, my dear. You may take a lesson from
+either or both."
+
+"No, thank you. I don't want to work _all_ the time. I'll be a butterfly
+sometimes, 'specially on Ourdays."
+
+Marjorie jumped and fluttered about more like a grasshopper than
+anything else, and, swinging by her father's hand, they passed on to the
+deer ranges.
+
+Here were all sorts of deer, and the gentle, timid-eyed creatures came
+tamely to the railings or nettings and made friends with the visitors.
+
+"It would be fun to feed them," said Mr. Maynard, "but it's strictly
+forbidden, 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'll
+take our next lesson from him. Would you rather have some sandwiches and
+ice-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 suppose
+we go into this pleasant-looking tea-room, and have a social hour."
+
+"This makes twice for ice-cream, to-day," observed Kitty, as she
+lovingly ate her favorite dainty. "And do we have it to-night for
+dinner, 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 is
+ice-cream."
+
+"Yes, it is," said Kitty, complacently; "or else huckleberry pie."
+
+After the ice-cream, there was the trip home. But the children were not
+tired, and enjoyed thoroughly the ride, which was more of a treat to
+them than to their parents.
+
+The Subway was fun, the ferryboat ride a delight, and after they were in
+the train on the New Jersey side, they coaxed the conductor to turn two
+seats to face each other. Then the quartette occupied these, and
+chattered gaily over the events of the day.
+
+"Isn't it lovely," said Marjorie, as they at last entered their own
+front door, "to think we've had such a good time, and yet Ourday isn't
+over yet?"
+
+"I know it," said Kitty. "And 'tis specially lovely for me, 'cause I can
+stay up to dinner, and dress up, and everything."
+
+Ourdays always wound up with an extra good dinner, and a touch of gala
+costume in honor of the occasion. Then after dinner the evening was
+devoted to games or stories or fun of some sort, in which Mr. Maynard
+was the ringleader. Other evenings he was not to be disturbed, unless he
+chose, but Ourday evenings he belonged to the children, and willingly
+did whatever they asked him to.
+
+But at nine o'clock the Ourday was over, and the children trooped off to
+bed, 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 the
+calendar didn't appear until the last part of the month. But winter had
+set in early, and already there was fine coasting and skating.
+
+Marjorie loved all out-of-door sports, and the jolly afternoons spent on
+the 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. Sometimes
+they all went to Grandma Sherwood's in orthodox traditional fashion, and
+sometimes they went to Grandma Maynard's, who lived in New York.
+
+But this year Mr. and Mrs. Maynard expected friends of their own, some
+grown-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 this
+time, as I sometimes help you entertain yours."
+
+"Indeed you do, you sweetest mother in all the world!" cried impetuous
+Midget, as she flung herself into her mother's arms. Midget's embraces
+were of the strenuous order, and, though Mrs. Maynard never warded them
+off, 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 make
+Indian pudding with raisins in it?"
+
+Midge was just having a spell of learning to cook, and good-natured
+Ellen had taught her a few simple dishes, of which Indian pudding was
+the favorite.
+
+"No thank you, dearie. As it is a festival occasion, I think we'll have
+something a little more elaborate than that. You can help me better by
+trying to behave decorously, and by keeping the other children quiet
+when they are in the drawing-room. Mr. and Mrs. Crawford have never had
+any children, and they don't like noise and confusion."
+
+"You're more used to it, aren't you, Mother?" said Marjorie, again
+springing to give her mother one of her spasmodic embraces, and
+incidentally upsetting that long-suffering lady's work-basket.
+
+"I have to be if I live with my whirlwind of an eldest daughter," said
+Mrs. 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 dump
+it 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 arranged
+the 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. You
+may help me make the guest-rooms fresh and pretty for them."
+
+"Yes; I'll stick pins in the cushions to make the letters of their
+names. Shall I?"
+
+"Well, no; I don't believe I care for that particular fancy. But I'll
+show 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 affairs
+later on."
+
+Away went Marjorie, after bestowing another tumultuous bear-hug on her
+mother. She whisked on her hat and coat, and with her mittens still in
+her 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 on
+the hill.
+
+"Talking to Mother. I meant to come out right away after school, but I
+forgot about it."
+
+Gladys Fulton looked at her curiously. She wasn't "intimate" with her
+mother, as Marjorie was, and she didn't quite understand the
+relationship.
+
+In another minute Midge was on her sled, and, with one red-mittened
+hand waving on high, was whizzing down the hill.
+
+King caught up to her, and the others followed, and then they all walked
+back up the hill together.
+
+"Going to have fun, Thanksgiving Day?" asked Dick Fulton, as they
+climbed along.
+
+"No. We're going to have a silly old Thanksgiving," said Marjorie. "Only
+grown-ups to visit us, and that means we don't have any good of Father
+at 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 and
+to make all you others behave, too." Her own eyes danced, as she said
+this, and King burst into laughter.
+
+"That's a good one!" he cried. "Why, it will take the whole Maynard
+family 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 was
+skeptical.
+
+"You mean to be good, all right," he said, "but at the party you'll do
+some crazy thing without thinking."
+
+"Very likely," said Mopsy, cheerfully, and then they all slid down hill
+again.
+
+The day before Thanksgiving Day everything was in readiness for the
+guests.
+
+Mr. Maynard had come home early, and the whole family were in the
+drawing-room to await the arrival.
+
+This, in itself, was depressing, for to be dressed up and sitting in
+state at four o'clock in the afternoon is unusual, and, therefore,
+uncomfortable.
+
+Marjorie had a new frock, of the material that Kitty called "Alberta
+Ross." It was very pretty, being white, trimmed here and there with
+knots of scarlet velvet, and Midget was greatly pleased with it, though
+she looked longingly out of the window, and thought of her red cloth
+play-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 of
+her 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 to
+think you're not my own brood at all. Is it necessary, Mother, to have
+this 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 be
+turning somersaults, or upsetting tables,--though, of course, they
+wouldn't mean to."
+
+"I daresay you're right," said Mr. Maynard, with a sigh, "and I do want
+them to behave like civilized beings, when our friends come."
+
+"There they are, now!" cried King, as the doorbell was heard. "But I
+don't see any carriage," he added, looking from the window. In a moment
+Sarah appeared with a telegram for Mrs. Maynard.
+
+"They are delayed," said that lady, prophetically, "and won't arrive
+till the next train." But this she said while she was opening the
+envelope. 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 so
+disappointed!"
+
+"It is too bad, my dear; I'm very sorry for you. I wish they could have
+let you know sooner."
+
+"Yes, I wish so, too. Then we could have gone out to Grandma Sherwood's
+for 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. But
+Grandma Sherwood couldn't get ready for six starving savages in such
+short order. Moreover, I fancy Mother has a larder full of good things
+here 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 you
+like to ask to eat Thanksgiving dinner with you?"
+
+The children considered.
+
+"It ought to be somebody from out of town," said Marjorie. "That makes
+it 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 the
+long-distance telephone now. Then if Molly can come, they can put her on
+the train to-morrow morning, and we'll meet her here. But I doubt if her
+mother 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 look
+after 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 own
+company, but, as you can't, I'm so glad Molly is coming. Now, that fixes
+to-morrow, but what can we do to-day to have fun?"
+
+"I think it's King's turn," said Mr. Maynard. "Let him invite somebody
+to dine with us to-night."
+
+"That's easy," said Kingdon. "I choose Dick and Gladys. We can telephone
+for them right away."
+
+"They don't seem much like company," said Marjorie, "but I'd rather have
+them than anybody else I know of."
+
+"Then it's all right," said Mrs. Maynard, "and, as they're not formal
+company, you'd better all change those partified clothes for something
+you 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 the
+dinner-table, instead of the guests who had been expected.
+
+But Mr. Maynard exerted himself quite as much to be entertaining as if
+he 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 elders
+were expecting callers.
+
+"Tell me about Molly Moss," said Gladys to Marjorie. "What sort of a
+girl is she?"
+
+"Crazy," said Marjorie, promptly. "You never knew anybody, Glad, who
+could get up such plays and games as she does. And she gets into
+terrible mischief, too. She's going to stay several days, and we'll have
+lots of fun while she's here. At Grandma's last summer, we played
+together 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 her
+nature, and, as she was really Marjorie's most intimate friend, she
+resented a little bit the coming of this stranger.
+
+"She sounds fine," was Dick's comment, as he heard about Molly. "We'll
+give 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 do
+anything."
+
+When Molly arrived the next morning, she flew into the house like a
+small 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 say
+that, 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 she
+had made in her mother's message, and the other children had not noticed
+it, either.
+
+"We're glad to have you with us, my dear," Mrs. Maynard replied; "and I
+hope 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 away
+from home alone.
+
+"It's queer to have you, but it's nice," said Marjorie. "Which do you
+like best, summer or winter?"
+
+"Both!" declared Molly. "Whichever one it is, I like that one; don't
+you?"
+
+"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 favorite
+coasting-ground. "What a little one! Why, the hills at home are twice as
+long as this."
+
+"I know it," said Mopsy, apologetically; "but this is the longest one
+here. Won't it do?"
+
+"Oh, yes," said Molly, who did not mean to be unpleasantly critical, but
+who was merely surprised. "But you have to be going up and down all the
+time."
+
+"We do," agreed King. "But it's fun. And, anyway, you have to go up and
+down 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 a
+first-rate coaster, and she liked it better than a long one, because it
+was easier to walk up.
+
+They all liked Molly. Gladys concluded she was a welcome addition to
+their crowd, and both Kingdon and Dick thought her a jolly girl.
+
+She was daring,--sometimes a little too much so,--but she was
+good-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 very
+dignified and exclusive. Indeed, he was a bit surly, and not very well
+liked by his fellow townsmen. But he had a fine sleigh and a magnificent
+pair of horses, which were driven by a coachman in a brave livery and
+fur cape.
+
+"Please give us a hitch," called out Molly, as the glittering equipage
+drew 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 her
+cheeks, 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 of
+children.
+
+"What did you say?" he demanded, and Molly repeated her request.
+
+Marjorie was a little shocked at the performance, but she thought
+loyalty to her guest required that she should stand by her, so she
+stepped 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 on
+behind somehow."
+
+The obedient footman left his place, and, though the order must have
+been an unusual one, he showed no sign of surprise.
+
+"Yes, sir," he said, touching his hat. "Beg pardon, sir, but what shall
+I 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, all
+the way along. Blockhead!"
+
+"Yes, sir; very good, sir." And, touching his hat again, the
+unperturbed footman went to work. How he did it, they never knew, for
+the sleigh had not been constructed for the purpose of "giving a hitch"
+to children's sleds, but somehow the ingenious Martin attached a sled
+securely to the back of the big sleigh. Molly took her seat thereon, and
+then 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 touched
+up 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 the
+sleigh, and though the boys, who were at the end of the line of sleds,
+fell off occasionally, they floundered on again, and were all right
+until they turned another sharp corner.
+
+"Thank you, _very_ much, mister," said Molly, heartily, as they neared
+the Maynard home; "we're going to leave you now."
+
+Again the sleigh stopped, the dignified footman came and released the
+sleds, 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 of
+asking 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 us
+again."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII
+
+THANKSGIVING DAY
+
+
+The Thanksgiving Dinner was a jollification.
+
+The Maynard children were always a merry crowd, but the added element of
+Molly's gaiety gave a new zest to the fun.
+
+The pretty table decorations, planned for the expected guests, were
+modified better to suit the children's tastes, and when dinner was
+announced and they all went out to the dining-room, a general shout of
+applause was raised.
+
+In the middle of the table was a large "horn of plenty," fashioned of
+gilded pasteboard. From its capacious mouth were tumbling oranges,
+apples, bananas, grapes, nuts, figs, and raisins. The horn itself was
+beautifully decorated, and seemed to be suspended from the chandelier
+above by red ribbons.
+
+Also, red ribbons, starting from the horn itself, led to each person's
+plate, and at the end of each ribbon was a name-card.
+
+Gleefully the children took their places, and laughed merrily at the
+funny little souvenirs that stood at their plates.
+
+Kingdon had a jolly pig, made of a lemon, with wooden toothpicks stuck
+in for legs, a curly tail made of a bit of celery, and two black-headed
+pins for eyes.
+
+Marjorie had a horse made of a carrot, which looked like a very frisky
+steed, indeed.
+
+"It should have been made of a horse-radish," said Mr. Maynard, who was
+the originator of these toys, "but I feared that would make you weep
+instead 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 a
+feather in it, and a red tunic tied with gold braid.
+
+Kitty had a nut doll, whose head was a hazelnut, and its body an English
+walnut. 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 made
+of blanched almonds, fastened to the card by stitches of thread, which
+looked like tiny legs and tails.
+
+Mrs. Maynard found at her place a tiny figure of a dancing girl. The
+head was a small white grape, and the body and ruffled skirts were
+merely a large carnation turned upside down.
+
+And Mr. Maynard's own souvenir was a funny old fat man, whose body was
+an 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't
+easy to make. Father does them so beautifully, because he is patient and
+careful. But you and I, Molly, are too slapdash. We'd never take pains
+to make them so neatly."
+
+"Yes, I would," declared Molly, positively; "because I see how nice they
+look when they're done well! I don't want any broken-legged pigs, or
+tumble-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 of
+what 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, it
+comprised many and various confections.
+
+First, there was placed at each plate a dear little mince pie, hot, and
+covered with a drift of powdered sugar. In the middle of each pie stood
+a 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 just
+candles to keep the pies hot. But as I want to eat my pie, I'll just eat
+the candle first, and get it out of the way."
+
+So saying, he calmly blew out the flame, and in a moment had eaten the
+candle, wick and all!
+
+"Oh, Father!" cried Marjorie. "How could you do that? Do you like wax
+candles?"
+
+"These candles aren't exactly wax," said her father, "and I must say
+mine tasted very good."
+
+Molly's bright black eyes snapped.
+
+"If Mr. Maynard can eat candles, so can I!" she declared, and, blowing
+out 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 cut
+with an apple-corer, and the "wicks" were bits of almond cut the right
+shape and stuck in the top of the candle. The oil in the nut causes it
+to burn for a few moments, and the whole affair looks just like a real
+candle.
+
+The mince pies were followed by ice-cream, and that by fruits and
+candies, and then the feast was over, but every one carried away the
+jolly little souvenirs to keep as mementoes of the occasion. Skating was
+the order of the afternoon.
+
+Mr. Maynard went with the older children, while Mrs. Maynard and Rosy
+Posy amused themselves at home.
+
+Kitty couldn't skate very well, but all the others were fairly good
+skaters, and soon they were gliding over the ice, while Mr. Maynard
+pushed Kitty in a sliding chair. She thought she had the most fun of
+all, but the others preferred their own feet to a chair, and skated
+tirelessly around the lake, not at all dismayed by somewhat frequent
+upsets and tumbledowns.
+
+The Fultons joined them, and several others, and Molly soon made
+acquaintance with many of the Maynards' friends.
+
+Molly was such a daring child that Mr. Maynard carefully warned her
+about going near the thin places in the ice, and she promised to avoid
+them. 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, the
+one at the end stood still and swung the others round like the lash of a
+whip. No trouble was likely to occur if they held hands firmly. But to
+separate meant that the end ones would be whirled away, and might get a
+bad fall.
+
+As the boys were strong and sturdy, and the girls had promised to hold
+on tightly and carefully, Mr. Maynard let them play this game, though he
+had always thought it a dangerous sport.
+
+"Just once more," begged Marjorie, when at last he told them he would
+rather 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, he
+pulled the line about so suddenly that Molly, who was not expecting it
+so soon, was jerked away from her next neighbor.
+
+She and Marjorie were flung with force across the ice, but they were
+quite alert, kept their balance perfectly, and would have been skating
+back 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 above
+the rest:
+
+"Don't yell so! We're all right, only it's awful cold. Just get us out
+as quick as you can."
+
+Relieved to learn that they hadn't gone under the water, Mr. Maynard
+soon found a fence-rail, and, with the boys' assistance, it was not long
+before the dripping girls were once more outside the lake, instead of
+inside.
+
+"No harm done, if you obey my orders," said Mr. Maynard, cheerily, for
+the two white faces looked more scared than they had at first. He
+hurriedly took off their skates, and then said, "Now, run for home, just
+as fast as you can go, and the one who gets there first shall have a
+prize."
+
+A little bewildered by this order, but quite ready to obey, Marjorie
+started 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 quite
+warm, they reached the Maynard house at almost exactly the same time.
+
+Exhausted, they tumbled in at the door, and Mrs. Maynard met them in the
+hall.
+
+"What _is_ the matter?" she exclaimed. "Where _have_ you been?"
+
+"Skating," said Marjorie, hurriedly, "and we fell in, and Father said
+to run home quick and get dry shoes and things and he'd give us a
+prize."
+
+"A prize!" said Mrs. Maynard, laughing. "You deserve a prize, indeed! A
+hot bath is what you'll get, and a drink of hot milk."
+
+"All right," said Mopsy, cheerfully, "I don't mind; and, while we're
+about it, we may as well dress for afternoon."
+
+The programme was carried out as arranged, and not very long after two
+spick-and-span little girls were sitting by the library fire, sipping
+hot 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 children
+floundering in the lake, and I thought--I truly did--that they were
+Midge and Molly! How could I have made such a foolish mistake?"
+
+"It was strange, indeed!" said Molly, with twinkling eyes. "Have you
+been skating, Mr. Maynard?"
+
+"Part of the time. But the rest of the time I was organizing and
+assisting a rescue party to save those foolish children I was just
+telling you of."
+
+"We were foolish!" cried Marjorie, jumping up and running to her
+father's arms. "I'll never do it again, Daddy, dear."
+
+"Indeed you won't, my lady. I hereby issue a mandamus, a fiat, a
+writ,--and if you don't know what those things are, I'll say a plain
+every-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't
+believe you'll even take cold from your sudden plunge, for you both ran
+home like killdeer. And, by the way, who won the prize?"
+
+"We came in almost exactly together," said Marjorie. "I was a little bit
+ahead 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 me
+at 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 was
+finished it would be bedtime for young people.
+
+He produced a large spool, through which had been run a number of
+different colored and very narrow ribbons. Mr. Maynard held the spool,
+with the short ends of the ribbons hanging out toward himself, while the
+long ends of the ribbons, which reached across the room were apportioned
+one to each child.
+
+They were allowed to select their own colors, and Marjorie took red, and
+Molly pink. Kitty had the blue one, and King a yellow one. Mrs. Maynard
+held a white one, and as Rosamond had gone to bed, no more ribbons were
+used, though there were others in the spool.
+
+"Now," said Mr. Maynard, "I'll begin to tell a story, make it up as I go
+along, you know, and then when I stop I'll pull one of these ends. I
+won't look to see which one I pull, but whoever holds the other end of
+the same ribbon, must take up the story and go on with it. Do you
+understand?"
+
+"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 for
+this sad state of affairs was that no one could think of a name good
+enough for her. She was so beautiful and so lovely and sweet-tempered
+that every name seemed commonplace, and the King and Queen who were her
+parents offered a great reward to any one who would suggest a name that
+seemed appropriate. But, though they proposed every name that was known,
+and made up a great many more, none seemed to suit, and so the Princess
+grew up without any name at all. But one day her grandmother gave her a
+lovely little writing-desk for a birthday present. The Princess was
+delighted, and immediately she learned to write letters. But, strange to
+say, she never received any answers to the letters she sent. Days
+passed, and weeks passed, but nobody answered the letters. She went to
+the Court Wise Man, and said to him:
+
+"'Prithee, tell me, oh, Seer, why do my friends not answer the letters I
+have sent them?'
+
+"'Oh, Princess!' said the Court Wise Man, 'it is because you have no
+name, and, though they have already written letters to you, they know
+not how to address them. For how can one address a letter to a nameless
+person?'
+
+"'How, indeed!' cried the Princess. 'But I will have a name. I will
+choose one for myself.'
+
+"So she sat down, and thought deeply for a long time, and then she
+jumped 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 the
+ends 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 the
+little girl jumped as she felt the ribbon move in her hand. But Kitty
+was usually ready for an emergency.
+
+"Violetta Evangeline," she said. "The Princess thought that was the most
+beautiful name in the world, and I think so, too. Well, then, her
+father, the King, had the news sent all through the kingdom that his
+daughter was named at last, and then everybody sent her letters. She had
+bags and bags full of mail every day, and they had to put on an extra
+postman. And she had valentines in the mail, and catalogues, and
+birthday presents, and samples of dresses, and seeds for flowers,
+and,--and magazines, and,--and,--and one day a little live kitten came
+to her in the mail, and she was _so_ pleased. So she named the kitten
+Toodle-Doo, and wherever she went she took the kitten with her. And one
+day she went off on a long journey, and of course Toodle-Doo went with
+her. And as they went along,--and went along----"
+
+Just here Mr. Maynard pulled another ribbon, and Molly gave a startled
+jump.
+
+So Kitty stopped, and Molly took up the story:
+
+"They went along," said she, dropping her voice to a tragic whisper, "on
+a dark and lonely road. And a great pirate jumped out at them, and
+cried, 'What, ho! The password?' And Violetta Evangeline didn't know the
+password, but she guessed at it, and she guessed, 'Crackers and Cheese,'
+and, as it happened, she guessed just right, and they let her go
+through."
+
+"Through what?" asked King, greatly interested.
+
+"Oh! I don't know," returned Molly, carelessly; "through the gate, I
+s'pose, into the enchanted garden. So she went in, and everything
+enchanted happened all at once. She was turned into a fairy, and the
+kitten was turned into a canary bird, and he roosted on the fairy's
+shoulder, and then he began to sing. And then the enchantment turned him
+into a music-box, and so Violetta Evangeline didn't have any kitten or
+any bird or anybody to play with. But just then the Fairy Prince came
+along, and he said he'd play with her. And he said she could play with
+his toys. So she went to see them, and they were all made of gold and
+jewels. His tops were of gold, and his kites were of gold all set with
+rubies and diamonds."
+
+"Huh," said King, "they couldn't fly!"
+
+"These kites could," said Molly, quite undisturbed, "because they were
+enchanted 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 flew
+away 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 and
+outside of the enchanted garden, so then she wasn't enchanted any more,
+but she was just a Princess again. So she walked forth, and sought
+adventures. And her first adventure was with a dragon. He was an awful
+big dragon, and flames of fire came out of his mouth and his ears and
+his toes. But the Princess wasn't afraid of him, and as there was a big
+hydrant near by, she turned it on him and put the flames out. Then he
+wailed, 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 me
+what your woe is, and perhaps I can help you.' So the Dragon said----"
+
+Here Kingdon's ribbon pulled, and, though taken somewhat unawares, the
+boy 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 a
+tree.' 'Oh, if you only would!' exclaimed the Dragon. So the Princess
+taught him to climb a tree, and they all lived happy ever after."
+
+King brought his story to an abrupt close, because his mother had begun
+to look at the clock, and to intimate by sundry nods and gestures that
+it was bedtime.
+
+"But Mother hasn't told any of the story yet," said Kitty, who was
+herself so sleepy she could scarcely listen even to the tale of her own
+Violetta 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 up
+to bed."
+
+So away trooped the children, glad to have learned a new game, and
+carefully putting away for future use the spool with the ribbons through
+it.
+
+"But the ribbons don't really make any difference," said Molly, as they
+went upstairs. "You could just as well _say_ whose turn comes next."
+
+"But it's so much prettier," argued Marjorie; "and it makes it seem so
+much 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 very
+thing!"
+
+And so "A Spool of Yarns" became one of their favorite games, and was
+often played in the evenings or on stormy days.
+
+The rest of Molly's visit passed all too quickly, and Marjorie was sad
+indeed 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 young
+Maynards 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 much
+mischief; 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 the
+Whip.'"
+
+"Oh, yes, indeed, Mother. I can never forget that, 'cause I have my
+prize, you know."
+
+True to his word to give them both prizes, Mr. Maynard had brought the
+girls each a dainty silver bangle, from which hung a tiny pair of
+skates. This, he said, was to remind them of the dangerous game, and of
+their really narrow escape on Thanksgiving Day.
+
+Later that afternoon Marjorie came home from her skating in a great
+state of excitement.
+
+"Oh, Mother," she said; "Miss Merington has asked me to be at her table
+at 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 asked
+Gladys to be with her. You see, it's this way. Haven't you heard about
+the Alphabet of Booths?"
+
+"No; what does that mean?"
+
+"Well, I'll tell you. You see, the whole big Bazaar is going to be
+divided up into twenty-six booths. Each one is a letter--A, B, C, you
+know. Then everybody who takes charge of the booth begins with that
+letter, and sells those things."
+
+"What things?"
+
+"Why, Mother, like this. The A booth is in charge of Mrs. Andrews, and
+she 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 and
+baskets and whatever begins with B."
+
+"Oh, yes, I understand. And it's very clever. And so Miss Merington
+invited 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. Something
+that 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 me
+how?"
+
+"Yes, and mops, too; you can make mops, or buy them, either. I suppose
+they expect you to contribute some articles to be sold. I'll make some
+for you, too. I'll make you a lovely big, soft melon cushion, a head
+rest, you know. And, oh, Mopsy! I'll give you some mixed pickles, some
+of 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? And
+Miss 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. Perhaps
+Father can think up some things for you that begin with M."
+
+This was a good suggestion, and that very evening Midget put the
+question:
+
+"Father, what begins with M that you could sell?"
+
+"Why, Mopsy Midget Maynard, I could sell you, but I doubt if I could get
+a 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. Are
+you allowed to have any sort of wares if they begin with the right
+letter?"
+
+"Yes, I think so. Mother thought of mats and mops."
+
+"That's a good start. How are you to get these things? Do you donate
+them all to the Bazaar?"
+
+"Yes; or Miss Merington said we could ask people to give us things, but
+I don't like to do that."
+
+"No; not from strangers, of course. But I'm sure Mr. Gordon will be glad
+to give you some toys or notions out of his store. He's such an old
+friend of mine, I wouldn't mind your asking him. And then I think Uncle
+Steve would send you a few trinkets, or Grandma Sherwood might. But most
+of your contributions I think we'll get up here at home. Now, let's be
+methodical, because that begins with M, and first we'll make some
+lists."
+
+Marjorie was greatly interested, and flew for a pad and pencil, and then
+waited for her father to make his lists.
+
+"I declare, Midget," he said, at last, "this is harder than I thought. I
+can'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 to
+ask any one else, but Tom Gordon told me he would give a lot of things
+to the Bazaar, and he said for you to go down there and pick out what
+you 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 of
+stationery 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; and
+perhaps some magazines. Oh, and memorandum-books. You can always sell
+those to business men. Then he has maps, too; pocket-maps, or even
+larger 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't
+know 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 be
+lovely. All the little girls will buy them. Now, can't I make something
+else?"
+
+"Why, yes; make candy! Marshmallows,--I'll teach you how; you know I'm a
+famous candy-maker. But I don't know any other sort,--unless we say
+mint-drops. Would that do?"
+
+"Oh, yes. And I can make mottoes. Any kind of candy, you know, done up
+in motto-papers."
+
+"That's a fine idea! We'll all make a lot of home-made candy, and help
+you wrap it the night before the show. Then your nice, fresh mottoes
+will go off like hot cakes."
+
+"Yes, indeed. And Ellen is going to give me some jars of her good mixed
+pickles."
+
+"Oh, Ellen can help you a lot. Ask her to make you some mince pies and
+marmalade, and macaroons."
+
+"Goody! Goody! I can have a regular food sale, all of M's! Why, it's a
+lovely 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 full
+of queer things. Indian curiosities, and such things. Miss Merington
+told me about it. Gladys is going to be with Miss Frost. She's going to
+make fudge, and paper fairies. And her father is going to give her a lot
+of fans,--Japanese ones,--and Dick is going to cut her out some fretwork
+things with his scroll-saw."
+
+"Well, I think the ladies will have very helpful little assistants. I'll
+bring you a budget of things from the city, and we'll all have a bee to
+make candy for you."
+
+The bee was great fun. The day before the Bazaar, Mr. Maynard brought
+home all sorts of goodies to make the candies with. He came home early
+that 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 shape
+and size for mottoes.
+
+Rosy Posy, who loved to cut paper, snipped away at the sheets of printed
+verses, and really helped by cutting the couplets apart, all ready to be
+tucked 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, and
+serve macaroni, and mackerel, muskmelons, and milk.
+
+But Mr. Maynard said he feared that would necessitate medicine and
+medical attendance.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX
+
+THE CHARITY BAZAAR
+
+
+The Bazaar opened Thursday afternoon, and was to continue the rest of
+the 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 for
+the occasion.
+
+Marjorie was allowed to stay home from school, and in the morning she
+went over to the hall to take her contributions and to help Miss
+Merington arrange the booth.
+
+Uncle Steve had responded nobly to Marjorie's letter asking him to send
+her some M things. A box came to her by express, and in it were some
+Indian beaded moccasins that were unique and beautiful. Then there were
+several pocket mirrors and hand mirrors; half a dozen mousetraps; a
+package 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. At
+first Marjorie didn't know the name of this, though she had seen them
+used 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 by
+neatly 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 greatly
+pleased.
+
+"You're a worth-while assistant," said the young lady, as she bustled
+about, arranging her pretty booth.
+
+True to the spirit of the plan, Miss Merington had made her booth of
+mauve-colored tissue-paper, and decorated it with morning-glories, also
+made of paper, of delicate violet shades.
+
+It was one of the prettiest booths in the room, and Marjorie was glad
+she belonged to it.
+
+"Now, Moppet," said Miss Merington, "what are you going to wear this
+afternoon? 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 not
+to 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 Mother
+bought 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, so
+that people will want to come to our booth to buy things. Then when they
+come, you may tell them the prices of things if they ask you, but don't
+ask them to buy. I hate people at fairs who insist on everybody's buying
+their goods. Don't you?"
+
+Marjorie felt quite important at being consulted on this matter, and she
+hastened to agree with Miss Merington.
+
+"Yes," she said. "But you won't have to ask the people to buy; I think
+they'll want to come here, because this is the prettiest booth in the
+whole room."
+
+"I'm glad you think so. But Miss Frost's booth is lovely. All made of
+cotton-wool snow, and tinsel ice."
+
+"Oh, it's beautiful. My friend Gladys Fulton belongs there, and Daisy
+Ferris, too. I thought you were going to have more assistants, Miss
+Merington. Am I the only one?"
+
+"Yes; to tell you the truth, I didn't know of any other nice little girl
+whose 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 I
+can to help."
+
+"I'm sure you will. But now there's nothing more for you to do this
+morning, so skip along home and get a good rest; then be back here
+promptly at three o'clock this afternoon with all your mauve millinery
+on."
+
+"I don't wear a hat, Miss Merington!" exclaimed Midge, in dismay.
+
+"Of course not. I said millinery, meaning your ribbons and finery. I
+used 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-morning
+Mademoiselle Merington!"
+
+"You're a clever little thing," said Miss Merington; "and now run along
+home to Mother Maynard's mansion."
+
+Marjorie laughed at this sally, and started for home. But at Miss
+Frost's booth she found Gladys, and the two walked around the hall,
+looking at the other booths. They were very interesting, for each lady
+in charge had endeavored to get all the novel ideas possible for which
+her special initial could be used.
+
+X, Y, and Z had been declared impossible, but some clever girls had
+concluded it would be a pity to omit them, and said that they would
+combine the three in one booth. For X, which, they said, always
+represented "an unknown quantity," they had prepared some express
+packages. These contained merchandise of some sort, and had been sent
+through the express office, in order to give the proper appearance of
+expressed parcels. They were for sale at a price that was fair for their
+contents, and people were asked to buy them unopened, thus purchasing
+"an unknown quantity." Then there were yeast-cakes for sale; and toy
+yachts, marked "For Sail"; and yellow things of any kind; and zephyr
+garments, 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 booth
+served lemonade, and the C booth, candy and cakes.
+
+"Isn't it fun?" said Marjorie to Gladys, as at last they started
+homeward. "What are you going to wear, Glad? I don't know of any color
+that begins with F."
+
+"No," said Gladys. "Miss Frost says there's nothing but fawn-color, and
+that won't do. So we're all to wear white, with lots of _frills_. And
+we're to have feathers on our heads instead of ribbon bows, and we're to
+carry 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. But
+Father'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. "I
+never saw such a beautiful fair."
+
+"That's good, girlie; and now you must eat your luncheon and then lie
+down 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 old
+lady."
+
+Mrs. Maynard smiled at the bright face and dancing eyes, which certainly
+showed no trace of weariness.
+
+But after luncheon she said: "Now, Midget, you must go to your room, and
+lie down for half an hour. Close your eyes, and rest even if you do not
+sleep."
+
+Midget drew a long sigh, and walked slowly off to obey. She lay down on
+her own little white bed, but though she managed to close her eyes for
+nearly 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 own
+room. "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 more
+questions."
+
+"No'm. But, Mother, mayn't I get up now? I've been here nearly six or
+seven 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. It
+hasn't moved but a teenty, taunty speck in all these hours. What time is
+it 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 lie
+still on your couch, and I won't speak. I'll just look at you. You know
+you'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's
+doorway. "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 to
+the word; "and I'll put the afghan over me,--so; but I can't go to
+sleep--because I can't."
+
+"Well, shut your eyes, and try to go to sleep; and, at any rate, stop
+talking."
+
+"Yes'm; I'll try." Marjorie squeezed her eyes tightly shut, and in a
+moment 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, you
+know. Nobody can help that, can they?"
+
+"No; but they can't expect to be answered. So, talk in your sleep if you
+choose, 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 and
+stockings, you know. It would be such a help toward dressing to have
+that 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 move
+until 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 her
+mother's arms.
+
+Mrs. Maynard well understood the impatient young nature, and said no
+more about a nap.
+
+But at last the time came for Marjorie to start, and very sweet and
+dainty she looked in her mauve and white costume. She had never worn
+that color before, as it isn't usually considered appropriate for little
+girls, but it proved becoming, and her dancing eyes and rosy cheeks
+brightened up an effect otherwise too demure for a twelve-year-old
+child.
+
+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 had
+taken her place inside the booth, the people began to flock to the
+fair.
+
+Miss Merington looked lovely in a violet crepe-de-chine gown, which just
+suited her exquisite complexion and golden hair.
+
+She greeted Marjorie as a companion and fellow-worker, and Midge
+resolved to do her best to please the lovely lady. Somehow there seemed
+to be a great deal to do. As the afternoon wore on the M booth had a
+great many customers, and Miss Merington was kept so busy that Marjorie
+had to be on the alert to assist her. She made change; she answered the
+customers' questions; and sometimes she had to go to the department of
+supplies for wrapping paper, string, and such things. She was very
+happy, for Marjorie dearly loved a bustle of excitement, and the Bazaar
+was a gay place.
+
+After a time old Mr. Abercrombie came to the M booth. Marjorie hadn't
+forgotten the day they rode behind his sleigh, and she wondered if he
+would 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 like
+myself are fond of sweet things, you know. Have you any sweet cakes?"
+
+"Yes, sir," said Marjorie, and as Miss Merington was occupied with other
+customers 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 a
+statement 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 my
+mother says so. And, besides, I know these are good because I've had
+some of them myself."
+
+"You've proved your case," said the old gentleman. "But now I'll catch
+you! I'll buy your whole stock of macaroons if----"
+
+"If what, sir?" said Marjorie, breathlessly, for his suggestion meant a
+large sale, indeed.
+
+"If you can spell macaroons," was the unexpected reply.
+
+"Oh!" Marjorie gave a little gasp of dismay, for she had never had the
+word in her spelling lessons, and she didn't remember ever seeing it in
+print.
+
+"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 if
+possible, so she set her wits to work.
+
+It was confusing, for she was uncertain whether to say double c or
+double 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 the
+minute 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, and
+a good speller. I'll take all the macaroons you have."
+
+Greatly elated, Marjorie referred the sale to Miss Merington, and that
+lady was very much pleased when Mr. Abercrombie gave her a good-sized
+banknote, 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 more
+money to spend at this booth, for I've promised one or two other
+friends to buy some of their wares. But, Miss Rosycheeks, I'll tell you
+what I'll do."
+
+He looked at Marjorie so teasingly that she felt sure he was going to
+ask her to spell something else, and this time she feared she would
+fail.
+
+"I'll do this," proceeded Mr. Abercrombie: "I'll buy anything for sale
+at this booth that our young friend, the paragon speller, can _not_
+spell!"
+
+Marjorie's eyes sparkled. She wasn't really a "paragon speller," and she
+felt sure there must be something that was beyond her knowledge. But,
+somehow, all the things seemed to have simple names. Any one could spell
+mittens and muffs and mats. And though mandolin and marmalade were
+harder, yet she conscientiously realized that she could spell those
+correctly.
+
+"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," said
+Mr. Abercrombie, jocosely, as he jingled some silver in his pocket.
+
+"Oh, wait a minute!" cried Marjorie. "There's that handsome clock! Miss
+Merington said it's malachite, and I haven't the least idea how to spell
+that!"
+
+"Fairly caught!" said the old gentleman, chuckling at his own defeat. "I
+see by your honest eyes that you really don't know how to spell
+malachite, 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 I
+should not have to buy the most expensive article on your table.
+However, it will look well on my library mantel, and I shall rejoice
+whenever I look at it and remember that you know how to spell it."
+
+Marjorie smiled at this idea, and the queer customer paid to Miss
+Merington 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'm
+glad he took it. This will swell our fund finely."
+
+When it was supper-time, the Maynards and Fultons all went together to
+the restaurant in the R booth. They had a merry time, and Marjorie told
+the story of her "Spelling Lesson," as she called it.
+
+"You're a born merchant, Midge," said King. "You make money by knowing
+how to spell--and then you make money by not knowing!"
+
+"But such occasions don't happen often," said Mr. Maynard. "I think
+you'd better continue your spelling lessons for a few years yet. And
+now, as it's time for ice-cream, I'll try your friend's plan, Midget. If
+you can spell _Biscuit Tortoni_, you can have it!"
+
+"Thank you, Father," said Marjorie, smiling; "but I'd rather have
+vanilla and chocolate. They're easier to spell, and just as good to
+eat."
+
+After supper, the children had to go home. Marjorie looked back
+reluctantly at the brilliant hall, even more gay since the lights were
+burning, 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 little
+girl into bed that night, "I do hope that when I'm a grown-up young
+lady I'll be exactly like that lovely, sweet Miss Merington."
+
+"I'm thankful to say that your grown-up-young-lady days are yet far
+off," responded her mother; "but when that time comes I'll be quite
+satisfied 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 to
+her varied adventures. These stories are packed with excitement and
+interest 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 of
+goodness and sincerity. In her and her friends every girl reader will
+see 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 a
+little 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-date
+girls who have a common bond in their fondness for outdoor life,
+camping, travel and adventure. There is excitement and humor in these
+stories and girls will find in them the kind of pleasant associations
+that 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, while
+Margy, just out of business school, obtained a position as secretary and
+Rose, plain-spoken and business like, took what she called a "job" in a
+department store. The experiences of these girls make fascinating
+reading--life in the great metropolis is thrilling and full of strange
+adventures 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 flattering
+testimonials of her girl readers' interest in her stories. From a class
+of thirty comes a vote of twenty-five naming her as their favorite
+author. Perhaps it is the element of live mystery that Mrs. Garis always
+builds her stories upon, or perhaps it is because the girls easily can
+translate her own sincere interest in themselves from the stories. At
+any rate her books prosper through the changing conditions of these
+times, giving pleasure, satisfaction, and, incidentally, that tactful
+word of inspiration, so important in literature for young girls. Mrs.
+Garis prefers to call her books "juvenile novels" and in them romance is
+never 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 she
+herself is deeply interested in his mystery cases. Her interest involves
+her 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 the
+midst of adventure.
+
+
+THE HIDDEN STAIRCASE
+
+Mysterious happenings in an old stone mansion lead to an investigation
+by 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 extricate
+herself 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 surprising
+mystery.
+
+
+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 children
+includes a wide range of child interests--all the way from true tales of
+action to delightful stories of brownies and bunnies and fairies, and
+such 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 knows
+the kind of stories every girl wants to read--mystery of the "shivery"
+sort, adventure that makes the nerves tingle, clever "detecting" and a
+new lovable heroine, Judy Bolton, whom all girls will take to their
+hearts at once.
+
+
+THE VANISHING SHADOW
+
+Judy's safety is threatened by a gang of crooks who think she knows too
+much about their latest "deal." She is constantly pursued by a
+mysterious shadow which vanishes before she can get a glimpse of its
+owner.
+
+
+THE HAUNTED ATTIC
+
+The Boltons move into a large rambling house reputed to be haunted. Even
+the brave Judy who has looked forward to "spooky" goings on is
+thoroughly 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 Bolton
+household--the whole family becomes attached to her and interested in
+her story. Judy tracks down many clues before she finally uncovers the
+real identity of "Honey."
+
+
+SEVEN STRANGE CLUES
+
+Judy gets to the bottom of a mystery that centers around a prize poster
+contest and a fire in the school building--through seven baffling clues
+that 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 to
+boarding school on the Hudson River, several miles above New York. By
+her pluck and genial smile she soon makes a name for herself and becomes
+a leader in girl activities.
+
+Besides relating Polly's adventures at school these books tell of her
+summer vacations and her experiences in many different scenes. Every
+girl who loves action and excitement will want to follow Polly on her
+many 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 all
+girls like to meet in real life. There is Joyce Payton, known as Joy,
+who has a remarkable knowledge of gypsy customs. She is a universal
+favorite among girls. Then, too, there is Pam, Joy's partner in
+adventure, and Gypsy Joe, the little Romany genius who has a magical
+fiddle--and we mustn't forget Gloria, a city bred cousin and spoiled
+darling who feels like a "cat in a strange garret" with Joy and her
+friends.
+
+    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 parents
+have sailed for Japan, and she is sent to visit her numerous relatives.
+Of course, she meets many new friends during her travels. With some of
+them she is quite happy, and with others--but that's all in the stories.
+However, any difficulty she encounters is soon overcome by her clever
+brain, 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 unusual
+turns. Every reader interested in aviation will be thrilled to follow
+the strange adventures of Ruth Darrow in her racing monoplane, the
+Silver Moth. Aided by her chum, Jean Harrington, and her loyal friend,
+Sandy Morland, Ruth takes part in an exciting air race and solves many a
+baffling 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 occupy
+the old corner house left to them by a rich bachelor uncle will appeal
+to all young girls. They contain all the elements which delight youthful
+readers--action, mystery, humor and excitement. These girls have become
+the 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).|
++--------------------------------------------------------------+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Marjorie's Busy Days, by Carolyn Wells
+
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