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The Project Gutenberg Etext of Brother and Sister, by Josephine Lawrence

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Title: Brother and Sister

Author: Josephine Lawrence

Release Date: December, 2003 [Etext #4784]
[This file was last updated on March 18, 2002]

Edition: 10

Language: English

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BROTHER AND SISTER

BY JOSEPHINE LAWRENCE

AUTHOR OF
"BROTHER AND SISTER'S SCHOOLDAYS"
"BROTHER AND SISTER'S HOLIDAYS"

BROTHER AND SISTER SERIES

BY JOSEPHINE LAWRENCE

1. BROTHER AND SISTER
2. BROTHER AND SISTER'S SCHOOLDAYS
3. BROTHER AND SISTER'S HOLIDAYS





BROTHER AND SISTER





CONTENTS


   I. THE MORRISONS
  II. GRANDMA HASTINGS
 III. SISTER IN MISCHIEF
  IV. PARTY PREPARATIONS
   V. DICK'S BUTTONS
  VI. RALPH'S PRESENT
 VII. MORE PRESENTS
VIII. THE PARTY
  IX. OUT IN THE BARN
   X. THE HAUNTED HOUSE
  XI. JIMMIE'S SURPRISE
 XII. A LITTLE SHOPPING
XIII. A BIG DISAPPOINTMENT
 XIV. TWO IN TROUBLE
  XV. TROUBLE AGAIN
 XVI. MISS PUTNAM COMPLAINS
 XVII. MAKING UP WITH JIMMIE
XVIII. MICKEY GAFFNEY
  XIX. A VERY SICK DOLL
   XX. PLANS FOR MICKEY
  XXI. BROTHER AND SISTER PAY A CALL
 XXII. MICKEY OWNS UP





BROTHER AND SISTER





CHAPTER I

THE MORRISONS


"Brother," said Mother Morrison, "you haven't touched your glass
of milk. Hurry now, and drink it before we leave the table."

Brother's big brown eyes turned from his knife, which he had been
playing was a bridge from the salt cellar to the egg cup, toward
the tumbler of milk standing beside his plate.

"I don't have to drink milk this morning, Mother," he assured her
confidently. "Honestly I don't. It's raining so hard that we can't
go outdoors and grow, anyway."

Louise, his older sister, said sharply. "Don't be silly!" but
Ralph, who was in a hurry to catch his train, stopped long enough
to give a word of advice.

"Look here, Brother," he urged seriously, "better not skip a
morning. Your birthday is next week, isn't it? Well, if you're not
tall enough by Wednesday morning, you can't have the present I
bought for you last night. Too short, no present--you think it
over."

He stooped to kiss his mother, tweaked Sister's perky bow of hair-
ribbon, and with a hasty "Good-bye" for the others at the table,
hurried out into the hall. They heard the front door slam after
him.

Spurred by Ralph's mysterious hint, Brother drank his milk, and
then the Morrison family scattered for their usual busy day.

Brother and Sister were left to clear the breakfast table. They
always did this, carrying out the dishes and silver to Molly in
the kitchen. Then they crumbled the cloth neatly. Molly declared
she could not do without them.

"What do you suppose Ralph is going to give you?" speculated
Sister, carefully folding up the napkin Louise had dropped, and
slipping it into the white pique ring embroidered with an "L."
"Maybe it's a train?"

"No, I don't believe it's a train," said Brother slowly, crumbling
a bit of bread and beginning to build a little farm with the
crumbs. "No, I guess maybe he will give me a tool-chest."

"Come on, and bring the bread tray," suggested Sister practically.
She never forgot the task in hand for other interests. "Mother
says we mustn't dawdle, Roddy, you know she did. It's my turn to
feed the birds, so I'll crumb the table. Could I use your saw if
you get a tool-chest?"

Brother answered dreamily that he supposed she could. He watched
Sister and her crumb-brush sweep away his nice little bread-crumb
fences, while he planned to build a real fence if Ralph's present
should turn out to be the long-coveted tool-chest.

When Sister had swept up every tiny crumb, she and Brother went
out to scatter the bits of bread to the birds who, winter and
summer, never failed to come to the back door and who always
seemed hungry.

This morning there were robins, starlings, a pair of beautiful big
blue jays, and, of course, the rusty little sparrows. Each bird
seemed to be pretending to the others that he was looking for
worms, and each one slyly watched the Morrison back door in hopes
that two small figures would presently come out and toss them a
breakfast of breadcrumbs.

Sister flung her crumbs as far as her short arm would send them,
and managed to hit an indignant old starling squarely in the eye.
He glared at her crossly.

"Birds don't mind getting wet, do they?" said Brother, as the
sparrows hopped about in the driving rain and pecked gratefully at
the crumbs. "Let's hop the way they do, Betty."

Sister obediently hopped, looking not unlike a very plump little
robin at that, with her dark eyes and bobbing curls. Only, you
see, she and Brother were much heavier than any birds, and they
made so much noise that Molly came to the door to see what they
were doing.

"Another rainy day and the two of you bursting with mischief!" she
sighed good-naturedly. "Will you be quiet for an hour if I let you
make a dough-man while I'm mixing my bread?"

Brother and Sister loved to make dough-men, and so while Molly
kneaded her bread, they worked busily and happily at the other end
of the table, shaping two men from the bit of sponge she gave them
and quite forgetting to scold about the unpleasant weather which
kept them indoors.

Their real names, you must know, were Rhodes and Elizabeth
Morrison. Rhodes was six, and Elizabeth five, and sometimes they
were called "Roddy" and "Betty," but most always Brother and
Sister.

This was partly because they were so many Morrisons.

There was Daddy Morrison, who was a lawyer and who went to town
every morning to a busy office that seemed, to Brother and Sister,
when they visited him, to be all papers and typewriters.

There was dear Mother Morrison, who was altogether lovely, with
brown eyes like Brother's, and dark curly hair like Sister.

There were Louise and Grace, the twins; they were fifteen and went
to high school, and were very pretty and important and busy.

Then there was Dick, the oldest of them all, and Ralph, who went
to law school in the city, and Jimmie, who was seventeen and the
captain of the high school football team.

Counting Brother and Sister, seven children, you see, and as Molly
truly said, "a houseful." Molly had lived with Mother Morrison
since Louise and Grace were babies, and they would not have known
what to do without her. She was as much a part of the family as
any of them.

The Morrison house was a big, shabby, roomy place with wide, deep
porches and many windows. There was a large lawn in front and an
old barn in back where the older boys had fitted up a gymnasium
with all kinds of fascinating apparatus, most of which Brother and
Sister were forbidden to touch.

The Morrisons lived in Ridgeway, a thriving suburb of the city,
where Daddy Morrison, Dick and Ralph went every day.

And now that you are introduced, we'll go back to Brother and
Sister making dough-men in Molly's kitchen.

"What makes my dough-man kind of dark?" inquired Sister, calling
Molly's attention to the queer-shaped figure she had pieced
together.

Sure enough Sister's dough-man, and Brother's, too, was a rather
dark gray, while the bread Molly was mixing was creamy white.

Mother Morrison, coming into the kitchen carrying Brother's
rubbers and raincoat, saved Molly an explanation.





CHAPTER II

GRANDMA HASTINGS


"Where are you going Mother?" asked Brother, when he saw the
rubbers.

"I'm not going out," smiled Mother. "You are going for me, dear.
These are your rubbers and coat--hop into them and run across the
street to Grandma's with this apron pattern."

"Will you bake my dough-man, Molly?" begged Brother, struggling
into his coat and taking the small parcel Mother gave him. "Is
Betty coming?"

"Not this time," answered his mother. "It is raining too hard.
Yes, Molly will bake your dough-man and you may eat him for lunch.
Run along now."

Grandmother Hastings lived almost directly across the street from
the Morrison house and she was putting her beautiful Boston fern
out to get the rain when Brother tramped sturdily up her side
garden path.

"Bless his heart, he's a regular little duck!" cried Grandma,
giving him a tremendous hug.

That is the way grandmothers are, you know, whether they live
across the street from you and see you every day, or whether they
live miles away and come to visit you Christmas and summer times.
A grandmother is always glad to see you.

Grandmother Hastings was short and plumpy and her white hair was
curly and her eyes were blue. She had pink cheeks and wore a blue
dress and a white apron with a frilly bib, and altogether, Brother
thought privately, she looked very nice indeed.

"I'm very glad to get that pattern," she told him, patting the
long leaves of the fern and spreading them out to catch the rain.
"I've a magazine you can take back to Mother, dearie, and an old
fashion book Sister will like for paper dolls. Come into the
sitting-room while I find them for you. Take off your rubbers,
child."

Brother followed her into the house and there Aunt Kate swooped
upon him and tickled him as she always did. Aunt Kate was a school
teacher. In summer she tutored backward pupils. She was on her way
to give a lesson now and in a few minutes she went away merrily
into the driving rain. That left Grandmother and Brother to
entertain each other.

"Do you know what Ralph is going to give me for a birthday
present, Grandmother?" Brother asked, dropping flat on his stomach
to play jungle with the tigerskin that lay before the fireplace.
"He says if I'm not tall enough I can't have it. But he's bought
it all ready--he said so."

Brother, you see, would be six years old in a few days. He
couldn't help thinking a great deal about his birthday.

Grandmother and Brother had no secrets from each other, though
sometimes they planned surprises for the other members of the
family.

"No, I don't know what Ralph plans to give you," admitted
Grandmother. "Don't try to find out, dearie. It is much nicer to
be surprised. Why, you know you wouldn't have a bit of fun next
Wednesday if you knew what your presents were to be."

Brother was willing to be surprised, because Wednesday wasn't so
long to wait. Still he thought he would like to know what Ralph's
present was. Ralph was his dearest brother, and he had a happy
knack of always giving Brother and Sister exactly what they
wanted. Louise and Grace were apt to make them presents which were
useful, like pretty socks and hair-ribbons for Sister, and gloves
and handkerchiefs for Brother, but Ralph never did anything like
that.

"I've dropped a stitch in my knitting," said Grandmother suddenly.
"Brother, I wonder if you could run upstairs and bring me my
glasses? I think they are on the bureau in my room."

Brother ran upstairs and went into Grandmother's pretty bedroom.
There were white and silver things on her bureau and a little gold
jewel box and several bottles of different colors. But, though
Brother looked carefully, he could not find the glasses.

He went out into the hall.

"Oh, Grandma!" he called. "Your glasses aren't on the bureau."

"Dear, dear," sighed Grandmother. "'Let me see, where can they be?
Do you know, Brother, I'm afraid I have left them in my black silk
bag on the closet shelf. Can you get it, or shall I come up?"

"I can get it," answered Brother confidently. "You wait, Grandma."

The closet shelf was pretty high, but Brother carried a chair to
the closet door and by standing on it he was able to reach the
shelf. Goodness, what was more, he could see the things on the
shelf.

And they were bundles!

One--two--three--Brother counted three mysterious paper bundles,
tied with brown string.

Now you know if you had a birthday due most any minute and your
head was full of the presents you hoped to receive, and you saw
three bundles on the shelf in your grandma's closet, you know you
would probably do just what Brother did; poke your finger into the
top bundle. Brother poked. Then he prodded. The top bundle slipped
and carried the other two with it. Brother was brushed off the
chair and three bundles and one boy landed in a heap on the floor.

"Brother!" cried Grandma, who had come up to see what kept him so
long. "Are you hurt?"

"No'm," answered Brother, rather foolishly. "I was just feeling
these bundles, Grandma, to see--to--see----"

"Whether they were birthday presents?" smiled Grandma. "Well,
dearie, they are nothing but blankets tied up to send to the
cleaners. I'm glad, for your sake, they were, for you might have
hurt yourself, otherwise, as it is, they were soft and thick for
you to fall on."

"I'll get the glasses now," murmured Brother hastily.

He climbed up on the chair again and this time found without any
trouble the black bag which held Grandma's glasses.

"Mother is waving a handkerchief--that means she wants you," said
Grandmother, glancing from the window. "Scoot along, dear, and
don't think too much about the birthday till it comes. Here are
the magazines. And here's a drop-cake for you."

Brother paddled down the steps, went halfway to the front hedge,
and then turned.

"Oh, Grandma!" he shouted. "Do you know what I think Ralph is
going to give me? I think it's a tool-chest!"





CHAPTER III

SISTER IN MISCHIEF


"I hope it's like this to-morrow!"

Brother stood on the front porch, flattening his nose against the
screen door and sniffing the fragrant June sunshine.

Ever since his unsuccessful attempt to find out from Grandma
Hastings what Ralph's present was to be, it had rained. That was
three days ago, so you may be sure the whole Morrison family were
very glad to see the sun again. Especially as the very next day
was Brother's birthday.

"Brother, I'm going down town to buy the favors for your party,"
announced Louise, who sat in the porch hammock crocheting a
sweater. "Wouldn't you like to go with me?"

Brother thought he would.

"Take me?" begged Sister, falling over the small broom she
carried, in her eagerness to be one of the party. "It's my turn,
Louise, honestly it is."

"Well, you see, I can't very well take you both," explained Louise
kindly. "Mrs. Adams is going to call for me with her car, and it
wouldn't be polite to ask her to take two children; and as it is
Brother's birthday, he ought to be the one to go--don't you think
so?"

Sister nodded, though her lower lip trembled suspiciously. And
when Mrs. Adams drove her shiny automobile up to the curb, and
Louise and Brother were whisked away in it, two big tears rolled
down Sister's round cheeks.

"Why, honey!" Grace, the other twin sister, swinging her tennis
racquet, came through the hall and saw the tears. "What you crying
for?" she asked. "Everyone gone and left you? I'll tell you what
to do--you go out in the kitchen and take a peep at what is on the
table and you won't feel like crying another moment."

"What is it?" asked Sister cautiously.

She wasn't going to stop crying and then find out she had been
cheated.

"You go look," answered Grace mysteriously.

So sister started for the kitchen and Grace ran off to her game of
tennis with Jimmie.

The kitchen was in perfect order and very quiet. Molly was
upstairs making the beds, and Mother Morrison was planning the
party with Grandmother Hastings.

"Oh!" said Sister softly as she saw what was on the table. "Oh,
my!"

For right in the center of the white-topped table, on a large pink
plate, perched Brother's birthday cake! It was a beautiful cake,
perfectly round and very smooth and brown.

"But the icing!" said Sister aloud. "There's no ICING! I s'pose
Molly didn't have time."

If Sister had stopped to think, she would have remembered that all
the birthday cakes Molly made--and she made seven every year for
the Morrisons, and one for Grandmother Hastings--were always iced
with pink or white or chocolate icing.

But, you see, she didn't stop to think, and when she discovered a
bowl of lovely creamy white stuff on the small table between the
windows, this small girl decided that she would ice the cake and
save Molly the trouble.

There was a little film of water over the top of the bowl, but
Sister took a wooden spoon and stirred it carefully, and the water
mixed nicely with the white stuff, so that she had a bowl filled
with the smoothest, whitest "icing" any cook could ask for.

"I'll get a silver knife to spread it with," said Sister, who had
often watched Molly, and knew what to do.

She brought the knife from the dining-room and had just put one
broad streak of white across the top of the cake when Molly came
down the back stairs and saw her.

"Sister!" cried Molly. "What are you doing with my cold starch?"

"I'm icing the cake," answered Sister calmly. "You forgot it, I
guess."

Poor Molly grabbed the bowl from Sister's hands.

"Can't I leave the kitchen one minute that you don't get into
mischief?" she scolded. "This isn't ICING--it's STARCH for Mr.
Jimmie's collars. I'm going to make a beautiful chocolate icing
for the cake this afternoon and write Brother's name on it in
white frosting."

"Oh!" said Sister meekly.

"Go on upstairs, do," Molly urged her. "I've my hands full today
getting ready for the party; can't you find something nice to do
upstairs?"

Thus sped on her way, Sister reluctantly mounted the stairs to the
second floor.

"I could play jacks with Nellie Yarrow," she said to herself.
"Only she's lost her jackstones and I can't find mine. What's that
on Dick's bureau?"

Ralph and Jimmie roomed together, but Dick had a room of his own,
and though Sister was strictly forbidden to meddle with his
things, they had a great attraction for her. She could just see
the top of Dick's chiffonier from the floor and now she dragged a
chair up to it and climbed up to see what the shining thing was
that had caught her eye.

It was a gold collar button, and Dick, she found, had a box of
pearl and gold buttons that Sister was sure she had never seen
before. She played with them, tossing them up and down and
watching them glitter, until a sudden thought struck her.

"They'd make lovely jackstones," she whispered. "I could use 'em
and put them right back. I know Nellie has a ball."

Dick had several new ties, and Sister had to admire these before
she could leave the chiffonier. Finally she slipped the box of
pretty buttons in her pocket and jumped down. She put the chair
where she had found it, and ran downstairs and through the hedge
that separated the Morrison house from that of Dr. Yarrow's.

"Nellie, oh, Nellie!" called Sister. "Come on, let's play
jackstones."

"Haven't any," answered Nellie Yarrow, a little girl a year or so
older than Sister. "All I have left is my ball."

"Well, get that and we can play," Sister told her. "I've found
something we can use--see!"

Nellie admired the collar buttons immensely and thought it would
be great fun to play with them. She ran and got her ball and the
two little friends sat down on the concrete walk to play
jackstones, heedless of the hot morning sun.

Sister had won one game and Nellie two, when they heard Louise
calling.

"Sister! Sister! Where are you? If you want to help fix the
fishpond, you'll have to come right away."

Sister stuffed the buttons in her pocket and ran home, eager to
see what Louise and Brother had bought.





CHAPTER IV

PARTY PREPARATIONS


When Mother Morrison had suggested a fishpond for the party,
Louise and Grace had protested.

"Oh, Mother!" they cried. "That's so old!"

"But the children like it," said Mother Morrison mildly.

"It's fun," urged Brother. "It's fun to fish over the table and
catch something!"

Sister, too, had asked for the pond, so it was decided to have
one. Louise and Grace might not care for such things at their
birthday parties, but this, as Sister said, was "different."

"We bought bushels and bushels," Brother informed Sister as she
bounded through the hedge and up to the front porch. "Little
colored pencils, and crayons, and games, and dolls, and oh!--
everything!"

Louise, whose shopping bag was certainly bulging with parcels,
laughed merrily.

"We bought all the little gifts for the fish-pond and for the
--there! I almost told you." She clapped her hand over her mouth and
laughed again.

"For the what?" teased Sister. "Tell me, Louise--I won't tell."

"No, Mother said no one was to know," declared Louise firmly. "Now
all these packages you may open, and after lunch I'll help you tie
them up again and fix the pond. But these other parcels go
upstairs to Mother's room and no one is to touch them."

She tumbled half the contents of her bag on the porch floor and
then ran upstairs with the rest.

"Let's look at them," said Sister eagerly. "What's the matter,
Roddy?"

"I was thinking," explained Brother, making no move to open the
packages. "We saw a little boy down town and his foot was all tied
up in a rag, and I know it hurt him 'cause he limped."

"Maybe he sprained his ankle," said Sister. "Like Dr. Yarrow's
cousin, you know."

"It wasn't his ankle--it was his foot," insisted Brother. "And I
told Louise Mother said we mustn't go on the ground without our
sandals, and she said she guessed the boy didn't have any sandals;
she said he prob'bly didn't have any shoes, either."

"Nor any stockings--just rags?" asked Sister in pity. "I like to go
barefoot, Roddy, but I like my new patent leather slippers, too."

"Maybe he has some for Sunday," comforted Brother, trying to be
hopeful. "Everybody has to wear shoes on Sunday."

"Yes, of course they do," agreed Sister, who had never heard of a
boy and girl who didn't wear shoes on Sunday and every day in the
week except when they were allowed to go barefoot as a great
treat.

The tempting packages were not to be forgotten one moment longer,
and they decided to "take turns" opening them.

"Isn't it fun!" giggled Sister. What do you s'pose Mother is going
to make you, Roddy?"

"I don't know," replied Brother absently. "I keep thinking about
Ralph's present. He says that he thinks I'll be tall enough to
have it by tomorrow."

"Did you drink all your milk for breakfast?" asked Sister
anxiously.

Ralph was most particular about the children's milk. He insisted
that they couldn't grow properly without enough milk, and as both
were anxious to grow tall, Brother and Sister usually drank their
milk without fussing.

Brother had finished his to the last drop that morning, he said,
and when they were called in to lunch presently, he drank another
glass so that he would surely grow enough to please Ralph.

"And now we'll do up the fishpond presents," said Louise, when
they had finished lunch.

She and Grace both helped, for Mother Morrison was busy in the
kitchen with Molly, and of course none of the brothers were home
during the day except Jimmie, and he was usually busy out in the
barn where the gymnasium was.

You have probably "fished" in a fishpond yourself at parties, and
know what it is. Little gifts are placed somewhere out of sight,
and each small guest is given a fishing rod and line with a hook
at the end. He dangles this over the back of a sofa, or over a
table, and when he draws it up there is a "fish," or the present,
attached to it.

Louise had plenty of nice white paper and pink string, and each
gift was carefully wrapped and tied. Dark blue crepe paper was
tacked around three sides of a table and this table placed across
one corner of the parlor. This was the "ocean." The presents were
placed on the floor back of the table, and Brother and Sister
knew, from past pleasant experience, that when it came time to
fish, the packages would obligingly attach themselves to the
hooks.

"Tomorrow's ever so long off," sighed Brother, when the fishpond
was ready and Louise and Grace had gone over to the library to
take back some books.

He and Sister were not wanted in the kitchen and they were asked
not to touch the clean white clothes spread out on the guest room
bed for them to wear to the party. There really did not seem to be
anything for them to do.

"Let's go out and watch for Ralph?" suggested Sister.

Ralph was the best loved brother, after all, though, of course,
the children loved Dick and Jimmie dearly. But no one was quite as
patient as Ralph, no one had time to read to them as often as he
did, no one told them stories without coaxing as Ralph did.

He and Dick came up the street from the station together this
night, and though Dick kissed Sister and said, "Hello, kid," to
Brother, he dashed into the house, while Ralph stayed to talk.

"Birthday tomorrow, Brother?" he asked teasingly, though he knew
very well that Brother would be six years old.

"Oh, Ralph!" Brother was so excited he nearly stuttered. "Ralph,
couldn't you tell me what the present is now? I'm just as tall,
and it's almost my birthday. Please, Ralph?"

Ralph swung Sister up and sat her on the fence-post.

"Well, I don't believe I could do that," he replied slowly. "Let's
see, did you drink your milk today without grumbling?"

"Yes, I did--didn't I, Sister?" said Brother eagerly.

"Yes," nodded Sister. "He drank all of his for lunch, too, Ralph,
and didn't spill any."

"That's certainly fine," praised Ralph. "I'm sure you've grown a
little bit every day, too. Well, Brother, I tell you what I'll do
--tomorrow morning I'll bring the present up to your room before
breakfast. How will that do?"

Brother was more excited than ever, and for once he was ready to
go to bed that night without a protest. He and Sister trailed
sleepily off upstairs, wishing for the morning to come so that
they might know what this mysterious present was.

They had two little white beds in the same room and they could
undress themselves very nicely if they helped each other with the
buttons. Mother Morrison usually came up before they were ready
for bed, and on bath nights she always came up with them and
stayed till they were in bed.

The night before a birthday party was, of course, a bath night,
and Sister was very willing to let Brother take his bath first
because she had a picture book she wanted to look at. She was
lying on her bed, in her nightie, looking at the pictures while
Brother splashed in the tub and Mother Morrison waited for him to
stop playing and use the soap to lather himself, instead of
pretending it was a boat, when Dick knocked on the door.

"Look here!" he said, opening it and thrusting in his head. "Have
either of you kids been in my room today?"

"How nice you are!" cried Sister, sitting up to look at Dick, who,
indeed, did seem very nice, though he was without his coat.

"I'm twenty minutes late now," growled Dick. "I've hunted
everywhere for my collar buttons and studs, and I can't find
them."





CHAPTER V

DICK'S BUTTONS


Before Sister could say anything, in pranced Brother, very pink
and clean from his hot bath and treading on his gray bathrobe at
every other step.

"Have you been meddling with my things again?" demanded Dick.
"Mother, I've an engagement at eight o'clock and it's quarter past
now; every blessed collar button is gone from my chiffonier!"

Mother Morrison, who had followed Brother into the room, looked
anxiously at him.

"Brother, you haven't been in Dick's room today, have you?" she
asked him.

Then Sister, whose memory had been waking up, spoke.

"Please, Dick," she said in a very little voice. "Please, I had
the buttons."

"Oh, you did!" Dick quite forgot to smile at her. "What did you
want 'em for? Where are they now?"

"You see, I was playing jackstones with Nellie Yarrow, and
afterward I--I left them in my pocket--" Sister's voice trailed
off.

She recollected that the dress she had been wearing was now down
the laundry chute.

"Mother, something's got to be done!" fumed Dick. "I can't have
the kids going through my stuff and helping themselves to whatever
they want; those buttons were my solid gold ones and my good studs
were in the same box. There's the telephone!--Nina will be furious!
Sister, where did you say that dress was?"

Dick rushed downstairs to answer the telephone, leaving a
sorrowful Sister curled up in a forlorn little heap on the bed.

"My blue dress is way down in the laundry," she wailed. "The
buttons are in the pocket. Oh, Mother, it's awful far down there,
and it's dark on the stairs!"

"What's all the racket about?" inquired Ralph, coming to the door.
"Is Sister crying? And Dick is trying to smooth down Nina Carson,
who seems to be in a bad way. Want any help with these young ones,
Mother? Anyway, tell a fellow the cause of the excitement."

Sister smiled through her tears. "Young ones" was what Molly's
country sister had once called them, and Ralph always said it when
he meant to make her laugh.

"I really think Sister should go down and get the buttons from her
dress pocket," said dear Mother Morrison decidedly. "I have
forbidden her, time and again, to touch anything in Dick's room.
Take your kimona and slippers, Sister, and hurry; I'll have your
bath ready for you when you come back."

More tears ran down Sister's round cheeks. Her eyes were so full
of salt water she couldn't find the armholes of her pink kimona,
and Ralph had to help her.

"I'll go with her, Mother," he offered. "I'll sit on the stairs
and wait while she hunts for the buttons; and after this you--will
leave Dick's things alone, won't you, Sister?"

Sister promised joyfully, and paddled off downstairs with Ralph.
The dark stairs that led to the laundry didn't frighten her one
bit, and while Ralph sat on the last step and held the door open,
Sister snapped on the light and found the blue dress on top of the
basket that stood under the chute. Surely enough, the buttons were
in the pocket just as she had left them. She took the box and
hurried back to Ralph. "Where's Dick going?" she asked him, as
they went upstairs.

"Oh, out somewhere, to see some girl," replied Ralph, who seldom
went to call on a girl. "Scoot now, Sister--I'm going out on the
porch and read. You've made poor old Dick half an hour late as it
is."

Ralph went out on the screened front porch, where Daddy Morrison
was reading beside the electric lamp, and had just picked up his
magazine, when there was a patter of little feet and Sister threw
her arms around him breathlessly.

"I love you, Ralph!" she said quickly, hugging him and then
turning to run.

"Here, here!" cried Daddy Morrison in surprise. "Thought you were
in bed long ago. Don't I get any kissing?"

"Mother is waiting to bathe me," explained Sister hurriedly, "and
Dick wants his collar buttons, so I have to go, Daddy."

Her father caught her as she rushed past him and gave her a quick
kiss.

"Sister!" called Mother Morrison. "Sister, are you coming?"

Sister, the box of buttons clutched tightly in her hand, ran
upstairs. Dick, glowering, met her at the top.

"For goodness' sake!" he ejaculated. "I'd about given up hope--and
if you ever touch one of my things again--"

"I won't!" promised Sister hastily. "Honest Injun, I won't. You
aren't mad, are you, Dick?"

Dick was wrestling with a stiff collar before the glass in the
hall.

"No, I'm not mad, but I shall be in a minute," he announced
grimly. "Don't stand there and watch me, please; you make me
nervous."

"Come and take your bath, dear," called Mother Morrison.

"Don't you hear Mother? What are you waiting for?" demanded Dick.

"Waiting for you to kiss me good-night," answered Sister
composedly.

Dick stared at her. Then he laughed.

"There!" he said, picking Sister up and kissing her soundly. "Now
will you leave me in peace, you monkey?"

Sister was satisfied and hurried off to her bathing. When she came
out of the bathroom, she found Brother sleepily waiting for her,
sitting up, in his bed.

"If you hear Ralph in the morning," he told her earnestly, "you
call me, 'cause I want to see my own birthday present before you
do."

"Can't I look at it if you're not awake?" asked Sister hopefully.

"No, you mustn't," said Brother firmly. "It's my birthday present,
and I want to see it first. Now you remember!"

Mother Morrison kissed them both, put a screen in another window,
for the night was warm, and snapped off the light. It was time for
Brother and Sister to be asleep.

"Roddy!" whispered Sister softly.

"Uh-huh?" came sleepily from Brother.

"Suppose I can't help looking when Ralph opens the door?"

Brother roused himself.

"You mustn't," he repeated. "It's my birthday. I wouldn't look
first if it was your birthday present. You can shut your eyes,
can't you?"

Sister sighed, and a big yawn came and surprised the sigh.

"Maybe he'll have it tied in a paper," she murmured hopefully.
"Then I can't see it"





CHAPTER VI

RALPH'S PRESENT


The sun rose bright and early on Brother's birthday morning. Not
any earlier than usual, perhaps, but it certainly woke Brother a
whole half-hour earlier than he usually opened his eyes.

Almost at the same moment that his brown eyes opened wide, and he
sat up in bed, Sister's dark eyes also opened wide and she sat up
in her little white bed.

"Oh!" she said, blinking. "OH, it's your birthday, Roddy! Many
happy returns of the day--and I have a present for you!"

She slipped out of bed and ran over to the chest of white drawers
that held her own possessions.

"You can play with them a little while and then you can eat 'em,"
she explained, returning with a flat, white box which she put on
Brother's lap.

The present proved to be a pound of animal crackers, of which
Brother was very fond, and Sister was telling him how she had
carefully picked out as many horses and elephants as she could--for
indulgent Grandma Hastings had bought several pounds of the
crackers, and allowed Sister to select the two kinds of animals
that were Brother's favorites--when they heard Ralph's quick step
in the hall.

"Here comes Ralph! Don't look!" commanded Brother hastily.

Sister promptly dived under the bedclothes, and when Ralph softly
opened the door--lest the children were still asleep--he saw Brother
staring eagerly toward him and a little lump in the middle of
Sister's bed.

"Well, young man, how does it feel to be six years old?" Ralph
asked merrily, putting down the basket he carried on the floor,
and coming over to Brother, who stood up to hug him.

"Just as nice," gurgled Brother, standing still to receive the six
"spanks" without which no birthday could be properly celebrated.

"Can I look yet?" asked a muffled voice meekly.

"Why, sweetheart, what have they done to you?" demanded Ralph in
amazement, uncovering a very warm and flushed little girl. "I
thought you were asleep, honey. Don't you feel well?"

"Oh, I feel all right," Sister assured him cheerfully. "Only I
promised Brother I wouldn't look at the present before he did."

"That's so, I did bring a present, didn't I?" said Ralph,
pretending to have forgotten. "Well, Brother, stand up while I
measure you once more; I must be sure that you are tall enough and
that means that you drank your milk every time without grumbling."

"Couldn't he grumble?" asked Sister, watching while Ralph stood
brother against the wall and made a tiny mark with a pencil. "You
never said he couldn't grumble, Ralph."

"Didn't I?" Ralph said. "Well, then, I should, because that is
very important. You will grow, you know, if you drink your milk
and grumble about it, but not half as fast as you will grow if you
drink the milk and make no fuss. That's true, Sister--I'm not
joking."

"I didn't grumble much, did I, Sister?" interposed Brother.
"Haven't I grown, Ralph?"

"Yes, I think you have--enough to have what I have brought you,"
returned Ralph cheerfully. "Here, now, tell me what you think of
this."

He stooped down and lifted the lid of the basket. Then he tipped
it over on one side and out rolled the fattest brown and white
collie puppy dog you ever saw!

"Oh! Oh! Oh!" shrieked Brother and Sister together. "What a
perfectly dear little puppy!"

"He's yours, Brother," said Ralph, smiling like the dear big
brother he was. "Yours to take care of and love, and to name."

"Hasn't he any name?" asked Brother, hugging the fat puppy, who
seemed to like it and tried to say so with his little red tongue.
"I don't know what to name a puppy dog."

"Call him 'Brownie,'" suggested Sister, down on her knees on the
floor, watching the dog with shining eyes. "I think that is a nice
name."

"So do I," agreed Brother.

"I do, too," said Ralph. "And now you must get dressed if you are
not to be late for breakfast; and I must go down now--I have to
take an earlier train in."

"Won't you come to the party?" begged Sister, as Ralph stood up to
go.

"Don't believe I'll be home in time," he answered. "But you can
tell me all about it and that will be almost as nice."

Mother Morrison came in to help them dress and she kissed Brother
six times because it was his birthday. He wore a new blue sailor
suit, and Sister put on her next-to-the-best hair-ribbon in his
honor.

"I like birthdays," sighed Brother, slipping into his seat at the
breakfast table and eyeing the little heap of bundles at his plate
with great delight. "Look at my puppy dog, Dick."

"Well, that is a nice pup," admitted Dick, putting down his paper.
"Have you named him yet?"

"Name's Brownie--Betty thought of it," replied Brother. "Can he
have cereal, Mother? And Daddy wrote on this box, didn't he?" The
little boy picked up a box wrapped in paper,

"Now just a minute," said Mother Morrison firmly. "The dog can't
eat at the table, dear; put him down until you have finished
breakfast. I don't want you to open the parcels, either, until you
have had your milk and cereal. But those two on top you may open
--they are from Daddy and Dick and they're going to leave in ten
minutes."

Brother opened the two packages eagerly. That from Daddy Morrison
was a little wooden block and a set of rubber type with an ink-
pad, so that Brother might play at printing. He knew his letters
and, if someone helped him, could spell a number of words. Dick's
parcel contained a little silver collar for the new puppy, so made
that it could be made larger for him as he grew.

"Oh, Dick!" Brother flung himself upon that pleased young man and
kissed him heartily. Somehow Brother seldom kissed Dick, although
he loved him dearly. "It's the nicest collar!"

"All right, all right," said Dick hastily. "Glad you like it.
Coming, Dad?"

Brother had to thank Daddy Morrison for his gift and kiss him
good-bye, and then the interrupted breakfast went on. As soon as
they had all finished, they gathered around Brother to watch him
open his birthday gifts.





CHAPTER VII

MORE PRESENTS


"With so many birthdays in one family, we must not give elaborate
or expensive presents ever," Mother Morrison had once said, and
she had made that a rule.

So Brother's presents, while representing a great deal of
beautiful love, were simple and mostly home-made.

Louise had made him an entire set of new sails for his ship
Swallow; Grace had cleverly painted and cut out a set of paper
soldiers, and set them in tiny wooden blocks so that they stood
upright; Jimmie's present was a set of little garden tools; Molly
brought in a gingerbread man, very wide and tall and most
handsomely decorated with pink sugar icing. And Mother Morrison
gave him a box of watercolor paints and a painting book.

Just as Brother had unwrapped the last of his gifts, dear
Grandmother Hastings hurried in. Under her arm she carried a large
square box, and her eyes twinkled as she set it down.

"For the birthday boy!" she said.

"A toolchest!" shouted Brother in delight. "Look, Grandma, Ralph
gave me a puppy!"

"I hope you said 'thank you!' just like that!" laughed
Grandmother, as Brother hugged her so tightly she could scarcely
get her breath. "Let me give you six kisses, dearie. Why, Brother,
what is the matter?"

"I never said 'thank you' at all," mourned Brother. "Did I,
Sister? And Ralph gave me such a nice puppy dog."

"But you can say 'thank you' tonight, can't he, Grandma?"
protested Sister loyally.

"Why, of course, dear. Don't worry, Brother--Ralph knew you were
very happy to have the doggie. Now come and tell me what you are
going to call him."

There were many things to be done to get ready for the party that
afternoon, and while Brother and Sister introduced Brownie to
their grandmother, the rest of the family scattered to their work.
Presently Grandmother Hastings declared she must run home and put
a lace collar on her best frock so that she could come to the
party, and Brother and Sister were left alone with the new
presents.

"Let's take Brownie out for a walk," suggested Sister. "Have you
fed him, Roddy?"

Brother shook his head. No, Brownie had had no breakfast.

"I wish I'd said thank you' to Ralph," worried Ralph's little
brother. "Maybe he won't come home to supper tonight, and I'll be
in bed when he comes."

"Telephone him," said Sister, stroking one of Brownie's velvet
ears.

"I don't know the name of the law school," objected Brother.

"Ask Daddy," promptly responded Sister. "He'll know."

The children knew the number of Daddy Morrison's big office in the
city, and both could telephone very nicely. The phone booth was
under the hall stairs and Brother knew no one in the house could
hear him when he took down the receiver.

"Please give me 6587 Main," he said politely, while Sister and
Brownie sat down on the floor to wait and listen.

Dick was in his father's office, and unless the person calling
asked for Mr. Morrison, senior, the switchboard operator gave them
Mr. Morrison, junior. That was Dick, who was named for Daddy
Morrison.

"Hello, hello!" came Dick's voice over the wire in answer to
Brother's call.

"I want Daddy," said Brother distinctly.

"Is that you, Brother?" asked Dick in surprise. "Did Mother ask
you to call him? Is anything wrong at home?"

"No, only I want to speak to him," said Brother impatiently.

"He's busy--if you are only trying to amuse yourself, I advise you
to stop it," answered Dick rather sharply. "You know you are not
supposed to use the 'phone, Brother."

"I guess I can talk to my father," asserted Brother indignantly.
"You tell him I want to speak to him, Dick Morrison!"

Dick apparently made the connection, for in another moment Brother
heard his father's voice.

"Yes, Son?" it said gently. "What can I do for you?"

"Oh, Daddy!" Brother spoke rapidly, his words tumbling over each
other. "I never said 'thank you' to Ralph for the puppy dog! An'
sometimes he doesn't come home to supper, and I don't see him till
tomorrow morning. I want to tell him how much I like Brownie, and
I don't know the name of the law school. Will you tell me so I can
ask 'Central' for the number and call Ralph up?"

There was a pause. Daddy Morrison was apparently thinking.

"I'll tell you, son," he said presently. "I do not believe Ralph's
school allows their pupils to be called from a class to answer the
telephone, so you had better not try that plan. But Ralph is
coming to the office this noon to go to lunch with Dick. You tell
Mother that I said you were to be permitted to telephone the
office at half-past twelve. In that way you'll catch Ralph here
and can say what you want to him. How will that do?"

"That's fine, Daddy!" replied Brother gratefully. "Thank you ever
so much--wait a minute, Daddy--"

"I'm just saying the good-bye," called Sister, who loved to
telephone.

"Good-bye, youngsters," said Daddy Morrison, laughing as he hung
up the receiver.

"Well, for goodness' sake, what are you two doing here?" demanded
Louise, coming through the hall with something hidden in her
apron. "Who said you could telephone? Whom did you call up?"

"Daddy," answered Brother serenely. "He said I could call the
office again at half-past twelve. What you got, Louise?"

"Secrets," said Louise mysteriously. "People with birthdays
shouldn't ask questions."

She hurried on toward the kitchen and in a few moments the
children heard her laughing with Molly.

"I think Brownie is hungry," insisted Sister. "Aren't you ever
going to feed him?"

"Of course he's hungry," chimed in Grace, who had overheard.
"There's a bowl of bread and milk Mother fixed for him before
breakfast, out on the back porch, with a plate over it to keep the
cats out. Take him out there and feed him, Brother."

Brownie was indeed very hungry and the children enjoyed watching
him eat the bread and milk Mother Morrison had fixed for him.
After he had eaten it all up, they took him out on the grass to
play, but that fat little brown puppy, instead of playing with
them, curled up and went to sleep.

"Never mind--here comes the party!" cried Sister, whose bright eyes
had spied a wagon turning into the drive.





CHAPTER VIII

THE PARTY


"The party" happened to be the ice-cream, and Brother and Sister
watched eagerly as the delivery boy carried the heavy wooden tub
in which the cream was packed, up the back steps.

"Going to have a party?" he smiled at them as he came back to his
wagon. "Have a good time!"

The pretty little notes of invitation, which Mother Morrison had
written to six boys and six girls, friends of Brother's and
Sister's, two weeks ago, had said from "four to six," so it was
time to dress in the best white clothes soon after lunch. Indeed,
Brother's collar bow was not tied before the doorbell rang, and
Nellie Yarrow arrived.

"I suppose she lived so far away, she thought she might be late,"
said Louise.

She ran downstairs and showed Nellie where to put the present she
had brought for Brother.

After that the other boys and girls came, one by one, and Brother
soon had a little pile of presents on the living-room table. He
opened each one, and said thank you to the child who had brought
it, and he forgot to be shy, so that he really enjoyed it all very
much.

Charlie Raynor and his sister, Winifred, were the last to come,
and Winifred was excited over something.

"I had the most awful time with Charlie!" she announced earnestly,
to sympathetic Mother Morrison. "He acted dreadful!"

Winifred was two years older than Charlie and felt responsible for
him.

"Give Roddy his present now," Winifred urged Charlie. "Hurry, I
tell you."

Silently Charlie held out a little paper bag of candy.

"I had all I could do to keep him from eating it on the way here,"
his sister explained. "He just loves candy!"

Brother took the bag of candy and put it with his other gifts on
the table. Then the children began the peanut hunt, which was the
first game Louise and Grace had planned for them.

This was played outdoors, and it was fully half an hour before all
the peanuts had been discovered. Then, as several of the girls
wanted to start the old, old game of "Going to Jerusalem," and
Grace offered to play the music, they all trooped back to the
living-room.

"Why, Roddy, your candy is gone!" announced Sister in surprise.
"When did you eat it?"

Brother came up to her where she stood by the table of presents.

"I didn't eat it," he said wonderingly. "I left it right there on
top of that book. Isn't that funny!"

"Well, it's gone," asserted Sister. "Someone ate it!"

Winifred had heard, and now she turned on the unfortunate Charlie.

"Charles Eldridge Raynor!" she said sternly. "Did you eat Roddy's
candy that you brought him? Did you?"

Charlie nodded miserably. He had slipped into the room, unnoticed
during the peanut hunt, and unable to longer withstand the
temptation, had calmly eaten up his birthday gift.

"I hope," stammered Winifred with very red cheeks, "I hope you
will excuse him, Mrs. Morrison. I never knew him to do such a
thing before!"

"Oh, it isn't anything so very dreadful," declared Mother
Morrison, smiling. "Any laddie with a sweet tooth might easily do
the same thing. Come, children, Grace is waiting to play for you."

They played "Going to Jerusalem" and "Drop the Handkerchief," and
all the time there was the mysterious fishpond back of the table!
But they could not fish till after they had had ice cream.

As they were playing a noisy game of "Tag" out on the lawn, Molly
came to the door to ask them to come into the dining-room.

Such a pretty table met their eyes! It seemed to be all blue and
white, and in the center was the big birthday cake--iced as only
Molly could ice it, and showing no trace of the starch Sister had
tried to cover it with. Six candles twinkled merrily on the top.

"Make six wishes, Brother," said Mother Morrison.

"Then he blows, and as many candles as he blows out he will have
wishes come true," explained Sister quaintly.

Brother made his wishes--they must not be spoken aloud--and then
took a deep breath.

Pouf! Three of the candles went out

"Three wishes!" shouted the children. "You'll have three wishes
come true!"

It was a lovely birthday supper. Everyone said so. They had
chicken sandwiches, and cocoa, and vanilla and strawberry ice-
cream, and of course the birthday cake, which Brother cut in
slices himself with the big silver cake knife.

"Why--look!" ejaculated Sister in surprise, glancing up from her
cake at the doorway.

Mother Morrison stood there, smiling, and in her hands she carried
what seemed to be a very large pudding or pie baked in a milk pan.

"What is it?" said Brother curiously. "What is it?"

"It's a secret," answered his mother mysteriously. "Grandmother
Hastings planned it for you."

"And you and Louise bought part of it," Grandmother Hastings
assured him, nodding and smiling from the other doorway, the one
that led into the hall.

She had come over, in her prettiest white and lavender gown, to
see the end of the party.

Mother Morrison came up to the table with the pie and the children
saw that the paper crust was full of little slits and that from
each slit a ribbon hung out. Some were blue and some were pink.

"Each girl must choose a blue ribbon," said Mother Morrison. "The
pink ones are for the boys. You pull first, Lucy."

Lucy Reed pulled one of the blue ribbons. She hauled out a little
celluloid doll dressed in a gay red frock.

"How lovely!" Lucy cried. "Do we all get something?"

Each child was eager to pull a ribbon, and, wasn't it strange?
--there were just enough ribbons to go round! After every one,
including Brother and Sister, had had his turn, the "crust" was
all torn, and not a single present or ribbon was left.

"Half-past five!" said Louise then, looking at her little wrist-
watch. "We must hurry with the fishing."

So they went into the living-room and had a delightful time
fishing in the pond back of the table. There was a gift for
everyone who fished, and when six o'clock struck, and it was time
to go home, each small guest had a package to take along.

"We've had the nicest time," they called to Mother Morrison as
they said good-bye. "We hope Roddy has a party every year."





CHAPTER IX

OUT IN THE BARN


"The party was a great success, eh?" asked Ralph at the breakfast
table the next morning. "I judged so, because it was one o'clock
before I could leave Dad's office to get some lunch. He and Dick
insisted on holding me there till quarter past."

Brother looked at Sister. Sister looked at Brother. They had both
forgotten they meant to telephone Ralph at half-past twelve!

"Don't worry over it, Brother," said Ralph, laughing. "No serious
harm was done, old chap. I made Dad tell me the mysterious reason
of the wait, and when you didn't 'phone in we all three concluded
the party had been too much for you. I'm glad you liked the dog."

"Oh, yes!" Brother seized upon this safe topic. "It is the nicest
dog, Ralph. And I did mean to say thank you,' only I forgot."

After Daddy Morrison and Ralph and Dick had gone off to the
station, Brother and Sister began to have queer feelings. Yes'm,
they both felt "somehow different," as Brother said.

"I don't want to clear off the table," complained Sister, drawing
pictures on the tablecloth with a fork, a practice which Molly had
always sternly forbidden.

"Neither do I," agreed Brother. "Let's go out in the barn and
play."

"Jimmie won't like it," suggested Sister, taking up a cup so
carelessly that some of the coffee left in it slopped over on the
clean cloth.

"Jimmie doesn't own the barn," sniffed Brother crossly. "I guess
we can just play in it without hurting any of his stuff."

"Here, here, what are you talking so long about?" demanded Molly
good-naturedly.

She came to the dining-room door and inspected the table
critically.

"Just as I thought," she said grimly. "Too much party yesterday!
Sister, give me that cup and stop marking the cloth. Run off and
play, both of you, till you get over being cross. I'd rather do
the work myself than listen to you grumble."

Thus dismissed, Brother and Sister wandered off to the barn. They
ought to have felt happy with the extra time for play, but, for
some reason, they were decidedly uncomfortable.

"Everybody's busy," grumbled Brother. "Nobody cares what we do.
Louise and Grace are sewing, and Mother is going to make
strawberry jam. Let's try the rings, Betty."

They were inside the old barn now, and the swinging rings had
always fascinated Sister. But she knew that Jimmie had said they
were not to touch them, and indeed Daddy Morrison had warned the
children not to play in the barn unless some of the older boys
were with them.

"It is really Jimmie's and Ralph's gymnasium," he had explained.
"They know how to use the apparatus, and you don't. When you are
older, Jimmie will teach you and you may play there all you wish."

Sister looked longingly at the rings when Brother suggested them.

"Where's Jimmie?" she asked cautiously.

"Up in his room studying," answered Brother confidently.

Jimmie had been "conditioned" in the June examinations, and now
spent part of every vacation day studying so that he might take
another test before school opened in the fall.

"All right," agreed Sister, assured that Jimmie was not likely to
walk in upon them. "How'll we get the rings untied?"

The rings were fastened up out of the way, tied to a nail on the
side wall, so that when not in use they did not take up any room.
Jimmie could reach this nail easily, but, of course, it was far
above Brother's head.

"I'll get the step-ladder," announced Brother confidently. "You
hold it for me."

The step-ladder was an old one and inclined to wobble. Brother
mounted it slowly, and Sister sat down on the lowest step to hold
it steady. Her weight was not enough to anchor the ladder, and it
still shook crazily when Brother reached the highest step and
stood on his tiptoes to reach the string that held the swings on
the nail.

"What are you kids up to now?" a voice asked suddenly.

It was Jimmie! He had come out to the barn to get a book he had
left in the corner cupboard.

Sister jumped to her feet, startled. Her elbow brushed the wobbily
ladder and over it went, carrying Brother with it. He was too
surprised to cry out.

"Are you hurt? Of all the crazy actions?" Jimmie scolded
vigorously as he rushed to his small brother's rescue.

Fortunately for him, Brother had landed on one of the heavy,
thick, quilted pads that were on the floor. The boys used them
when on the apparatus in case they fell. Brother was not hurt at
all, but he was frightened, and when Jimmie picked him up he was
crying bitterly.

"I've a good mind to tell Father," continued Jimmie, who, of the
three older boys, was less inclined to leniency with the
performances of Brother and Sister. "Next time you might be badly
hurt, and then it would be too late to punish you. Come here,
Sister."

Sister came reluctantly.

"What were you trying to do?" said Jimmie grimly.

"Trying to use the swinging rings," answered Sister meekly.

"There's nothing to do," wailed Brother forlornly. "Everybody's
busy and no one wants to play. And you don't own this barn, Jimmie
Morrison--so there!"

"Perhaps I don't," retorted Jimmie. "But Dad happens to have given
me the use of it. And you're going to stay out if I have to put a
padlock on the door. You've got all outdoors to play in--can't you
find something pleasant to do?"

"Betty! Roddy!" called Nellie Yarrow from her side of the hedge.
"Betty! Come on out, I want to tell you something."

Brother and Sister ran toward the door.

"Wait a second!" shouted Jimmie. "Turn around."

They looked back at him. He was smiling.

"No hard feelings?" he suggested.

Sister dimpled and Brother laughed.

"No hard feelings," they chuckled and ran on down to the hedge.

That was the way the Morrison family always smoothed out their
disputes. There was so many of them that they really could not be
expected to be always pleasant and never quarrel, but every
disagreement was, sooner or later, sure to end with the cheerful
announcement, "No hard feelings."

"I suppose they ought to have a place of their own to play in,"
said Jimmie to himself when the children had gone. "I wonder if--"

He had an idea which for the present he meant to keep to himself.





CHAPTER X

THE HAUNTED HOUSE


"Hello!" Nellie Yarrow greeted Brother and Sister. "What do you
think?"

"What?" asked Sister, apparently unable to think.

Nellie Yarrow pointed her finger as one having important news to
tell.

"The haunted house is rented!" she said, excitedly.

The "haunted" house was an object of curiosity to every child in
Ridgeway. It was a small, shabby brown shingled dwelling on one of
the side streets, and it was whispered that a man had once seen a
"ghost" sitting at one of the windows. That was enough. Ever after
no boy or girl would go past the house at night, if it were
possible to avoid it, and the more timid ran by it even in the day
time. Of course they should have known there are no such things as
"ghosts," but some of them didn't.

"Who is going to live in it?" asked Sister curiously. "Don't you
suppose they will be afraid?"

"Well, I wouldn't live in it," declared Nellie positively. "Some
folks don't care anything about ghosts, though. Let's go down and
watch 'em carry in the furniture."

Not many new families moved into Ridgeway during the year, and a
June moving was something of an event. The children found a little
group of folk watching the green van backed up to the gate. Two
colored men were carrying in furniture, and an old lady with her
head tied up in a towel was sweeping off the narrow front porch.

"Gee, she's got a parrot!" cried a ragged, redheaded little boy
who was trying to walk on top of the sharp pickets.

He was barefooted and the pickets were very sharp, so when the
moving--van man, having put down the parrot and its cage on the
porch, pretended to run straight toward him, the boy lost his
balance and fell. He was up in a moment and running down the
street as fast as though the furniture man were really chasing
him.

"Sister!" Brother spoke excitedly. "That's the little boy I told
you about. We saw him downtown, Louise and I, when we were buying
things for the fishpond for my birthday; remember? Only he didn't
have a rag on his foot today."

"He used to be in my class at school," said Nellie. "Oh, look at
all the boxes of books!"

Brother meant to ask Nellie what the redheaded boy's name was, but
she had danced out to the van to see how large it was inside, and
when she came back Brother had forgotten his question.

"My father says an old lady is going to live here," volunteered
Francis Rider, a freckle-faced lad of ten or twelve. "She lives all
by herself, and she doesn't like noise. Her name is Miss Putnam."

Neither, they were to learn, did Miss Putnam like company,
especially that of boys and girls.

When the last piece of furniture had been carried in, and the van
had driven creakingly off down the street, the old lady, with her
head tied in the towel, was seen approaching the fence.

"That's Miss Putnam," whispered Francis.

"Get off that fence!" cried Miss Putnam, brandishing her broom.
"Get off! I'm not going to have my fence broken down by a parcel
of young ones. Go on home, I tell you!"

The children scrambled down and scattered like leaves. Francis,
when he was a safe distance up the street, put out his tongue and
made a face at Miss Putnam. The old lady continued to stand by the
gate and shake her broom threateningly as long as there was a
child in sight.

"The Collins house is rented at last," said Daddy Morrison at the
supper table that night. "I came through there on my way home from
the station, and there was a light in the kitchen window. I wonder
who has taken it?"

"I know, Daddy," answered Louise quickly. "An aunt of Mrs. Collins
has rented it. She is a Miss Putnam and she makes lovely braided
rugs for the art and craft shops in the city. Sue Loftis told me."

"Well, she's cross as--as anything!" struck in Brother severely.
"She chased us all off her fence this morning; didn't she, Betty?"

"Yes, she did," nodded Sister. "And we weren't doing a thing 'cept
watch her move in. Francis Rider stuck out his tongue at her, and
she called him a 'brat.'"

Daddy Morrison glanced at her sharply.

"Don't let me hear of either of you annoying Miss Putnam in any
way, "he said sternly. "I know how children can sometimes, without
meaning it, bother an elderly and crochety person. Miss Putnam has
every right to keep her house and yard for herself, and if she is
'cross,' as you call it, that is her affair, too. My advice to you
youngsters is to stay away from the Collins house."

"Now will you be good?" said Ralph, catching Sister by her short
skirts as she attempted to slip past him as he sat in one of the
comfortable porch rockers.

The family had scattered after supper, and only Ralph and Jimmie
were on the front porch.

"The day after a party is always unlucky," observed Jimmie,
tweaking his little sister's hair-ribbon playfully. "You and
Brother have had more than your share of scolding today, haven't
you, Sister?"

To his surprise, and Ralph's, Sister's small foot in its patent
leather slipper and white sock struck at him viciously.

"Why, Elizabeth Morrison!" exclaimed Ralph, lifting the little
girl to his lap and holding her firmly there in spite of her
struggles. "I'm astonished at you. What are you kicking Jimmie
for?"

"Go way!" cried Sister furiously, as Jimmie tried to see her face.
"Go way--you're a mean, hateful boy!"

"Quit it!" commanded Ralph, giving her a little shake. "Stop
acting like this, Sister, or I'll take you in and put you to bed!"

Sister knew he was quite capable of doing this very thing and she
stopped struggling.

"Jimmie is just as mean!" she sobbed, burying her head in Ralph's
coat.

"What have I done?" demanded Jimmie, much surprised.

"You've gone and put a padlock on the barn door!" flashed Sister,
sitting up and drying her eyes.

Jimmie laughed, and Ralph laughed a little too.

"Well, I haven't locked the door for the reason you think,"
explained Jimmie kindly. "It isn't just to keep you and Brother
out, Sister. I'm making you something nice, and I don't want you
to see it until it is all finished."

"All right," conceded Sister graciously. "I thought maybe you
didn't want Brother and me to play in the barn."

"No hard feelings, then?" inquired Jimmie, holding out his hand.

And--"No hard feelings," admitted Sister, smiling after the "salt-
water shower."





CHAPTER XI

JIMMIE'S SURPRISE


The "haunted" house continued to be an attraction to the children
of the neighborhood even after Miss Putnam moved in, and the ghost
might reasonably be supposed to have moved out. Alas, it was Miss
Putnam herself who now supplied the thrills.

Miss Putnam, you see, had never had much to do with children, and
she thought she disliked them very much indeed. Boys, in her
opinion, made a great deal of noise and girls always giggled and
were silly. So whenever she saw a child hanging over her gate, or
even stopping to glance at her house, she was apt to come charging
out at them with a broom. The younger ones were afraid of her and
the older, larger boys naughtily enjoyed provoking the poor old
lady. So it was soon a common sight to see several boys flying up
the street, Miss Putnam after them, waving her broom wildly.

Brother and Sister, mindful of Daddy Morrison's warning, never
actually did anything to make Miss Putnam chase them. But it must
be confessed that they used to walk through the street on which
she lived, in the hope of seeing her chase someone. Ridgeway was a
quiet place in summer time, and any excitement was welcome.

For several days after Sister's outburst because of the locked
barn door, Jimmie worked away busily in his beloved gymnasium. He
would not let either Brother or Sister as much as put their noses
inside the door, and when they tried to find out from Molly what
he was doing--for Molly could usually be depended upon to know
what everyone in the family was up to--she simply shook her head
and said she had promised not to tell.

"I wish," said Sister for the tenth time one warm morning, "I wish
there was something new to do."

"So do I," agreed Brother. "There's Jimmie--he's beckoning to us."

Jimmie stood in the barn doorway, motioning the children to come
in.

Brother and Sister jumped down the three back steps in one leap
and raced toward the barn.

"Want to see what I've been making?" asked Jimmie proudly, "Come
on in, and look--there!"

The tools from the carpenter's bench which occupied one side of
the barn were scattered about on the floor where Jimmie had been
using them. All Brother and Sister could see was a wide, rather
shallow box, painted a dark green.

"Is it--is it a boat?" ventured Sister doubtfully.

"What's it for?" asked Brother.

"It's for you to play with," explained Jimmie. "I thought maybe
you would help me carry it out under the horsechestnut tree in the
side yard."

"But how do we play with it?" insisted Brother. "Is it a game,
Jimmie?"

"Put your hand in that bag back of you," directed Jimmie. "Perhaps
then you can guess."

A burlap bag, opened, stood close to Sister. She and Brother
plunged their hands in and drew them out filled with something
that trickled swiftly through their fingers.

"Sand!" they shouted. "Seashore sand! Oh, Jimmie, is it a
sandbox?"

Jimmie nodded, smiling. He knew they had long wanted a sandbox,
and like the dear, good brother he was, he had spent his mornings
sawing and fitting and smoothing off boards to make a nice, strong
box.

"What fun!" Sister bounced up and down with pleasure. "Can we play
with it right away?"

"Don't know why not," said Jimmie. "You two take one end, and
we'll carry it out under the tree. Mother thought that was the
best place because it will be shady most of the day for you."

They carried the box out to the tree, and then Jimmie brought the
bag of sand on the wheelbarrow and dumped it into the box.

"Just like the seashore!" beamed Brother. "Thank you ever so much,
Jimmie."

"Yes, thank you ever so much, Jimmie," echoed Sister, jumping up
and standing on tiptoe to kiss Jimmie. "It's the nicest box!"

Jimmie pretended that it wasn't much to do, but of course he was
very much pleased that his little brother and sister should be so
delighted. Big brothers often pretend that they don't want anyone
to make a fuss over the presents they give or the nice things they
do, but just the same they are secretly glad when their efforts
are appreciated.

"Here's fifty cents for each of you," announced Jimmie, pulling
some change from his pocket and handing two quarters to Brother
and a shiny half-dollar to Sister. "If Mother is willing for you
to go downtown you can get some sand-toys."

Mother Morrison was willing they should go if they would remember
to be careful about automobiles and if they would promise to be
back within an hour.

The Morrison house was not very near the section of Ridgeway which
contained the shops and stores, but the children often took the
long walk alone. There were no trolleys to be careful about,
except the one line that ran to the city, but the automobile
traffic was rather heavy and one had to remember to stop and look
both ways before crossing a street.

"Let's take Brownie with us," suggested Brother, when they were
ready to start out to spend their wealth. "We can carry him if he
gets tired."

The fat little collie puppy wagged his tail cordially. He loved to
go walking and felt that too often he was neglected when he should
have been invited. He always wore his silver collar, and Louise
had given Brother a little leather leash that could be snapped on
when he took the dog outside the yard.

"Want to go, Brownie?" asked Sister. "Want to go out?"

Brownie barked sharply. Indeed, he did want to go!

Brother and Sister took turns leading him, and before they had
gone very far they met Nellie Yarrow. She offered to go with them
and she was much interested to hear that there was a new sandbox
in the Morrison yard.

"I'll come over and play with you this afternoon," she promised.
"Let me lead Brownie, Roddy?"

Brother gave her the leash, watching her anxiously. Nellie was
sometimes careless with other people's property, he had learned,
though she was so generous with her own it was hard to refuse her
anything.

"Don't let him get away," he cautioned.

Nellie opened her mouth to say "I won't," when with a sudden jerk
Brownie tore the leather line from her hand and dashed into the
road.

"Here comes a big motor-truck!" screamed Sister. "Brownie will be
run over and killed!"





CHAPTER XII

A LITTLE SHOPPING


The foolish little puppy crouched down directly in the path of the
lumbering motor-truck. The children could feel the ground
quivering as the weight of the heavy wheels jarred at every turn.

Brother forgot that he had promised to be careful about
automobiles. He forgot that, bad as it would be for a motor-driver
to run over a puppy dog, it would be twenty times worse for him to
run down a little boy. He forgot everything except the fact that
his dog was in danger!

"Look out!" shrieked Nellie Yarrow. "Roddy, come back!"

A huge red touring car, filled with laughing girls, whizzed past
him, and after that a light delivery car that had to swerve
sharply to avoid striking him. As Brother reached the dog he
thought the motor-truck was going to roll right over him, and he
closed his eyes and made a grab for Brownie. When he opened them,
the truck was standing still, two wheels in the ditch, and three
men were climbing down and starting toward him.

"Are you hurt, Roddy?" cried Sister, skipping into the road,
followed by Nellie. "My, I thought that truck was going to run
over you sure!"

"Come out of the road, you kids!" ordered one of the men roughly,
pushing the three children not unkindly over in the direction of
the ditch. "This is no place to stand and talk--hasn't your mother
ever told you to keep out of the streets?"

The driver of the truck, who was a young man with blue eyes and a
quick smile, patted Brownie on the head gently.

"I saw the dog," he explained to Brother. "I wouldn't have run
over him, anyway. Next time, no matter what happens, don't you run
into the road. Cars going the other way might have struck you, and
I didn't know which way you were going to jump after you got the
dog. No driver wants to run over a dog if he can help it, and you
children only make matters worse by dashing in among traffic."

"I didn't mean to," said Brother sorrowfully. "Only I didn't want
Brownie to get hurt. I hardly ever dash among traffic, do I,
Sister?"

"No, he doesn't," declared Sister loyally, while Nellie stood
silently by. "Mother always makes us promise to be careful 'bout
dashing."

The three men laughed.

"Well, as long as you don't make it a practice, we won't count
this time," said the man who had told them not to stand talking in
the road. "Now scoot back to the sidewalk--or, here, George, you
take them over. That's a nice dog you have."

George, it proved, was the driver, and he took Sister by one hand
and Brother by the other. Nellie held Sister's other hand and
Brother carried Brownie, and in this order they made their way
safely back to the pavement on the other side of the street.

"Good-bye, and don't forget about keeping out of the street," said
the truck-driver cheerfully, when he had them neatly lined up on
the curb.

They watched him run back to his machine--as Brother observed, he
didn't look to see whether any motor-cars were likely to run him
down, but then, of course, he was grown up and used to them--saw
him mount to the high seat, and waved good-bye to all three men.
Then they walked on, for the sand-toys were still to be bought.

Brother and Sister were the most careful of shoppers, and with
Nellie to help them by suggestions, they managed to find a set of
tin sand-dishes, a windmill that pumped sand, a little iron
dumpcart that would be very useful to carry loads, and a string of
tin buckets that went up and down on a chain and filled with sand
and emptied again as long as anyone would turn the handle.

"Come over after lunch and we'll play," said Sister as Nellie left
them at her own hedge.

Nellie did come over and the three children had a wonderful time
with the new toys and the clean white sand, while Brownie slept
comfortably under the tree. Before Nellie was ready to go home,
however, a thunder storm came up and her mother called her to come
in. Mother Morrison came out and helped Brother and Sister to
carry their box into the barn, where the sand would not get wet.

"You don't want to play with the sandbox all the time, dearies,"
she said, leading the way back to the house. "If you play too
steadily with anything, presently you will find that you are
growing tired of it. Now play on the porch, or find something nice
to do in the house, and tomorrow Jimmie will put the box under the
tree again for you."

It was very warm and sticky, and Sister tumbled into the
comfortable porch swing, meaning to stay there just a few minutes.
She fell asleep and slept all through the storm, waking up a
little cross, as one is apt to do on a hot summer afternoon. The
rain had stopped and Brother had gone over to see Grandmother
Hastings.

"Hello, Sister," Louise greeted her when she raised a flushed,
warm face and touseled hair from the canvas cushions. "You've had
a fine nap. Want me to go upstairs with you and help you find a
clean dress?"

"No," said Sister a bit crossly.

"You'll feel much better, honey, when your face is washed and you
have on a thinner frock," urged Louise, putting down her knitting.
"Come upstairs like a good girl, and I'll tell you what I saw Miss
Putnam doing as I came past her house this afternoon."

Sister toiled upstairs after Louise, feeling much abused. She had
not intended to take a nap, and now here she had slept away good
playtime and was certainly warmer and more uncomfortable than she
had been before she went to sleep.

But after Louise had bathed her face and hands in cool water and
had brushed her hair and buttoned her into a pretty white dress
with blue spots, Sister was her own sunny self. She had not been
thoroughly awake, you see, and that was the reason she felt a
little cross.

"What was Miss Putnam doing?" she asked curiously, watching Louise
fold up the frock she had taken off.

"She was out in her yard nailing something on the fence," said
Louise. "I saw her when I was a block away, hammering as though
her life depended on it. A crowd of boys were watching her--at a
safe distance--and when I came near enough I saw she had a roll of
wire in the yard. She was nailing barbwire along the fence
pickets!"

"How mean!" scolded Sister. "No one wants to climb over her old
fence, or swing on her gate."

"Well, I think it is a shame the way the boys torment her,"
declared Louise severely. "Jimmie says he caught a little red-
headed boy the other day throwing old tin cans over her fence. You
know what Daddy would say if he ever thought you or Brother did
anything like that."

"We don't," Sister assured her earnestly. "We never bother Miss
Putnam."





CHAPTER XIII

A BIG DISAPPOINTMENT


Fourth of July, always a glorious holiday in the Morrison
household, came and was celebrated by a family picnic which gave
Brother and Sister something to talk about for days afterward.
Their sandbox, too, kept them busy and for a long time Jimmie
never had to warn them not to touch the gymnasium apparatus in the
barn.

Daddy Morrison and Dick and Ralph continued to go every day to the
city and Jimmie worked faithfully at his books, determined to
begin the fall school term without a condition. As captain of the
football team it was necessary for him to make a good showing in
his lessons as well as in athletics.

Louise and Grace perhaps enjoyed the vacation time more than any
other members of the family. They would be sophomores when they
returned to high school in September, and while they were willing
to study hard then, they meant to have all the fun they could
before they were bound down to books and lessons again.

"Where you going?" Sister asked one night, finding Louise prinking
before the hall mirror and Grace counting change from her mesh
bag.

"Out," answered Louise serenely, pulling her pretty hair more over
her ears.

"I know--to the movies!" guessed Brother. "Can't we go? Oh,
please, Louise--you said you'd take us sometime!"

"Oh, yes, Louise, can't we go?" teased Sister. "I never went to
the movies at night," she added pleadingly.

"You can't go," said Louise reasonably enough. "We didn't go when
we were little like you. Don't hang on me, please, Sister; it's
too hot."

"I think you're mean!" stormed Brother. "Mother, can't we go to
the movies?"

Mother Morrison, who had been upstairs to get her fan, was going
with Louise and Grace. She shook her head to Brother's question.

"My dearies, of course you can't go at night," she said firmly. "I
want you to be good children and go to bed when the clock strikes
eight. Ralph promised to come up and see you. Kiss Mother good-
night, Sister, and be a good girl."

Left alone, Brother and Sister sat down on the front stairs. Molly
was out and Daddy Morrison and Dick had gone to a lodge meeting.
Jimmie was studying up in his room and Ralph was out in the barn
putting some things away.

"There's that old clock!" said Brother crossly as the
Grandfather's clock on the stair landing boomed the hour.

Eight slow, deep strokes--eight o'clock.

Sister settled herself more firmly against the banister railings.

"I'm not going to bed," she announced flatly. "If everybody can go
to the movies 'cept me, I don't think it's fair, so there!"

Just how she expected to even things up by refusing to go to bed
Sister did not explain. Perhaps she didn't know. Anyway, Brother
said he wasn't going to bed either. Ralph came in at half-past
eight to find them both playing checkers on the living-room floor.

"Thought you went to bed at eight o'clock," said Ralph, surprised.
"Mother say you might stay up tonight?"

"No, she didn't," admitted Brother, "but she went to the movies
with Louise and Grace. Everybody is having fun and we're not."

Ralph didn't scold. He merely closed up the checkerboard and put
it away in the book-case drawer with the box of checkers. Then he
lifted Sister to his lap and put an arm around Brother.

"Poor chicks, you do feel abused; don't you?" he said comfortably.
"But I'll tell you something--you wouldn't like going to the
movies at night; you would go to sleep after a little while and
lose half the pictures. Now suppose I take you this Saturday
afternoon. How will that do?"

"Will you take us, Ralph?" cried Sister. "Down to the Majestic?"

This was the largest motion picture theatre in Ridgeway.

"I'll take you both to the Majestic next Saturday afternoon,"
promised Ralph, "if you will go to bed without any more fuss
tonight."

Both children were delighted with the thought of an afternoon's
enjoyment with Ralph and they trotted up to bed with him as
pleasantly as though going to bed were a pleasure. Grownups will
tell you it is, but when you are five and six this is difficult to
believe.

Unfortunately Brother and Sister were doomed to another
disappointment. Before Saturday afternoon came, Ralph remembered
that he had promised to play tennis with a friend and he could not
break the engagement, because to do so would spoil the afternoon
for eight or ten people who counted on him for games.

"I'm just as sorry as I can be," Ralph told Brother and Sister
earnestly. "I don't see how I could forget I promised Fred Holmes
to play with him. If you want to wait another week for me, I'll
give you the money for ice-cream sodas."

Grandmother Hastings and Mother Morrison had gone to the city, the
girls had company, Molly was lying down with a headache--there
seemed to be no one to take the children to the matinee.

"I guess we'll have to go buy sodas," agreed Brother
disconsolately. "Only if I don't go to movies pretty soon, I'll--
I'll--I don't know what I'll do!"

"I know," said Sister, dimpling mischievously. "I'll tell you,
Roddy."

"You be good, Sister," warned Ralph, eyeing her a bit anxiously.
"I couldn't take a naughty little girl to the movies, you know."





CHAPTER XIV

TWO IN TROUBLE


Ralph knew that Sister could put queer ideas into Brother's head,
and he hoped that the fun of going downtown, and buying ice-cream
soda at the drug store, might cause Sister to forget whatever she
had in mind.

When he came home from his tennis game he found both children
playing in the sandbox, and as they were very good the rest of
that afternoon and evening and all day Sunday, Ralph decided that
Sister was not going to be naughty or get Brother to help her to
do anything she should not.

Monday evening Mother and Daddy Morrison went through the hedge
into Dr. Yarrow's house to visit the doctor and his wife. Brother
and Sister were told to run in and visit Grandmother Hastings
until eight o'clock, their bedtime.

"Can we take Brownie?" begged Sister. "Grandmother says he is the
nicest dog!"

So Brownie, who was now three times the size he had been when
Ralph brought him home in the basket, was allowed to go calling,
too.

"Grandma," said Sister, when Grandmother Hastings had answered
their knock on her screen door, and had hugged and kissed them
both. "Grandma, couldn't we go to the movies?"

Now Grandmother Hastings was a darling grandmother who loved to do
whatever her grandchildren asked of her. It never entered her dear
head that Mother Morrison might not wish Brother and Sister to go
to the movies at night. She only thought how they would enjoy the
pictures, and although she disliked going out at night herself,
she said that she would take Brother and Sister.

"We can't go downtown to the Majestic," she said, "for that is too
far for me to walk. We'll have to go over to the nice little
theatre on Dollmer Avenue. If we go right away, we can be home
early."

Sister lagged a little behind her grandmother and brother as they
started for the theatre. She was stuffing Brownie into her roomy
middy blouse. He was rather a large puppy to squeeze into such a
place, but Sister managed it somehow. Grandmother Hastings
supposed that the dog had been left on the porch.

The theatre was dark, for the pictures were being shown on the
screen when they reached it, and Grandmother Hastings had to feel
her way down the aisle, Brother and Sister clinging to her skirts.
The electric fans were going, but it was warm and close, and
Grandmother wished longingly for her own cool parlor. But Brother
and Sister thought everything about the movie theatre beautiful.

"Do you suppose Brownie likes it?" whispered Brother, who sat next
to Sister. Grandmother was on his other side.

"He feels kind of hot," admitted Sister, who could not have been
very comfortable with the heavy dog inside her blouse. "But I
think he likes it."

Brownie had his head stuck halfway out, and he probably wondered
where he was. It was so dark that there was little danger of
anyone discovering him. A dog in a motion-picture house is about
as popular, you know, as Mary's lamb was in school. That is, he
isn't popular at all.

Brownie might have gone to the movies and gone home again without
anyone ever having been the wiser, if there had not been a film
shown that night that no regular dog could look at and not bark.

"Oh, look at the big cat!" whispered Sister excitedly.

Surely enough, a large cat sat on the fence, and, as they watched,
a huge collie dog, with a beautiful plumy tail, came marching
around the corner.

He spied the cat and dashed for her. She began to run, on the
screen, of course. The audience in the movie house began to laugh,
for the dog in his first jump had upset a bucket of paint. The
people in the theatre were sure they were going to see a funny
picture.

But Brownie had seen the cat, too. He knew cats, and there were
many in his neighborhood he meant to chase as soon as he was old
enough to make them afraid of him. He scratched vigorously on
Sister's blouse and whined.

"Ki-yi!" he yelped, as though saying: "Ki-yi! I'll bet I could
catch that cat!"

Barking shrilly, he scrambled out from Sister's middy, shook
himself free of her arms, and tore down the aisle of the theatre,
intent on catching the fluffy cat.

"Ki-yi!" he continued to call joyously.

"Brownie! Here, Brownie!" called Sister frantically. "Brownie,
come back here!"

The theatre was in an uproar in a minute. Ladies began to shriek
that the dog was mad, and some of them stood upon the seats and
cried out. The men who tried to catch Brownie only made him bark
more, and the louder he barked the more the ladies shrieked.
Finally they stopped the picture and turned on the lights.

"Rhodes and Elizabeth Morrison!" said someone sternly. "What are
you doing here?"

There, across the aisle from Grandmother Hastings and Brother and
Sister, sat Daddy and Mother Morrison with Dr. and Mrs. Yarrow.
They had come to the movies, too!

"Is that dog Brownie?" asked Daddy Morrison, coming over to them.

Everyone had left his seat and the aisle was in confusion; people
talking and arguing and advising one another.

Sister nodded miserably. She felt very small and unhappy.

"Rhodes, go down and get Brownie at once!" commanded Daddy
Morrison.

When they were naughty, Brother and Sister were always called by
their "truly" names, you see.

"I'll go get him," gulped Sister. "I brought him--Roddy didn't
want me to."

Brownie came willingly enough to Sister and she gathered him up in
her arms. He may have wondered, in his doggie mind, what all the
fuss was about and what had become of the fluffy cat, but he was
getting used to having his fun abruptly ended.

"I didn't know you brought the dog, dear," said Grandmother
Hastings, breaking a grim silence as they walked home. "And did
you know Mother wasn't willing to have you go at night when you
asked me to take you?"

Poor little Sister had to confess that she had asked Grandmother
to take them because she knew that in no other way could they get
to the movies at night. Grandmother Hastings never scolded, but
her grandchildren hated to know that she was disappointed in them.

No one scolded Brother and Sister very much that night. They were
put to bed, and the next morning Daddy Morrison called them into
his "den" before he left for the office, and told them that for a
week they could not go out of their own yard.

"And I s'pose we can't go with Ralph Saturday," wailed Sister.





CHAPTER XV

TROUBLE AGAIN


However, they were allowed to go with Ralph to the movies the next
Saturday. Ralph himself explained to Daddy Morrison that he had
promised to take them and then found he had a previous engagement.
He thought, and Daddy Morrison did, too, that having to stay in
the yard for a whole week was punishment enough even if one
exception was permitted.

So Brother and Sister went down to the "big" theatre with Ralph
the next Saturday afternoon, and then they had to stay in their
yard all day Sunday and all day Monday, and after that they might
again go where they pleased.

"Let's go see if Norman Crane's aunt sent him a birthday present,"
suggested Sister the first morning they were free to leave the
yard.

Norman Crane was a little friend who lived several blocks away,
and whose aunt in New York City sent him wonderful presents at
Christmas time and on his birthday. He had had a party a few days
before, and of course Brother and Sister could not go--all because
they would go to those unlucky movies!

Brother was willing to stop at Norman's house, but when they
reached there they found Norman had gone to the city with his
mother for a day's shopping.

"I smell tar," declared Brother, as they came down the steps and
turned into the street where Miss Putnam lived in the haunted
house--only it wasn't called that any longer. "Oh, look, Betty,
they're mending something."

There was a little group of children about a big pot of boiling
tar and workmen were mending the roofs of three or four houses
that were built exactly alike and were owned by the same man.
These houses were always repaired and painted at the same time
every year.

Nearest to the boiling pot--indeed, with his red head almost in
the hot steam--was the little boy Brother and Sister had noticed
walking on Miss Putnam's picket fence. A puddle of tar had
splashed over on the ground and the red-headed boy was stirring it
with a stick held between his bare toes.

"Now don't hang around here all day," said one of the workmen,
kindly enough. "Run away before you get burned. Hey, there, Red!
Do you want to blister your foot?"

The red-haired lad grinned mischievously.

"I'd hate to spoil my shoes," he jeered, "but you watch and I'll
kick over your old pot! I can, just as easy."

The other children drew nearer, half-believing the boy would tip
over the pot of boiling tar.

"Here," said another and younger workman, "if we give each of you
a little on a stick will you promise to go off and leave us in
peace?"

There was an eager chorus of promises, and the good-natured young
roofer actually stuck a little ball of the soft tar on each stick
thrust at him and watched the small army of boys and girls march
up the street, smiling.

"That Mickey Gaffney thinks he's smart," said Nellie Yarrow, who
had found Brother and Sister in the crowd, as the red-headed boy
dashed past them, waving his stick of tar wildly and shouting like
an Indian.

"Do you know him?" asked Sister. "Doesn't he ever wear shoes?"

"I guess so--I don't know. I don't like him," replied Nellie
indifferently.

"I don't believe he has any shoes, not even for Sunday," Brother
said to himself. "His coat was all torn and his mother sewed his
pants up with another kind of cloth so that it shows. I wonder
where 'bouts he lives?"

He opened his mouth to ask Nellie, when Miss Putnam swooped down
to the fence as they were passing her house.

"Go way!" she called, leaving her weeding to wave a rake at them.
"Go 'long with you! Don't you drop any of that messy tar on my
sidewalk!"

"What lovely flowers!" whispered Sister as they obediently hurried
past.

Indeed, Miss Putnam had made a beautiful garden and lawn of her
small yard, and she did all the work of taking care of it herself.

Sister and Brother carried their tar home with them and left it in
the sand heap. Jimmie had six boys playing in the gymnasium with
him and they all stayed to lunch. Molly and Mother Morrison were
used to having unexpected guests, and no matter how many there
were, in some mysterious manner plenty of good things to eat
appeared on the table,

"Can we come out and watch you?" asked Brother when the boys were
going back to the barn.

"We're going swimming," answered Jimmie.

"Can't we go swimming?" inquired Sister hopefully.

"You can NOT!" retorted Jimmie. "Why don't you take a nap, or--
something?"

"Come on out to the barn, Roddy," Sister urged Brother when Jimmie
and his friends had gone whistling on their way to the river.

"Now don't you be meddling with any of those things out there,"
warned Molly, clearing the table. "Your brother doesn't like you
to touch his exercises, you know."

Molly called all the apparatus the boys used "exercises."

"We're not going to touch 'em!" declared Sister. "We're only going
to look."

Jimmie seldom snapped his padlock, for lately the children had not
bothered the gymnasium in the barn. They found the door open this
afternoon.

"Bet you can't jump off that!" said Sister, pointing to a home-
made "horse" that Jimmie had ingeniously contrived.

(If you don't know the kind of "horse" they use in a gymnasium,
ask your big brother or sister.)

"Bet I can!" challenged Brother.

They took turns jumping until they were tired, and they went about
poking their little fingers and noses into whatever they could
find to examine. Sister's investigations ended sadly enough, for
she succeeded in pulling down a tray of butterflies that Jimmie
was mounting (he had thought the gymnasium a safe place to keep
them out of everyone's way), and now broken glass and crumbled
butterflies were scattered all over the floor.

"Now you've done it!" cried Brother. "Jimmie will be just as mad!"

They found an old broom and swept the broken glass under one of
the heavy floor pads. Then, very much subdued, they went into the
house and were so quiet for the rest of the afternoon and through
supper that Mother Morrison wondered if they were sick.

They were having dessert when the doorbell rang and Molly went to
the door. She came back in a moment, her eyes round with wonder
and looking rather frightened.

"It's Mr. Dougherty, sir," she said to Daddy Morrison. "He wants
to see you."

Mr. Dougherty was Ridgeway's one and only policeman.





CHAPTER XVI

MISS PUTNAM COMPLAINS


At the mention of the policeman's name, Sister had given a gasp.
No one noticed her as Daddy Morrison pushed back his chair and
went into the hall.

"I wonder what he wants?" mused Mother Morrison, helping Ralph to
blackberries.

"Sister, you're spilling juice on the tablecloth," reproved Dick.
"Look out, there goes another spot."

Sister was trying to eat her berries, and also plan what to say
when the policeman should send for her. She was sure that he had
heard about the broken case of butterflies, for Jimmie, when
greatly provoked at her long ago, had threatened to tell Mr.
Dougherty of her next misdeed.

"I like Mr. Dougherty," announced Brother sweetly.

No broken butterflies lay heavy on HIS conscience.

Louise and Grace finished their dessert and were excused to go
upstairs. The others lingered at the table because Daddy Morrison
and Mr. Dougherty had gone into the living-room and they did not
wish to disturb them.

"Lelia," called Daddy Morrison presently, "will you come here for
a moment?"

Leila was Mother Morrison's name, and she rose and went across the
hall quickly.

There was a low murmur of talk, an exclamation from Mother
Morrison, and then the voice of Mr. Dougherty in the hall.

"Then I'm to tell the Chief that you'll drop in tonight?" he was
saying. "All right, sir, that'll be satisfactory, of course. I'm
not overly fond of this sort of work, but when a woman makes a
complaint, you know, we haven't much choice."

"I understand," Daddy Morrison's deep, pleasant voice answered.
"I'll get at the truth, and tell the Chief I'll be down at the
town hall before ten o'clock. Good-night, Dougherty."

"Good-night, sir," said Mr. Dougherty and the screen door slammed.

Daddy Morrison came back to the dining-room.

"Rhodes and Elizabeth, I want to speak to you," he said very
gravely. "Come up to my den."

Sister's small face went very white.

"I didn't mean to, honest I didn't, Jimmie!" she cried, hurling
herself on that astonished young man and clinging desperately to
his coat lapels. "I didn't know they were there till they fell
over."

"What ails her?" Jimmie demanded, staring at his father. "What
fell over?"

"Your case of butterflies," Brother informed him sadly "We were
playing out in the barn and Betty reached up to open a window and
the pole knocked the box off."

"Well, I must say--" began Jimmie wrathfully. "I must say! If you
two don't learn to leave my things alone--"

"Save your lecture, Jimmie," advised his father quickly. "I didn't
know about the butterflies, but I want to ask the children about
something else. Come upstairs, now. You, too, Mother."

Brother and Sister followed Mother and Daddy Morrison upstairs,
puzzled to know what was to be said to them. If the butterflies
made so little difference to anyone--except Jimmie, who was
perfectly boiling, it was plain to see--what else was there to
scold them about? For that it was to be a scolding neither Brother
or Sister doubted--hadn't Daddy called them "Rhodes" and
"Elizabeth"?

"Now," said Daddy Morrison, when they were all in the little room
he called his den and he had closed the door, although it was a
warm night, "what were you doing this afternoon?"

"Playing in the barn," answered Brother. "It wasn't locked,
Daddy."

"And then you broke Jimmie's case of butterflies," said Daddy.
"What did you do then?"

"We swept the glass under a pad," said Sister, finding her voice.
"Did Jimmie tell Mr. Dougherty?"

"Jimmie didn't know, and he certainly would not tell the police,"
declared Daddy Morrison, smiling a little in spite of his evident
anxiety. "Miss Putnam, children, has made a complaint to the
police that you tracked fresh tar over her porch and sidewalk, and
she wants you to clean it off. That was why Mr. Dougherty came
tonight."

"We won't either clean it off!" cried Brother angrily. "Serve her
right to clean it off herself; mean old thing!"

"Don't let me hear you talk like that again," said Daddy Morrison
sternly. "Did either of you have anything to do with putting tar
on her porch or walk?"

"No, sir," replied Brother more meekly.

"But did you PLAY with the tar?" asked Mother Morrison. "Mr.
Dougherty told us there were roofers mending the Gillson houses
today, and using hot tar."

"Yes, they gave us some," said Brother honestly enough. "Didn't
they, Betty? All the children had some, and we went by Miss
Putnam's house and she yelled at us."

"But we didn't stop," added Sister. "We went right on and came
home, didn't we, Roddy?"

"Yes," nodded Brother. "And that was before lunch, Daddy."

Daddy Morrison looked troubled.

"If you say you did not throw the tar, I believe you," he said
gravely. "You may get into mischief and do wrong things, but I am
sure you do not tell wrong stories. I don't see how Miss Putnam
can be positive enough to give your names to the police, but I am
going around to see her now and hear what she has to say. Then
I'll stop in at the town hall and see the chief of police."

The telephone rang just then, and he went downstairs. It was only
half-past seven, but Mother Morrison insisted that it was time for
them to get ready for bed.

"Your father doesn't want you to speak of the tar to any of your
playmates," she said as she brushed Sister's hair. "You must be
very careful and not say a word against Miss Putnam. People may
make mistakes easily, and we'll try to think as kindly of her as
we can. Poor old lady! She must be terribly tormented by the
children to dislike them so."

"I wish," wept Sister over her sandals as she unbuckled them, "I
wish I hadn't smashed Jimmie's butterflies. Now he's mad at me."

"Well, you know he has asked you not to play in the barn when he
isn't there to watch you," suggested Mother Morrison mildly.
"However, you can make it up with Jimmie tomorrow; he never holds
a grudge."

"Weed the onions for him," advised Brother wisely if sleepily. "He
hates weeding."

"Maybe I will," decided Sister. "Daddy said tonight he couldn't go
swimming again until he had worked in the garden."





CHAPTER XVII

MAKING UP WITH JIMMIE


Daddy Morrison went to see Miss Putnam after the children had gone
to bed. The old lady was very sure that Brother and Sister had
thrown the tar and she was so positive in her assertions that
finally he asked her how she could be so sure.

"Well, one of the neighbors told me," Miss Putnam said
reluctantly. "No, I don't know your children from any of the
others, but she does. All children look pretty much alike to me--
noisy, scuffling young ones! No, I couldn't tell you the
neighbor's name--I wouldn't want to get her into any trouble."

When Daddy Morrison went away, she showed him the tar on her porch
and sidewalk.

"Somebody ought to be made to clear it off," said Miss Putnam
severely.

The chief of police, at the town hall, was a little angry that a
complaint had been made merely on the word of a neighbor, who
might easily be mistaken about the children she had seen throwing
tar. However, as Brother and Sister said they had nothing to do
with it, and Miss Putnam refused to believe them, there was
nothing to do but let the complaint stand.

"Keep away from Miss Putnam's house and street," commanded Daddy
Morrison at the breakfast table the next morning. "Don't go past
her house except when it is absolutely necessary. We're not going
to have any more bickering over this matter. Your mother and I
believe you and that is all that is necessary. I shall be
seriously displeased if I find you are talking it over with
outsiders, especially other children."

Ralph and Dick had already taken their way to the station and now
Daddy Morrison hurried to get his train.

"Why doesn't he want us to talk about it?" asked Sister, puzzled.
"Couldn't I tell Nellie Yarrow?"

"I wouldn't," counseled Mother Morrison. "You see, dear, you can't
help feeling that Miss Putnam has been unfair and every time you
tell what she has done you will make someone else think she is
unfair, too. Your friends will take your part, of course, and
while you think Miss Putnam is decidedly 'mean,' she is acting
right, according to her own ideas. It is never best to talk much
about a quarrel of any kind."

Jimmie, who had been eating his breakfast in silence, rose and
looked toward his mother.

"I suppose I have to work in that old garden?" he said
aggrievedly.

"You know what your father said," replied Mother Morrison.

Jimmie did not like to weed, and the Morrison garden, when it came
his turn, was often sadly neglected. He and Ralph and Dick were
responsible for the care of the garden two weeks at a time during
the growing season.

"Well, maybe if I stick at it this morning, I can go swimming this
afternoon," muttered Jimmie. "Dad didn't say the whole thing had
to be weeded today, did he?"

"He wants the new heads of lettuce transplanted, and all the
onions weeded," answered Mother Morrison. "You know you were asked
to tend to those a week ago, Jimmie."

Jimmie flung himself out of the house in rather a bad temper. He
did not like to transplant lettuce and the onions must be weeded
by hand. Other vegetables could be handled with a hoe, or the
garden cultivator, but the eight long rows of new onions must be
carefully done down on one's hands and knees.

"Jimmie!" said a little voice at his elbow as he got the trowel
and the wheelbarrow from the toolhouse. "Jimmie?"

"Well, what do you want?" demanded Jimmie shortly.

"I'll--I'll help you," offered Sister timidly.

"You can't," said Jimmie. "Last time you crammed the lettuce
plants in so hard they died over night."

"But I'll bring the water for 'em, in the watering-pot, and I can
weed onions--I know how to do that," insisted Sister humbly.

"I won't need the watering-pot," said Jimmie more graciously.
"I'll use the hose on them all tonight. I wonder if you could weed
the onions?"

"Oh, yes!" Sister assured him eagerly. "You watch me, Jimmie."

She fell on her fat little knees, and began to pull the weeds from
a long row of onions.

The sun was hot and the row was very long. Before she reached the
middle of it, the perspiration was running down Sister's face, and
her hands were damp and grimy.

"Look here," Jimmie called to her anxiously, on his way back for
more lettuce plants, "don't you want to rest? And why don't you
wear a sunbonnet, or something?"

Sister stood up, straightening her aching little shoulders.

"Sunbonnets are hot," she explained carefully. "And I don't want
to rest, Jimmie. I'll go get a drink of water and then I'll weed
some more."

"Bring me a drink, too, will you?" Jimmie called after her.

When she brought it he forgot to say thank you because one of his
friends had ridden past on his bicycle and this reminded Jimmie
that he had meant to do something to his own wheel that morning.
So he drank the water Sister carried out to him without a word
because he was cross, and when we're cross we do not always
remember to be polite.

Sister went steadily at the weeding again, and after a while
Jimmie finished the lettuce, and began to weed an onion row
himself.

"You can stop if you want to now," he said to Sister presently.
"Don't you want to play? I can finish these."

"I'm not going to stop till they're all done," announced Sister.
"Molly says the only way to get anything finished is to use plenty
of per--perservance!"

Jimmie laughed and glanced at her curiously.

"I guess you mean PERSEVERANCE" he suggested, "Well, Sister, you
are certainly fine help. It begins to look as though I could go
swimming this afternoon after all."

Surely enough, when Mother Morrison called to them that lunch was
ready, they were weeding the last onion row.

"I can finish that in fifteen minutes," declared Jimmie gaily.
"You're a brick, Sister! When you want me to do something for you,
just mention it, will you?"

Sister beamed. She was hot and tired and she knew her face and
hands were streaked and dirty. Brother had spent the morning
playing with Nellie Yarrow and Ellis Carr, and Nellie's aunt had
taken them to the drug store for ice-cream soda. Yet Sister, far
from being sorry for her hot, busy morning in the garden, felt
very happy.

"Now you don't mind, do you?" she asked Jimmie anxiously.

"Mind what?" he said, putting the wheelbarrow away in the
toolhouse.

"About the butterflies," explained Sister.

"I'd forgotten all about them," declared Jimmie, hugging her.





CHAPTER XVIII

MICKEY GAFFNEY


Brother and Sister were very fond of playing school. They
carefully saved all the old pencils and scraps of paper and half-
used blank books that Grace and Louise and Jimmie gave them, and
many mornings they spent on the porch "going to school."

Neither had ever been to school, and of course they were excited
at the prospect of starting in the fall. Brother had had
kindergarten lessons at home and he was ready for the first grade,
while Sister would have to make her start in the Ridgeway school
kindergarten.

"I wish summer would hurry up and go," complained Brother one
August day. "Then we could really go to school."

"Well, don't wish that," advised Louise. "Goodness knows you'll be
tired of it soon enough! Sister, what are you dragging out here?"

"My blackboard," answered Sister, almost falling over the doorsill
as she pulled her blackboard--a gift from Grandmother Hastings--
out onto the porch.

"Come on, Grace, we'll go in," proposed Louise, hastily gathering
up her work. "If these children are going to play school there
won't be any place for us! We'll go up to my room."

"I thought maybe you would be the scholars," said Brother,
disappointed. "We never have enough scholars."

Louise was halfway up the stairs.

"You can play the dolls are scholars," she called back.

Mother Morrison had gone over to Grandmother Hastings to help her
make blackberry jam, and Louise and Grace had been left in charge
of the house.

"Let me be the teacher," begged Sister, when her blackboard was
arranged to her liking. "I know how, Roddy."

"Well, all right, you can be teacher first," agreed Brother. "But
after you play, then it's my turn."

Sister picked up a book and pointed to the blackboard.

"'Rithmetic class, go to the board," she commanded.

Both she and Brother knew a good deal about what went on in
classrooms, because they had listened to the older children
recite.

"How much is sixty-eight times ninety-two?" asked Teacher-Sister
importantly.

Brother made several marks on the blackboard with the crayon.

"Nine hundred," he answered doubtfully.

"Correct," said the teacher kindly. "Now I'll hear the class in
spellin'."

"I wish we had more scholars," complained Brother. "It's no fun
with just one; I have to be everything."

"There's that little boy again--maybe he'd play," suggested
Sister, pointing to the red-haired, barefooted little boy who
stood staring on the walk that led up to the porch.

He could not see through the screens very clearly, but he had
heard the voices of the children and, stopping to listen, had
drawn nearer and nearer.

"That's Mickey Gaffney," whispered Brother. "Hello, Mickey," he
called more loudly. "Want to come play school with us?"

Mickey came up on the steps, and flattened his nose against the
screen door.

"I dunno," he said doubtfully. "How do you play?"

Sister pushed open the door for him, and Mickey rather shyly
looked about him.

"It's nice and shady in here," he said appreciatively. "You got a
blackboard, ain't you?"

"You should say 'have' a blackboard and 'ain't' is dreadful,"
corrected Sister, blissfully unaware that "dreadful" was not a
good word to use. "You can use the chalk if you'll be a scholar,
Mickey."

Mickey was anxious to draw on the blackboard and he consented to
play "just for a little."

As Brother had said, two scholars were ever so much better than
one and they had a beautiful time playing together. Mickey, in
spite of his ragged clothes, and bad grammar, knew how to play,
and he suggested several new things that Sister and Brother had
never done.

"I been to school," boasted Mickey.

The children were anxious to have him stay to lunch with them and
Louise, who had heard his voice and who came downstairs to see
him, also invited him to stay. But he was too shy, and shuffled
off just as Nellie Yarrow bounded up the front steps.

"Wasn't that Mickey Gaffney?" she asked curiously. "I shouldn't
think you'd want to play with him. His folks are awful poor, and,
besides, his father was arrested last year."

"Mickey isn't to blame for that," retorted Grace quickly. "Don't
be a snob, Nellie; Brother and Sister had a good time playing with
that little red-headed boy."

"But hardly any of the children play with him," persisted Nellie,
who of course went to the public school. "You see last term Mickey
was in my room, and he only came till about the middle of October
--maybe it was November. Anyway, soon as it got cold he stopped
coming.

"The teacher thought he was playing hooky, and she told Mr.
Alexander, the principal. And he found out that the reason Mickey
didn't come to school was 'cause his father didn't send him."

"Why didn't his father send him?" asked Sister.

"He wouldn't work, and Mickey didn't have any shoes to wear,"
explained Nellie. "Mr. Alexander got somebody to give Mickey a
pair of shoes, but he wouldn't pay any attention to his lessons,
and I know he wasn't promoted. I suppose he'll be in the first
grade again this year."

Brother and Sister thought a good deal about Mickey after Nellie
had gone home. They wondered if he wanted to go to school and
whether he wished the summer would hurry so the new term might
open.

"He liked to play school, so I guess he likes to go, really,"
argued Sister. "Playing is different," said Brother wisely. "He
didn't have any shoes on this morning, did he?"

"No, that's so," Sister recalled. "And his clothes were all torn
and dirty; maybe he hasn't any new suit to wear the first day."

All the Morrison children had always started school in new suits
or dresses, and Mother Morrison had promised Brother a new sailor
suit and Sister a gingham frock when they started off in
September.

"Miss Putnam would say he 'scuffled,'" giggled Sister, remembering
that was what Miss Putnam thought all children did with their
feet.

"I wonder who really did put the tar on her porch?" murmured
Brother. "She'll always think we did it, unless someone tells her
something else."





CHAPTER XIX

A VERY SICK DOLL


"Madam," declared Brother seriously, "your child
is very ill, I fear!"

He was the "doctor" and had been called to attend Muriel Elsie,
Sister's best and largest doll. The children had started this new
game one day.

"Oh, Doctor!" fluttered Sister, much worried. "Can't you give her
something?"

The doctor sat down on the window-seat and considered.

"You ate all the peppermints up," he told Muriel Elsie's "mother."
Then he went on: "And Louise hid the box of chocolates. No, I
don't believe I can give her any medicines."

"Yes, you can," urged the little mother, hurriedly. "Go to the
drug store; that's where Doctor Yarrow gets all his pills and
things."

"Where--where is the drugstore?" stammered the doctor.

He was used to having Sister tell him. She usually planned their
games.

"Why, it's--it's--" Sister looked about her desperately. Where
should she say the drugstore was? "I know," she cried. "Over to
Grandma's--hurry!"

Grandmother Hastings glanced up from her sewing in surprise as
Brother and Sister tumbled up the steps of the side porch where
she sat.

"Oh, Grandma!" and Sister fell over the Boston fern in her
eagerness to explain the play. "Grandma, Muriel Elsie is ever so
sick, and Roddy is the doctor; and we have to go to the drugstore
to get medicine for her. Have you any? You have, haven't you,
Grandma?"

"Dear me," said Grandmother Hastings, adjusting her glasses.
"Muriel Elsie is very ill, is she? Well, now, what kind of
medicine do you think she needs?"

"Muriel Elsie likes medicine that tastes good," explained Sister.

"Well, I must put on my thinking-cap," said dear Grandmother
Hastings. "I didn't know I was keeping a 'drug store' till this
minute, you see."

The children were as quiet as two little mice, so that Grandmother
might think better.

"I know!" she cried in a moment. "I think I have the very thing!
Come on out in the kitchen with me."

They pattered after her and watched while she lifted down a large
pasteboard box from a cupboard. From this box she took several
tiny round boxes, such as druggists use for pills.

"I think Muriel Elsie needs two kinds of medicine," said
Grandmother gravely. "Now if you want to watch me put it up,
there's nothing to hinder you."

Grandmother Hastings could play "pretend" beautifully, as Brother
and Sister often said. Now she opened her shining white bread box
and took out a loaf of white bread and one of brown. She washed
her hands carefully at the sink, tied on a big white apron and
brought the sugar and cinnamon from the pantry.

"Oh, Grandma!" squeaked Brother in joyful excitement. "What are
you going to do?"

"Why, get some medicine ready for Muriel Elsie," answered his
grandmother, making believe to be surprised. "Didn't you want me
to?"

"Of course--don't mind him, Grandma," said Sister scornfully. "I'd
like to keep a drug store when I grow up."

Grandmother cut a slice of bread from the white loaf and buttered
it lightly. Then she sprinkled it with cinnamon and sugar, broke
off a little piece and rolled that into several tiny round balls.
They looked for all the world like real pills.

Then she cut a slice of brown bread and rolled that into little
pills, too. She filled four of the small boxes.

"There!' she said, giving the boxes to Brother. "See that your
patient takes a white pill and a brown one every two minutes and
she will soon be well."

"Thank you very much, Grandma," said Brother, standing up to go.
"Don't you want us to eat the trimmings?"

Grandmother laughed and said yes, they might eat the crusts, and
she gave them each a slice of the brown bread spread with nice,
sweet butter, too.

Brother and Sister hurried home and on the way over they changed
to the Doctor and Muriel Elsie's worried mamma. They had been so
interested in watching Grandmother Hastings make the pills that
they had almost forgotten that they were playing.

They had left the patient in the porch swing--Sister said it was
important to keep her in the fresh air--but when they went to take
her up and give her a pill, she wasn't to be found.

"Perhaps Louise did something to her," decided Sister.

But Louise, questioned, declared she had not seen the doll.

"Is it Muriel Elsie you're looking for?" asked Molly, her head
tied up in a sweep cap and a broom on her shoulder as she prepared
to sweep the upstairs hall. "Why, I found her half an hour ago on
the porch floor, her face all cracked into little chips."

"Muriel Elsie all chipped?" repeated Sister in wonder. "Why, she's
my very best doll!"

"'Twas that imp of a Brownie did it," related Molly. "I was coming
out to sweep the porch off, and he raced on ahead and went to
jerking the cushions out of the hammock. First thing I knew there
was a crash, and the doll was smashed on the floor. I saved you
the pieces, Sister."

Brownie had a trick, the children knew, of snatching the sofa and
swing cushions and flinging them on the floor whenever he thought
anyone was ready to sleep. They had always considered this rather
a clever trick for a little dog, and Sister could not find it in
her heart to scold him even now.

"I suppose he didn't know Muriel Elsie was there," she said
sorrowfully. "I had a cushion over her so she couldn't take cold.
Where did you put her, Molly?"

Molly brought out the box with the unfortunate Muriel Elsie in it.
Only her pretty face was damaged and that was badly chipped.
Besides her whole head wobbled on her body.

Sister began to cry.

"Maybe Ralph can mend her," she sobbed. "My poor little Muriel
Elsie! And we were playing she was sick, too."

"Yes, I guess Ralph can mend her," said Brother bravely. "He can
mend lots of things. And you have all the pieces."

Sister took the box under her arm and went down to the gate to
wait for Ralph, who was expected home on an early train.

"Well, I s'pose we might as well eat the pills," suggested
Brother. "Muriel Elsie's certainly too sick for pills--she needs--
operating on!"

So they ate the pills while they were waiting for Ralph, and they
gave Brownie some, too. As Sister said he didn't mean to break the
doll and he probably felt the way she did when she found she had
knocked over Jimmie's case of butterflies.





CHAPTER XX

PLANS FOR MICKEY


The last pill had disappeared down little red lane, when Ralph was
seen to turn the corner.

"Well, Chicks, why so solemn?" he asked cheerfully. "Sister, have
you been crying?"

Sister held out the broken doll silently.

"Why, that's too bad!" exclaimed Ralph, sitting down on the step
beside his little sister. "What happened to Muriel Elsie?"

"Brownie jerked her out of the hammock and she fell on her head,"
Brother explained. "Can you mend her, Ralph?"

"I'm afraid not," said Ralph regretfully. "Mending faces is
ticklish work; I might manage an arm or leg, but not a FACE. I
tell you, Sister--you take Muriel Elsie down to the Exchange and
see if Miss Arline can't mend her. Leave her there, ask how much
it will cost and when she will be ready, and I'll give you the
money."

"I'll go with you, Betty," Brother offered. "Let's go now,"

Molly tied the box up with paper and string and hand in hand
Brother and Sister started.

"Certainly I can mend the dollie," announced Miss Arline when they
reached her house and had shown her Muriel Elsie and explained the
accident. "I think I'll take her into the city with me tomorrow to
a doll's hospital. You come for her a week from today and she will
be ready for you. I can't tell how much it will cost, you tell
your brother, until I find out what the hospital will charge me."

On their way home, Brother and Sister met Mickey Gaffney. They had
not seen him since he played school with them, and the sight of
him at once suggested something to Brother.

"Say, Nellie Yarrow says you're going to be in the first grade at
school this term," he said to Mickey. "I'm going to be in first
grade, too. We'll be in the same room."

"Don't know as I'm going to school," declared Mickey perversely.
"I didn't go much last year."

"Wouldn't--wouldn't your 'father let you?" suggested Sister
timidly.

Mickey flushed a little.

"Aw, it wasn't so much his fault, leastways he said he didn't care
if I went," he muttered, digging his bare foot into the gravel on
one side of the stone flagging. "After they had him arrested he
said I had to go."

"Didn't you want to go?" urged Brother, round-eyed. "I think it's
lots of fun to go to school."

"Guess you wouldn't think so if you didn't have some shoes and a
good coat," retorted Mickey. "I ain't going to school this year,
either, if I can't have things to wear. None of the boys go
barefoot."

"But Nellie says Mr. Alexander got some shoes for you to wear,"
said Brother quickly.

"How would you like to wear somebody else's shoes?" inquired
Mickey with scorn. "They belonged to Ted Scott and he was always
looking at my feet when I wore 'em. I want some shoes of my OWN!"

"Couldn't your father buy you just one pair?" Sister asked.

"No, he couldn't," Mickey answered desperately. "He doesn't like
to work, and we had to sell Ted Scott's shoes this summer for
fifty cents. When the old man does work it takes all he makes to
buy grub. My mother takes in washing to pay the rent."

Mickey told them this jerkily, as though against his will, and
kind-hearted little Brother thought perhaps they had asked too
many questions.

"Maybe you could earn money yourself," he said presently. "I'm
going to ask Daddy. You just wait, Mickey."

"I wouldn't mind earning SOME money," admitted Mickey cautiously.
"But it takes a LOT for new shoes. And they got to be new."

Brother and Sister hurried home, eager to see Daddy Morrison, and
ask his advice. They found him reading on the porch and waiting
for dinner.

"Oh, Daddy!" Sister rushed for him. "Daddy, how can Mickey Gaffney
earn enough money to buy a whole pair of new shoes?"

"A whole pair of shoes?" repeated Daddy, laughing. "Why, Daughter,
I suppose a way can be found, if he must have them. Who is this
Mickey Gaffney?"

Sister told about Mickey, and Brother helped her, and when they
had finished, Daddy Morrison knew all about Mickey and his school
troubles.

"Being red-headed and Irish, I don't suppose he will let me GIVE
him the money," he mused. "Let's see, what can a chap that age do?
He must be seven or eight years old--I've seen him hanging around
the station, ready to carry suitcases. I wonder if he couldn't
help the boys with the garden?"

"I'll pay him if he can weed," grinned Jimmie, who had been
listening. "And Ralph was saying last week that he wasn't going to
have time to take his turn at garden work--he wants to go in on an
earlier train."

"All right, we'll tell Ralph that Mickey is open for an
engagement," said Daddy Morrison. "We'll start him in the garden
and then perhaps other odd jobs will turn up."

"Dinner is ready, folks," called Mother Morrison, and they all
went into the dining-room.

"I want Mickey to earn a whole lot of money," declared Sister that
night as they were getting ready for bed. "Pulling weeds is such
slow work. He'll have to pull an awful lot to work an hour."

After Mother had kissed them good-night and put out the light, a
big idea came to Sister.

"I know what we'll do!" she asserted, sitting up in bed. "Listen,
Roddy, Ellis Carr said his father said Miss Putnam worked too
hard. Well, why can't Mickey help her?"

"Maybe he can," murmured Brother sleepily. "Only she wont like
him, 'cause he's a boy."





CHAPTER XXI

BROTHER AND SISTER PAY A CALL


Sister's first thought in the morning was Mickey and Miss Putnam.
"It's too bad he is a boy," she admitted, referring to Mickey,
"because Miss Putnam doesn't like children. But if Mickey was
grown up he wouldn't have to have shoes to wear to school, because
he wouldn't go to school."

"Sister, your reasoning is all right," Ralph praised her. "Perhaps
you will grow up to be a lawyer like your father and brothers."

"Oh, no," said Sister positively and sweetly. "When I grow up I'm
going to be a farmer."

After breakfast, she helped Brother clear the table and brush the
crumbs, and then she dragged him out to the porch steps to consult
with him.

"We have to go see Miss Putnam," she whispered. "About Mickey, you
know."

Brother looked frightened.

"She won't let us in," he said in alarm. "She thinks we threw tar
on her porch. 'Sides, can't Mickey go see her?"

"No, we want to have it all fixed for him," explained Sister
patiently. "Mickey is scared of her, too, and maybe he wouldn't
go. But if she says yes, he can work for her, he'll go work 'cause
he wants the shoes. Come on, Roddy, I'm not afraid."

"Will you do the talking?" suggested Brother.

Sister promised to "do the talking," and without saying anything
to anyone in the house, the small boy and girl set out for the
"terrible" Miss Putnam's.

In her heart of hearts, Sister was very much afraid of the cross
old lady, and when they turned in at her gate she was almost ready
to run home. But she remembered Mickey and how sadly he needed the
new shoes, so she lifted the brass knocker on the white door and
waited as bravely as she could.

"Land sakes!" gasped Miss Putnam when she came to the door. "What
on earth do you want?"

This wasn't a very gracious welcome, and Sister stuttered a little
from nervousness as she said they wanted to speak to her.

"Come in then," said Miss Putnam shortly. "Mind you wipe your
feet, and don't scratch the rounds of the chairs with your heels."

She led them into a tiny sitting-room and Brother and Sister sat
down on two hard, straight chairs while Miss Putnam took the only
rocker.

"Well?" she asked expectantly.

"We've come about Mickey Gaffney," said Sister hurriedly. "He
hasn't any shoes to wear to school and he wants to earn money to
buy 'em. He's going to work for us, some, but school starts in
about three weeks and we're afraid he won't have enough money."

"And couldn't he work for you?" chimed in Brother bravely,
determined not to let his sister have to do all the talking.

"Why, I do need a man to do odd jobs," said Miss Putnam quite
mildly. "Is he very strong?"

You see, she hadn't listened very carefully to Sister, or else she
didn't stop to think--no man wants shoes to wear to school.

"Yes'm, he's pretty strong," Sister assured her earnestly. "He's
eight years old and big for his age."

"Eight years old!" echoed Miss Putnam. "Why, that's a mere BABY!
What can such a child do to earn money?"

"Mickey can run errands and sweep and weed the garden," recited
Brother, gaining confidence since Miss Putnam neither shouted at
them nor chased them from her house. "He can dry dishes, too--he
says he does 'em for his mother."

Miss Putnam thought for a few moments.

"I'm going to need someone to do errands for me this winter when I
can't get around," she said slowly. "And I've about broke my back
in the garden this summer. But boys are noisy, careless creatures
--I don't know as I could stand a boy around me."

"Oh, Mickey is nice," Sister hastened to explain. "He's going to
grow up and support his mother. He won't make any more noise than
he can help."

Miss Putnam smiled grimly.

"I guess that's true," she said. "Well, tell your Mickey to come
round and see me, and if he doesn't charge too much, perhaps we
can suit each other."

Brother and Sister trotted home, well-pleased with the success of
their errand. It was something to have secured the promise of more
work for Mickey.

"There he is now!" exclaimed Brother, spying the flaming red head
of the Gaffney boy ahead of them. "Hey, Mickey!"

Mickey was on his way to the grocery store for soap, he informed
them.

"Wait a minute," said Brother. "We want to tell you--Daddy says
you can help Jimmie and Ralph in our garden and they will pay you,
by the hour, Ralph says. And Miss Putnam says you can run errands
for her."

"Miss Putnam?" repeated Mickey, surprised. "Miss Putnam wouldn't
have a boy in her yard."

"Yes, she will," declared Sister. "She said so. And you can run
errands after school this winter when she can't get around--she
said so, didn't she, Roddy?"

Brother nodded.

"It would be kind of nice to have a job this winter, wouldn't it?"
said Mickey thoughtfully. "My mother would like that. Well, if
you're sure Miss Putnam won't come out with a broom when she sees
me, I'll go."

"No, she won't," Sister assured him. "I don't believe she's so
cross when you know her."

"'Cept about tar," said Brother sorrowfully.

Mickey looked at them, mystified.

"What about tar?" he asked. "Has Miss Putnam any?"





CHAPTER XXII

MICKEY OWNS UP


Brother told Mickey the tar incident in a few words.

"And you can't make her believe Betty and I didn't put it on her
porch," he concluded. "She's just 'termined we did it."

"And she sent the policeman to your house and all," mused Mickey.
"Gee!"

His face was rather red and he looked at Brother and Sister
queerly. He opened his mouth as though to say something, then
apparently changed his mind.

"Well, we have to go home," declared Brother. "You'll go see Miss
Putnam, won't you, Mickey?"

"I suppose so," muttered Mickey. "So long!"

"Maybe he doesn't like it," said Sister as they went on toward
their house.

"Oh, yes he does," replied Brother confidently. "He'll go, you see
if he doesn't."

Mickey Gaffney did go see Miss Putnam, and something about him
made the old lady like him right away. She engaged him to do
errands for her an hour in the morning, and again in the
afternoon, and she paid him fifteen cents an hour. If he weeded in
the garden that was to be extra.

"Will you have enough for your shoes?" asked Sister anxiously one
morning, when Mickey came to do some weeding in the garden for
Jimmie.

"My, yes, and I guess I can buy my little sister a pair," said
Mickey proudly.

"Have you a little sister?" demanded Brother and Sister together.
"How old is she?"

"Five," answered Mickey, getting down on his hands and knees and
going at the weeds in a business-like way. "She'll be five next
month."

"Isn't that nice!" commented Sister. "I'm five years old, too."

Mickey avoided her eyes and was apparently too busy to talk much
to them, so by and by Brother and Sister ran off and left him to
his weeding.

If they had stayed, they might have seen Mickey throw down his
weeding-fork suddenly and march out of the garden.

"Don't believe that boy is going to stick to his work," said Molly
to Mother Morrison. "He's gone already."

But Mickey was hurrying along toward Miss Putnam's house and did
not care very much what anyone thought of him. He didn't think
kindly of himself at that moment.

"Why, Mickey!" Miss Putnam looked up at him in amazement as he
came around to the back porch where she was sweeping a rug.
"What's the matter, child, don't you feel well?"

"I feel all right," he said briefly. "Say, Miss Putnam, you know
that tar that was on your porch? I threw it!"

"You--you what?" gasped Miss Putnam. "You threw that hot tar all
over my clean porch and walk? Why, Mickey!"

"Yes'm," muttered Mickey miserably.

"But why?" insisted Miss Putnam. "And Mrs. Graham told me that the
Morrison boy and girl did it."

"Guess she thought she saw 'em--it was most dark," said Mickey.
"But it wasn't Roddy and Betty. I did it, and Nina, my little
sister, helped me."

"But why?" persisted Miss Putnam. "I never should have thought it
of you, Mickey, never."

Strange as it may seem, Miss Putnam really liked Mickey. He was so
willing and so cheerful and so quick that the old lady who had had
to do all the work of her small home so long that she had
forgotten how it felt to have younger hands helping her, began to
look forward to Mickey's coming every day.

And Mickey liked Miss Putnam. He found she was very fair about
time and reasonable about the amount of work she expected him to
accomplish. The fact that he was barefooted did not seem to bother
her and she treated him exactly as though his clothes were whole
instead of torn and poorly patched.

Now when she asked him why he had thrown the tar, it was hard for
him to tell the truth. But he did. When Mickey once made up his
mind to do a thing, he always went through with it.

"It was 'count of the barbwire," Mickey explained in a low voice.
"I didn't know you put it up, and I climbed the fence one night,
to scare you through the window, and I thought you'd run out and
chase me. And I tore my coat on the wire and scratched my face. So
after that I was always looking for a chance to get even."

"When I saw the tar, I came back after supper and made Nina carry
it for me while I slung it--we had a tin bucket. I'm awful sorry,
Miss Putnam; honest I am!"

"But--did you let me send a policeman to the Morrison's house?"
asked Miss Putnam uncertainly.

"I never knew about that till just before I came here to work,"
said Mickey earnestly. "And ever since I've felt mean as dirt, not
telling. Nina is just as old as Betty. It wasn't her fault--
Nina's, I mean; she does whatever I tell her to."

"Well, I'll go call on Mrs. Morrison this afternoon," said Miss
Putnam briskly. "And then I'll take down that wire. I don't need
it now anyway, for the children don't bother me since you're here.
I guess they're afraid you'd catch them if you should chase them,"
she smiled grimly.

"And I can go right on working?" suggested Mickey anxiously.

"Of course, child. Why not?" said Miss Putnam.

That settled Mickey's last worry. With a hurried "thank you," he
dashed away, out through the yard and up the street. He wanted to
find Brother and Sister and tell them what he had done.

"My goodness, I think you're ever so brave," said Sister when she
had heard his story. "I'd be scared to death to tell Miss Putnam
like that."

"Pooh, she's all right," answered Mickey. "I like her. And now I
have a lot of time to make up--most half an hour."

"School begins two weeks from today," announced Brother, watching
Mickey tackle an onion row. "You're sure you're going, Mickey?"

"Of course," said Mickey proudly. "I'll stop for you the first
morning just to prove it."

"And we'll go every day and never be late once, will we?" chimed
in Sister.

But whether they were able to keep this good resolution or not
remains to be seen. If you are interested to know you will have to
read the next book about them, called "BROTHER AND SISTER'S SCHOOL
DAYS."



THE END







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