 THE CORNER HOUSE GIRLS AT SCHOOL

 BY GRACE BROOKS HILL

Author of "The Corner House Girls, " "The Corner House Girls UnderCanvas, " etc. 

 _ILLUSTRATED BY R. EMMETT OWEN_

GROSSET & DUNLAPPUBLISHERS NEW YORK

Copyright, 1915By BARSE & CO. 

_Printed in the United States of America_

[Illustration: Agnes stooped lower and shot up the course, passing Trixnot three yards from the line. ]

CONTENTS

 I A Goat, Four Girls, and a Pig

 II The White-headed Boy

 III The Pig is Important

 IV Neale O'Neil Gets Established

 V Crackers--and a Toothache

 VI Agnes Loses Her Temper and Dot Her Tooth

 VII Neale in Disguise

 VIII Introductions

 IX Popocatepetl in Mischief

 X The Ice Storm

 XI The Skating Race

 XII The Christmas Party

 XIII The Barn Dance

 XIV Uncle Rufus' Story of the Christmas Goose

 XV Sadie Goronofsky's Bank

 XVI A Quartette of "Lady Bountifuls"

 XVII "That Circus Boy!"

 XVIII Snowbound

 XIX The Enchanted Castle

 XX Trix Severn in Peril

 XXI A Backyard Circus

 XXII Mr. Sorber

 XXIII Taming a Lion Tamer

 XXIV Mr. Murphy Takes a Hand

 XXV A Bright Future

THE CORNER HOUSE GIRLS AT SCHOOL

CHAPTER I

A GOAT, FOUR GIRLS, AND A PIG

When Sam Pinkney brought Billy Bumps over to the old Corner House, andtied him by the corner of the woodshed, there was at once a familyconclave called. Sam was never known to be into anything but mischief;therefore when he gravely presented the wise looking old goat to Tess, suspicion was instantly aroused in the Kenway household that there wassomething beside good will behind Master Sam's gift. 

"Beware of the Greeks when they come bearing gifts, " Agnes freelytranslated. 

"But you know very well, Aggie, Sammy Pinkney is not a Greek. He'sYankee--like us. That's a Greek man that sells flowers down on MainStreet, " said Tess, with gravity. 

"What I said is allegorical, " pronounced Agnes, loftily. 

"We know Allie Neuman--Tess and me, " ventured Dot, the youngest of theCorner House girls. "She lives on Willow Street beyond Mrs. Adams'house, and she is going to be in my grade at school. "

"Oh, fine, Ruth!" cried Agnes, the twelve-year-old, suddenly seizing theeldest sister and dancing her about the big dining-room. "Won't it bejust _fine_ to get to school again?"

"Fine for me, " admitted Ruth, who had missed nearly two years of schoolattendance, and was now going to begin again in her proper grade at theMilton High School. 

"Eva Larry says we'll have the very nicest teacher there is--MissShipman. This is Eva's last year in grammar school, too, you know. We'llgraduate together, " said Agnes. 

Interested as Tess and Dot were in the prospect of attending school inMilton for the first time, just now they had run in to announce thearrival of Mr. Billy Bumps. 

"And a very suggestive name, I must say, " said Ruth, reflectively. "Idon't know about that Pinkney boy. Do you suppose he is playing a jokeon you, Tess?"

"Why, no!" cried the smaller girl. "How could he? _For the goat'sthere. _"

"Maybe that's the joke, " suggested Agnes. 

"Well, we'll go and see him, " said Ruth. "But there must be some reasonbeside good-will that prompted that boy to give you such a present. "

"I know, " Dot said, solemnly. 

"What is it, Chicken-little?" demanded the oldest sister, pinching thelittle girl's cheek. 

"Their new minister, " proclaimed Dot. 

"Their _what_?" gasped Agnes. 

"Who, dear?" asked Ruth. 

"Mrs. Pinkney's new minister. She goes to the Kaplan Chapel, " said Dot, gravely, "and they got a new minister there. He came to call at Mrs. Pinkney's and the goat wasn't acquainted with him. "

"Oh-ho!" giggled Agnes. "Light on a dark subject. "

"Who told you, child?" asked Tess, rather doubtfully. 

"Holly Pease. And she said that Billy Bumps butted the new ministerright through the cellar window--the coal window. "

"My goodness!" ejaculated Ruth. "Did it hurt him?"

"They'd just put in their winter's coal, and he went head first intothat, " said Dot. "So he didn't fall far. But he didn't dare go out ofthe house again until Sam came home after school and shut Billy up. Holly says Billy Bumps camped right outside the front door and kept theminister a prisoner. "

The older girls were convulsed with laughter at this tale, but Ruthrepeated: "We might as well go and see him. If he is _very_ savage----"

"Oh, he isn't!" cried Tess and Dot together. "He's just as tame!"

The four sisters started for the yard, but in the big kitchen Mrs. MacCall stopped them. Mrs. MacCall was housekeeper and she mothered theorphaned Kenway girls and seemed much nearer to them than Aunt SarahMaltby, who sat most of her time in the big front room upstairs, seldomspeaking to her nieces. 

Mrs. MacCall was buxom, gray-haired--and every hair was martialed just_so_, and all imprisoned in a cap when the good lady was cooking. Shewas looking out of one of the rear windows when the girls troopedthrough. 

"For the land sakes!" ejaculated Mrs. MacCall. "What's that goat doingin our yard?"

"It's our goat, " explained Tess. 

_"What?"_

"Yes, ma'am, " said Dot, seriously. "He's a very nice goat. He has a realnoble beard--don't you think?"

"A goat!" repeated Mrs. MacCall. "What next? A goat is the very lastthing I could ever find a use for in this world. But I s'pose theCreator knew what He was about when He made them. "

"I think they're lots of fun, " said roly-poly Agnes, giggling again. 

"Fun! Ah! what's that he's eatin' this very minute?" screamed Mrs. MacCall, and she started for the door. 

She led the way to the porch, and immediately plunged down the stepsinto the yard. "My stocking!" she shrieked. "The very best pair I own. Oh, dear! Didn't I say a goat was a perfectly useless thing?"

It was a fact that a limp bit of black rag hung out of the side of BillyBumps' mouth. A row of stockings hung on a line stretched from thecorner of the woodshed and the goat had managed to reach the first inthe row. 

"Give it up, you beast!" exclaimed Mrs. MacCall, and grabbed the toe ofthe stocking just as it was about to disappear. 

She yanked and Billy disgorged the hose. He had chewed it to pulp, evidently liking the taste of the dye. Mrs. MacCall threw the thing fromher savagely and Billy lowered his head, stamped his feet, andthreatened her with his horns. 

"Oh, I'm so sorry, Mrs. MacCall!" cried Ruth, soothingly. 

"That won't bring back my stocking, " declared the housekeeper. "Half apair of stockings--humph! that's no good to anybody, unless it's aperson with a wooden leg. "

"I'll get you a new pair, Mrs. MacCall, " said Tess. "Of course, I'm sortof responsible for Billy, for he was given to me. "

"You'll be bankrupt, I'm afraid, Tess, " chuckled Agnes, "if you try tomake good for all the damage a goat can do. "

"But it won't cost much to keep him, " said Tess, eagerly. "You know, they live on tin cans, and scraps, and thistles, and all sorts of_cheap_ things. "

"Those stockings weren't cheap, " declared the housekeeper as she tookher departure. "They cost seventy-five cents. "

"Half your month's allowance, Tess, " Dot reminded her, with awe. "Oh, dear, me! Maybe Billy Bumps will be expensive, after all. "

"Say! Ruth hasn't said you can keep him yet, " said Agnes. "He looksdangerous to me. He has a bad eye. "

"Why! he's just as kind!" cried Tess, and immediately walked up to theold goat. At once Billy stopped shaking his head, looked up, and bleatedsoftly. He was evidently assured of the quality of Tess Kenway'skindness. 

"He likes me, " declared Tess, with conviction. 

"Glo-ree!" ejaculated a deep and unctuous voice, on the heels of Tess'declaration. "Wha's all dis erbout--heh! Glo-ree! Who done let dat goatintuh disher yard? Ain' dat Sam Pinkney's ol' Billy?"

A white-haired, broadly smiling old negro, stooped and a bit lame withrheumatism, but otherwise spry, came from the rear premises of the oldCorner House, and stopped to roll his eyes, first glancing at thechildren and then at the goat. 

"Whuffor all disher combobberation? Missee Ruth! Sho' ain' gwine tuhtake dat ole goat tuh boa'd, is yo'?"

"I don't know what to do, Uncle Rufus, " declared Ruth Kenway, laughing, yet somewhat disturbed in her mind. She was a dark, straight-hairedgirl, with fine eyes and a very intelligent face. She was not prettylike Agnes; yet she was a very attractive girl. 

"Oh! we want to keep him!" wailed Dot. She, too, boldly approached BillyBumps. It seemed as though the goat knew both the smaller Kenway girls, for he did not offer to draw away from them. 

"I 'spect Mr. Pinkney made dat Sam git rid ob de ole goat, " grumbledUncle Rufus, who was a very trustworthy servant and had lived for yearsat the old Corner House before the four Kenway sisters came to dwellthere. "I reckon he's a bad goat, " added the old man. 

"He doesn't look very wicked just now, " suggested Agnes. 

"But where can we keep a goat?" demanded Ruth. 

"Dot used to think one lived in the garret, " said Tess, smiling. "But itwas only a ghost folks thought lived there--and we know there aren't anysuch things as ghosts _now_. "

"Don' yo' go tuh 'spressin' ob you' 'pinion too frequent erbout sperits, chile, " warned Uncle Rufus, rolling his eyes again. "Dere may hab beenno ghos' in de garret; but dere's ghos'es somewhars--ya-as'm. Sho' is!"

"I don't really see how we can keep him, " said Ruth again. 

"Oh, sister!" cried Tess. 

"Poor, dear Billy Bumps!" exclaimed Dot, with an arm around the short, thick neck of the goat. 

"If yo' lets me 'spressify maself, " said Uncle Rufus, slowly, "I'd saydat mebbe I could put him in one oh de hen runs. We don't need 'em bothjest now. "

"Goody!" cried Tess and Dot, clapping their hands. "Let's, Ruthie!"

The older sister's doubts were overborne. She agreed to the proposal, while Agnes said:

"We might as well have a goat. We have a pig 'most every day. That pigof Mr. Con Murphy's is always coming under the fence and tearing up thegarden. A goat could do no more harm. "

"But we don't want the place a menagerie, " objected Ruth. 

Dot said, gravely, "Maybe the goat and the pig will play together, andso the pig won't do so much damage. "

"The next time that pig comes in here, I'm going right around to Mr. ConMurphy and complain, " declared Agnes, with emphasis. 

"Oh! we don't want to have trouble with any neighbor, " objected Ruth, quickly. 

"My! you'd let folks ride right over you, " said Agnes, with scorn forRuth's timidity. 

"I don't think that poor cobbler, Mr. Murphy, will ride over me--unlesshe rides on his pig, " laughed Ruth, as she followed Mrs. MacCallindoors. 

Tess had an idea and she was frank to express it. "Uncle Rufus, thisgoat is very strong. Can't you fashion a harness and some kind of a cartfor him so that we can take turns riding--Dot and me? He used to drawSam Pinkney. "

"Glo-ree!" grumbled the colored man again. "I kin see where I got myhan's full wid disher goat--I do!"

"But you _can_, Uncle Rufus?" said Tess. 

"Oh, yes, chile. I s'pect so. But fust off let me git him shut up in dehen-yard, else he'll be eatin' up de hull ob Mis' MacCall'swash--ya'as'm!"

The poultry pens were fenced with strong woven wire, and one of them wasnot in use. Into this enclosure Mr. Billy Bumps was led. When the strapwas taken off, he made a dive for Uncle Rufus, but the darky was nimble, despite his years. 

"Yo' butt me, yo' horned scalawag!" gasped the old colored man, whenonce safe on the outside of the pen, "an' I won't gib yo' nottin' terchew on but an old rubber boot fo' de nex' week--dat's what I'll do. "

The old Corner House, as the Stower homestead was known to Milton folk, stood facing Main Street, its side yard running back a long way onWillow Street. It was a huge colonial mansion, with big pillars infront, and two wings thrown out behind. For years before the Kenwaygirls and Aunt Sarah Maltby had come here to live, the premisesoutside--if not within--had been sadly neglected. 

But energetic Ruth Kenway had insisted upon trimming the lawn andhedges, planting a garden, repairing the summer-house, and otherwisemaking neat the appearance of the dilapidated old place. 

On the Main Street side of the estate the property of Mr. Creamer joinedthe Corner House yard, but the Creamer property did not extend back asfar as that of the Stower place. In the corner at the rear the tiny yardof Con Murphy touched the big place. Mr. Murphy was a cobbler, who heldtitle to a small house and garden on a back street. 

This man owned a pig--a very friendly pig. Of that pig, more later!

Perhaps it was the fruit that attracted the pig into the Stower yard. The Kenway girls had had plenty of cherries, peaches, apples, pears, andsmall fruit all through the season. There were still some late peachesripening, and when Agnes Kenway happened to open her eyes early, thevery next morning after the goat came to live with them, she saw theblushing beauty of these peaches through the open window of the ell roomshe shared with Ruth. 

Never had peaches looked so tempting! The tree was a tall seedling, andthe upper branches hung their burden near the open window. 

All the lower limbs had been stripped by Uncle Rufus. But the old mancould not reach these at the top of the tree. 

"It will be a mean shame for them to get ripe and fall off, " thoughtAgnes. "I believe I can reach them. "

Up she hopped and slipped into her bathrobe. Just enough cool airentered the room to urge her to pull on her hose and slip her feet intoslippers. 

The window was at the back of the big house, away from the Willow Streetside, and well protected from observation (so Agnes thought) by theshrubbery. 

Below the window was a narrow ledge which ran around the house under thesecond story windows. It took the reckless girl but a moment to get outupon this ledge. To tell the truth she had tried this caper before--butnever at such an early hour. 

Clinging to the window frame, she leaned outward, and grasped with herother hand a laden, limb. The peaches were right before her; but shecould not pluck them. 

"Oh! if I only had a third hand, " cried Agnes, aloud. 

Then, recklessly determined to reach the fruit, she let go of the windowframe and stretched her hand for the nearest blushing peach. To herhorror she found her body swinging out from the side of the house!

Her weight bore against the limb, and pushed it farther and farther awayfrom the house-wall; Agnes' peril was plain and imminent. Unable toseize the window frame again and draw herself back, she was about tofall between the peach tree and the side of the house!

CHAPTER II

THE WHITE-HEADED BOY

"The Corner House Girls, " as they had come to be known to Milton folk, and as they are known to the readers of the first volume of this series, had occupied the great mansion opposite the lower end of the ParadeGround, since the spring before. 

They had come from Bloomingsburg, where their father and mother haddied, leaving them without guardianship. But when Uncle Peter Stowerdied and left most of his property to his four nieces, Mr. Howbridge, the lawyer, had come for the Kenway sisters and established them in theold Corner House. 

Here they had spent the summer getting acquainted with Milton folk(making themselves liked by most of the neighbors), and graduallygetting used to their changed circumstances. 

For in Bloomingsburg the Kenways had lived among very poor people, andwere very poor themselves. Now they were very fortunately conditioned, having a beautiful home, plenty of money to spend (under the directionof Mr. Howbridge) and the opportunity of making many friends. 

With them, to the old mansion, had come Aunt Sarah Maltby. Really, shewas no relation at all to the Kenway girls, but she had lived with themever since they could remember. 

In her youth Aunt Sarah had lived in the old Corner House, so thisseemed like home to her. Uncle Rufus had served the aforetime owner ofthe place for many years, too; so _he_ was at home here. And as for Mrs. MacCall, she had come to help Ruth and her sisters soon after theirestablishment in the old Corner House, and by this time had grown to beindispensable. 

This was the household, saving Sandyface, the cat, and her fourkittens--Spotty, Almira, Popocatepetl and Bungle. And now there was thegoat, Mr. Billy Bumps. 

Ruth was an intellectual looking girl--so people said. She had littlecolor, and her black hair was "stringy"--which she hated! Now that shewas no longer obliged to consider the expenditure of each dollar socarefully, the worried look about her big brown eyes, and thecompression of her lips, had relaxed. For two years Ruth had been thehead of the household and it had made her old before her time. 

She was only a girl yet, however; her sixteenth birthday was not longbehind her. She liked fun and was glad of the release from much of herformer care. And when she laughed, her eyes were brilliant and her mouthsurprisingly sweet. 

The smaller girls--Tess (nobody ever called her Theresa) andDorothy--were both pretty and lively. Dot was Ruth in miniature, alittle, fairy-like brunette. Tess, who was ten, had a very kind heartand was tactful. She had some of Ruth's dignity and more of Agnes' goodlooks. 

The twelve year old--the fly-away--the irrepressible--what shall we sayabout her? That she laughed easily, cried stormily, was always playingpranks, rather tomboyish, affectionate--utterly thoughtless----

Well, there is Agnes, out of the bedroom window in her bathrobe andslippers just at dawn, with the birds chirping their first chorus, andnot a soul about (so she supposed) to either see or help her in hersudden predicament. 

She really was in danger; there was no doubt of it. A scream for helpwould not bring Ruth in time; and it was doubtful if her older sistercould do anything to help her. 

"Oh--_oh_--OH!" gasped Agnes, in crescendo. "I--am--go--ing--to--fall!"

And on the instant--the very sweetest sound Agnes Kenway had ever heard(she admitted this fact afterward)--a boy's voice ejaculated:

"No you're not! Hang on for one minute!"

The side gate clicked. Feet scurried across the lawn, and under her asshe glanced downward, Agnes saw a slim, white-faced youth appear. He hadwhite hair, too; he was a regular tow-head. He was dressed in a shinyblack suit that was at least two full sizes too small for him. Thetrousers hitched above his shoe-tops and the sleeves of his jacket wereso short that they displayed at least four inches of wrist. 

Agnes took in these points on the instant--before she could say anotherword. The boy was a stranger to her; she had never seen him before. 

But he went to work just as though he had been introduced! He flung offhis cap and stripped off the jacket, too, in a twinkling. It seemed toAgnes as though he climbed up the tree and reached the limb she clung toas quickly as any cat. 

He flung up his legs, wound them about the butt of the limb like twoblack snakes, and seized Agnes' wrists. "Swing free--I've got you!" hecommanded. 

Agnes actually obeyed. There was something impelling in his voice; butlikewise she felt that there was sufficient strength in those hands thatgrasped her wrists, to hold her. 

Her feet slipped from the ledge and she shot down. The white-haired boyswung out, too, but they did not fall as Agnes agonizingly expected, after she had trusted herself to the unknown. 

There was some little shock, but not much; their bodies swung clear ofthe tree--he with his head down, and she with her slippered feet almosttouching the wet grass. 

"All right?" demanded the white-head. "Let go!"

He dropped her. She stood upright, and unhurt, but swayed a little, weakly. The next instant he was down and stood, breathing quickly, before her. 

"Why--why--why!" gasped Agnes. Just like that! "Why, you did that justlike a circus. "

Oddly enough the white-haired boy scowled and a dusky color came slowlyinto his naturally pale cheek. 

"What do you say that for?" he asked, dropping his gaze, and picking uphis cap and jacket. "What do you mean--circus?"

"Why, " said Agnes, breathlessly, "just like one of those acrobats thatfly over the heads of the people, and do all those curious things in theair----Why! you know. "

"How do I know?" demanded the boy, quite fiercely. 

It became impressed upon Agnes' mind that the stranger was angry. Shedid not know why, and she only felt gratitude--and curiosity--towardhim. 

"Didn't you ever go to a circus?" she asked, slowly. 

The boy hesitated. Then he said, bluntly: "No!" and Agnes knew it wasthe truth, for he looked now unwaveringly into her eyes. 

"My! you've missed a lot, " she breathed. "So did we till this summer. Then Mr. Howbridge took us to one of those that came to Milton. "

"What circus was it you went to?" the boy asked, quickly. 

"Aaron Wall's Magnificent Double Show, " repeated Agnes, carefully. "There was another came--Twomley & Sorter's Herculean Circus andMenagerie; but we didn't see that one. "

The boy listened as though he considered the answer of some importance. At the end he sighed. "No; I never went to a circus, " he repeated. 

"But you're just wonderful, " Agnes declared. "I never saw a boy likeyou. "

"And I never saw a girl like you, " returned the white-haired boy, andhis quick grin made him look suddenly friendly. "What did you crawl outof that window for?"

"To get a peach. "

"Did you get it?"

"No. It was just out of reach, after all. And then I leaned too far. "

The boy was looking up quizzically at the high-hung fruit. "If you wantit awfully bad?" he suggested. 

"There's more than one, " said Agnes, giggling. "And you're welcome toall you can pick. "

"Do you mean it?" he shot in, at once casting cap and jacket on theground again. 

"Yes. Help yourself. Only toss me down one. "

"This isn't a joke, now?" the boy asked. "You've got a _right_ to tellme to take 'em?"

"Oh, mercy! Yes!" ejaculated Agnes. "Do you think I'd tell a story?"

"I don't know, " he said, bluntly. 

"Well! I like _that_!" cried Agnes, with some vexation. 

"I don't know you and you don't know me, " said the boy. "Everybody thatI meet doesn't tell me the truth. So now!"

"Do _you_ always tell the truth?" demanded Agnes, shrewdly. 

Again the boy flushed, but there was roguishness in his brown eyes. "Idon't _dare_ tell it--sometimes, " he said. 

"Well, there's nobody to scare _me_ into story-telling, " said Agnes, loftily, deciding that she did not like this boy so well, after all. 

"Oh, I'll risk it--for the peaches, " said the white-haired boy, comingback to the--to him--principal subject of discussion, and immediately heclimbed up the tree. 

Agnes gasped again. "My goodness!" she thought. "I know Sandyfacecouldn't go up that tree any quicker--not even with Sam Pinkney'sbulldog after her. "

He was a slim boy and the limbs scarcely bent under his weight--not evenwhen he was in the top of the tree. He seemed to know just how tobalance himself, while standing there, and fearlessly used both hands topick the remaining fruit. 

Two of the biggest, handsomest peaches he dropped, one after the other, into the lap of Agnes' thick bath-gown as she held it up before her. Theremainder of the fruit he bestowed about his own person, dropping itthrough the neck of his shirt until the peaches quite swelled out itsfullness all about his waist. His trousers were held in place by a stoutstrap, instead of by suspenders. 

He came down from the tree as easily as he had climbed it--and with thepeaches intact. 

"They must have a fine gymnasium at the school where you go, " saidAgnes, admiringly. 

"I never went to school, " said the boy, and blushed again. 

Agnes was very curious. She had already established herself on the porchstep, wrapped the robe closely around her, shook her two plaits backover her shoulders, and now sunk her teeth into the first peach. Withher other hand she beckoned the white-haired boy to sit down beside her. 

"Come and eat them, " she said. "Breakfast won't be ready for ever andever so long yet. "

The boy removed the peaches he had picked, and made a little pyramid ofthem on the step. Then he put on his jacket and cap before he acceptedher invitation. Meanwhile Agnes was eating the peach and contemplatinghim gravely. 

She had to admit, now that she more closely inspected them, that thewhite-haired boy's garments were extremely shabby. Jacket and trouserswere too small for him, as she had previously observed. His shirt wasfaded, very clean, and the elbows were patched. His shoes were broken, but polished brightly. 

When he bit into the first peach his eye brightened and he ate the fruitgreedily. Agnes believed he must be very hungry, and for once thenext-to-the-oldest Kenway girl showed some tact. 

"Will you stay to breakfast with us?" she asked. "Mrs. MacCall alwaysgets up at six o'clock. And Ruth will want to see you, too. Ruth's theoldest of us Kenways. "

"Is this a boarding-house?" asked the boy, seriously. 

"Oh, no!"

"It's big enough. "

"I 'spect it is, " said Agnes. "There are lots of rooms we never use. "

"Could--could a feller get to stay here?" queried the white-haired boy. 

"Oh! I don't know, " gasped Agnes. "You--you'd have to ask Ruth. And Mr. Howbridge, perhaps. "

"Who's he?" asked the boy, suspiciously. 

"Our lawyer. "

"Does he live here?"

"Oh, no. There isn't any man here but Uncle Rufus. He's a colored manwho lived with Uncle Peter who used to own this house. Uncle Peter gaveit to us Kenway girls when he died. "

"Oh! then you own it?" asked the boy. 

"Mr. Howbridge is the executor of the estate; but we four Kenwaygirls--and Aunt Sarah--have the income from it. And we came to live inthis old Corner House almost as soon as Uncle Peter Stower died. "

"Then you could take boarders if you wanted to?" demanded thewhite-haired boy, sticking to his proposition like a leech. 

"Why--maybe--I'd ask Ruth----"

"I'd pay my way, " said the boy, sharply, and flushing again. She couldsee that he was a very proud boy, in spite of his evident poverty. 

"I've got some money saved. I'd earn more--after school. I'm going toschool across the Parade Ground there--when it opens. I've already seenthe superintendent of schools. He says I belong in the highest grammargrade. "

"Why!" cried Agnes, "that's the grade _I_ am going into. "

"I'm older than you are, " said the boy, with that quick, angry flushmounting into his cheeks. "I'm fifteen. But I never had a chance to goto school. "

"That is too bad, " said Agnes, sympathetically. She saw that he waseager to enter school and sympathized with him on that point, for shewas eager herself. 

"We'll have an awfully nice teacher, " she told him. "Miss Shipman. "

Just then Ruth appeared at the upper window and looked down upon them. 

CHAPTER III

THE PIG IS IMPORTANT

"My goodness! what are you doing down there, Aggie?" demanded Ruth. "Andwho's that with you!"

"I--I got up to get a peach, Ruthie, " explained Agnes, ratherstammeringly. "And I asked the boy to have one, too. "

Ruth, looking out of the bedroom window, expressed her amazement at thisstatement by a long, blank stare at her sister and the white-haired boy. Agnes felt that there was further explanation due from her. 

"You see, " she said, "he--he just saved my life--perhaps. "

"How is that?" gasped Ruth. "Were you going to eat _all_ those peachesby yourself! They might have killed you, that's a fact. "

"No, no!" cried Agnes, while the boy's face flushed up darkly again. "Hesaved me from falling out of the tree. "

"Out of the tree? _This_ tree!" demanded Ruth. "How did you get intoit?"

"From--from the window. "

"Goodness! you never! And with your bathrobe on!" ejaculated Ruth, hereyes opening wider. 

As an "explainer, " Agnes was deficient. But she tried to start the storyall over again. "Hush!" commanded Ruth, suddenly. "Wait till I comedown. We'll have everybody in the house awake, and it is too early. "

She disappeared and the boy looked doubtfully at Agnes. "Is she theoldest sister you spoke of?"

"Yes. That's Ruth. "

"She's kind of bossy, isn't she?"

"Oh! but we like to be bossed by Ruthie. She's just like mother was tous, " declared Agnes. 

"I shouldn't think you'd like it, " growled the white-haired boy. "I hateto be bossed--and I won't be, either!"

"You have to mind in school, " said Agnes, slowly. 

"That's another thing, " said the boy. "But I wouldn't let another boyboss me. "

In five minutes Ruth was down upon the back porch, too. She was neat andfresh and smiling. When Ruth smiled, dimples came at the corners of hermouth and the laughter jumped right out of her eyes at you in a mostunexpected way. The white-haired boy evidently approved of her, now thathe saw her close to. 

"Tell me how it happened!" commanded Ruth of her sister, and Agnes didso. In the telling the boy lost nothing of courage and dexterity, youmay be sure!

"Why, that's quite wonderful!" cried Ruth, smiling again at the boy. "Itwas awfully rash of you, Aggie, but it was providential this--this--Youhaven't told me his name?"

"Why! I don't know it myself, " confessed Agnes. 

"And after all he did for you!" exclaimed Ruth, in admonition. 

"Aw--it wasn't anything, " growled the boy, with all the sex's objectionto being thought a hero. 

"You must be very strong--a regular athlete, " declared Ruth. 

"Any other boy could do it. "

"No!"

"If he knew how, " limited the white-haired boy. 

"And how did you learn so much!" asked Ruth, curiously. 

Again the red flushed into his pale face. "Practicin'. That's all, " hesaid, rather doggedly. 

"Won't you tell us who you are?" asked Ruth, feeling that the boy waskeeping up a wall between them. 

"Neale O'Neil. "

"Do you live in Milton?"

"I do now. "

"But I never remember seeing you before, " Ruth said, puzzled. 

"I only came to stay yesterday, " confessed the boy, and once more hegrinned and his eyes were roguish. 

"Oh! then your folks have just moved in?"

"I haven't any folks. "

"No family at all?"

"No, ma'am, " said Neale O'Neil, rather sullenly Ruth thought

"You are not all alone--a boy like you?"

"Why not?" demanded he, tartly. "I'm 'most as old as you are. "

"But _I_ am not all alone, " said Ruth, pleasantly. "I have the girls--mysisters; and I have Aunt Sarah--and Mr. Howbridge. "

"Well, I haven't anybody, " confessed Neale O'Neil, rather gloomily. 

"You surely have some friends?" asked Ruth, not only curious, butsympathetic. 

"Not here. I'm alone, I tell you. " Yet he did not speak so ungratefullynow. It was impressed upon his mind that Ruth's questions were friendly. "And I am going to school here. I've got some money saved up. I want tofind a boarding place where I can part pay my board, perhaps, by workingaround. I can do lots of things. "

"I see. Look after furnaces, and clean up yards, and all that?"

"Yes, " said the boy, with heightened interest. "This other one--yoursister--says you have plenty of empty rooms in this big house. Would youtake a boarder?"

"Goodness me! I never thought of such a thing. "

"You took in that Mrs. Treble and Double Trouble, " whispered Agnes, whorather favored the suit of the white-haired boy. 

"They weren't boarders, " Ruth breathed. 

"No. But you could let him come just as well. " To tell the truth, Agneshad always thought that "a boy around the house would be awfullyhandy"--and had often so expressed herself. Dot had agreed with her, while Ruth and Tess held boys in general in much disfavor. 

Neale O'Neil had stood aside, not listening, but well aware that thesisters were discussing his suggestion. Finally he flung in: "I ain'tafraid to work. And I'm stronger than I look. "

"You _must_ be strong, Neale, " agreed Ruth, warmly, "if you did whatAggie says you did. But we have Uncle Rufus, and he does mosteverything, though he's old. I don't just know what to say to you. "

At that moment the sound of a sash flung up at the other side of the ellstartled the three young folk. Mrs. MacCall's voice sounded sharply onthe morning air:

"That pig! in that garden again! Shoo! Shoo, you beast! I wish you'd eatyourself to death and then maybe your master would keep you home!"

"Oh, oh, oh!" squealed Agnes. "Con Murphy's pig after our cabbages!"

"That pig again?" echoed Ruth, starting after the flying Agnes. 

The latter forgot how lightly she was shod, and before she was half-wayacross the lawn her feet and ankles were saturated with dew. 

"You'll get sopping wet, Aggie!" cried Ruth, seeing the bed slippersflopping, half off her sister's feet. 

"Can't help it now, " stammered Agnes. "Got to get that pig! Oh, Ruth!the hateful thing!"

The cobbler's porker was a freebooter of wide experience. The old CornerHouse yard was not the only forbidden premises he roved in. He alwaysdug a new hole under the fence at night, and appeared early in themorning, roving at will among the late vegetables in Ruth's garden. 

He gave a challenging grunt when he heard the girls, raised his head, and his eyes seemed fairly to twinkle as he saw their wild attack. Acabbage leaf hung crosswise in his jaws and he continued to champ uponit reflectively as he watched the enemy. 

"Shoo! Shoo!" shouted Agnes. 

"That pig is possessed, " moaned Ruth. "He's taken the very one I wasgoing to have Uncle Rufus cut for our Saturday's dinner. "

Seeing that the charging column numbered but two girls, the pig tossedhis head, uttered a scornful grunt, and started slowly out of thegarden. He was in no hurry. He had grown fat on these raids, and he didnot propose to lose any of the avoirdupois thus gained, by hurrying. 

Leisurely he advanced toward the boundary fence. There was the freshearth where he had rooted out of Mr. Con Murphy's yard into this largerand freer range. 

Suddenly, to his piggish amazement, another figure--a swiftly flyingfigure--got between him and his way of escape. The pig stopped, snorted, threw up his head--and instantly lost all his calmness of mind. 

"Oh, that boy!" gasped Ruth. 

Neale O'Neil was in the pig's path, and he bore a stout fence-picket. For the first time in his experience in raiding these particularpremises, his pigship had met with a foe worthy of his attention. Fourgirls, an old lady, and an ancient colored retainer, in giving chaseheretofore, merely lent spice to the pig's buccaneering ventures. 

He dashed forward with a sudden grunt, but the slim boy did not dodge. Instead he brought that picket down with emphasis upon the pig's snout. 

"Wee! wee! wee!" shrieked the pig, and dashed headlong down the yard, blind to anything but pain and immediate escape. 

"Oh! don't hurt him!" begged Ruth. 

But Agnes had caught her sister around the neck and was hanging uponher, weak with laughter. "Did you hear him? Did you hear him?" shegasped. "He's French, and all the time I thought he was Irish. Did youhear how plain he said 'Yes, ' with a pure Parisian accent?"

"Oh, Neale!" cried Ruth again. "Don't hurt him!"

"No; but I'll scare him so he won't want to come in here again in ahurry, " declared the boy. 

"Let the boy alone, Ruth, " gasped Agnes. "I have no sympathy for thepig. "

The latter must have felt that everybody was against him. He could looknowhere in the enemy's camp for sympathy. He dove several times at thefence, but every old avenue of escape had been closed. And that boy withthe picket was between him and the hole by which he had entered. 

Finally he headed for the hen runs. There was a place in the fence ofthe farther yard where Uncle Rufus had been used to putting a trough offeed for the poultry. The empty trough was still there, but when the pigcollided with it, it shot into the middle of the apparently empty yard. The pig followed it, scrouging under the fence, and squealingintermittently. 

"There!" exclaimed Neale O'Neil. "Why not keep him in that yard and makehis owner pay to get him home again?"

"Oh! I couldn't ask poor Mr. Murphy for money, " said Ruth, giving ananxious glance at the little cottage over the fence. She expected everymoment to hear the cobbler coming to the rescue of his pet. 

And the pig did not propose to remain impounded. He dashed to theboundary fence and found an aperture. Through it he caught a glimpse ofhome and safety. 

But the hole was not quite deep enough. Head and shoulders went throughall right; but there his pigship stuck. 

There was a scurrying across the cobbler's yard, but the Kenway girlsand their new friend did not hear this. Instead, they were startled by asudden rattling of hoofs in a big drygoods box that stood inside thepoultry pen. 

"What's that?" demanded Neale O'Neil. 

"It's--it's Billy Bumps!" shrieked Agnes. 

Out of the box dashed the goat. The opening fronted the boundary fence, beneath which the pig was stuck. Perhaps Billy Bumps took the rapidlycurling and uncurling tail of the pig for a challenging banner. Howeverthat might be, he lowered his head and catapulted himself across theyard as true as a bullet for the target. 

Slam! the goat landed just where it seemed to do the most good, for theremainder of the pig shot through the aperture in the board fence on theinstant. One more affrighted squeal the pig uttered, and then:

"Begorra! 'Tis ivry last brith in me body ye've knocked out, " came fromthe other side of the fence. 

"Oh, Agnes!" gasped Ruth, as the sisters clung together, weak fromlaughter. "That pig can't be French after all; for that's as broad anIrish brogue as ever I heard!"

CHAPTER IV

NEALE O'NEIL GETS ESTABLISHED

Perhaps Billy Bumps was as much amazed as anybody when he heard whatseemed to be the pig expressing his dissatisfaction in a broad Irishbrogue on the other side of the fence. 

The old goat's expression was indeed comical. He backed away from thehole through which he had just shot the raider head-first, shook his ownhead, stamped, and seemed to listen intently to the hostile language. 

"Be th' powers! 'Tis a dirthy, mane thrick, so ut is! An' th' poor pigkem t'roo th' hole like it was shot out of a gun. "

"It's Mr. Murphy!" whispered Ruth, almost as much overcome with laughteras Agnes herself. 

Neale O'Neil was frankly amazed; but in a moment he, like the girls, jumped to the right conclusion. The cobbler had run to the rescue of hispet. He had seized it by the ears as it was trying to crowd under thefence, and tugged, too. When old Billy Bumps had released his pigship, the latter had bowled the cobbler over. 

Mr. Con Murphy possessed a vocabulary of most forceful and picturesquewords, well colored with the brogue he had brought on his tongue from"the ould dart. " Mr. Murphy's "Irish was up" and when he got his breath, which the pig had well nigh knocked out of him, the little old cobblergave his unrestrained opinion of the power that had shot the pig underthe fence. 

Ruth could not allow the occurrence to end without an explanation. Sheran to the fence and peered over. 

"Oh, Mr. Murphy!" she cried. "You're not really hurt?"

"For the love av mercy!" ejaculated the cobbler. "Niver tell me that_youse_ was the one that pushed the pig through the fince that har-rdthat he kem near flyin' down me t'roat? Ye niver could have done it, Miss Kenway--don't be tillin' me. Is it wan o' thim big Jarmyn gunsyouse have got in there, that the pa-apers do be tillin' erbout?"

He was a comical looking old fellow at best, and out here at this earlyhour, with only his trousers slipped on over his calico nightshirt, andheelless slippers on his feet, he cut a curious figure indeed. 

Mr. Con Murphy was a red-faced man, with a fringe of sandy whiskers allaround his countenance like a frame, having his lips, chin and cheekssmoothly shaven. He had no family, lived alone in the cottage, andworked very hard at his cobbler's bench. 

"Why, Mr. Murphy!" cried Ruth. "Of course _I_ didn't push your pigthrough the fence. "

"It was Billy Bumps, " giggled Agnes. 

"Who is that, thin?" demanded Mr. Murphy, glaring at Neale O'Neil. "Thatyoung felley standin' there, I dunno?"

"No. I only cracked your pig over the nose with this fence paling, " saidthe boy. "I wonder you don't keep the pig at home. "

"Oh, ye do, do ye?" cried the little Irishman. "Would ye have me lockhim into me spare bedroom?"

"I would if he were mine--before I'd let him be a nuisance to theneighbors, " declared Neale O'Neil. 

"Oh, Neale!" interposed Ruth. "You mustn't speak so. Of course the pigis annoying----"

"He's a nuisance. Anybody can see that, " said the boy, frankly. 

"'Tis a smart lad ye ar-re, " sneered Mr. Murphy. "Show me how ter kapethe baste at home. The fince is not mine, whativer ye say. If it isn'tstrong enough to kape me pig out----"

"I'll fix it for you in half a day--if you'll pay me for it, "interrupted Neale O'Neil. 

"How will ye do ut? and how much will ye tax me?" queried the cautiouscobbler. 

"I'd string a strand of barbed wire all along the bottom of the fence. That will stop the pig from rooting, I'll be bound. "

The old Irishman rubbed his chin reflectively. "'Twill cost a prettypenny, " he said. 

"Then, " said Neale O'Neil, winking at the girls, "let's turn Billy Bumpsloose, and the next time the pig comes in I hope he'll butt his headoff!"

"Hi!" shouted Mr. Murphy. "Who's this Billy Bumps ye air talkin' so fastabout?"

"That's our goat, " explained Agnes, giggling. 

Mr. Murphy's roving eyes caught sight of the billy, just thenreflectively nibbling an old shoe that had been flung into the pen. 

"Is that the baste that shot me pig under the fince?" he yelped. 

Billy Bumps raised his head, shook his venerable beard, and blatted atthe cobbler. 

"He admits the accusation, " chuckled Agnes. 

"Shure, " said Mr. Murphy, wagging his head, "if that thunderin' ouldpi-_rat_ of a goat ever gits a _good_ whack at me pig, he'd dr-rive himthrough a knothole! Kem over and see me by and by, la-a-ad, " he added, to Neale, his eyes twinkling, "and we'll bargain about that barbed wirejob. "

"I'll be over to see you, sir, " promised the white-haired boy. 

For Ruth had nudged his elbow and whispered: "You must stay to breakfastwith us, Neale. "

The boy did so; but he successfully kept up that wall between the girls'curiosity and his own private history. He frankly admitted that he hadgone hungry of late to save the little sum he had hoarded for theopening of the Milton schools. 

"For I'll have to buy some books--the superintendent told me so. And Iwon't have so much time then to earn money for my keep, " he said. "But Iam going to school whether I eat regularly, or not. I never had a chancebefore. "

"To eat?" asked Agnes, slily. 

"Not like this!" declared Neale, laughing, as he looked about theabundant table. 

But without asking him point-blank just what his life had been, and whyhe had never been to school, Ruth did not see how she was to learn morethan the white-haired boy wished to tell them. 

The girls all liked him. Of course, Aunt Sarah, who was very odd, whenshe came to table did not speak to the boy, and she glared at himwhenever he helped himself to one of Mrs. MacCall's light biscuit. Butthe housekeeper appreciated the compliment he gave her cooking. 

"I guess I don't make such bad biscuit after all, " she said. "Sometimesyou girls eat so little at breakfast that I've thought my days for hotbread making were over. "

Neale blushed and stopped eating almost at once. Although frank to admithis poverty, he did not like to make a display of his appetite. 

Ruth had been thinking seriously of the proposition, and after breakfastshe told Neale that he might remain at the old Corner House--andwelcome--until he found just the place he desired. 

"But I must pay you, " said the boy, earnestly. 

"We don't really need to be paid, Neale, " said Ruth, warmly. "There areso many empty rooms here, you know--and there is always enough for onemore at our table. "

"I couldn't stop if I didn't do something to pay you, " Neale said, bluntly. "I'm no beggar. "

"I tell you!" Ruth cried, having a happy thought. "You can help us cleanhouse. We must get it all done before school begins, so as to help Mrs. MacCall. Uncle Rufus can't beat rugs, and lift and carry, like a youngerperson. "

"I'll do anything, " promised Neale O'Neil. "But first I'll fix thatIrishman's fence so his pig can't root into your yard any more. "

He was over at the cobbler's most of the day, but he showed up for thenoon dinner. Ruth had made him promise to come when he was called. 

Mrs. MacCall insisted upon heaping his plate with the hearty food. "Don't tell _me_, " she said. "A boy's always hollow clean down to hisheels--and you're pretty tall for your age. It'll take some time to fillyou up properly. "

"If I just let myself go, I really _can_ eat, " admitted Neale O'Neil. "And this is so much better cooking than I have been used to. "

There it was again! Ruth and Agnes wanted--oh! _so_ much--to ask himwhere he had lived, and with whom, that he had never before had properfood given him. But although Neale was jolly, and free to speak abouteverything else, the moment anything was suggested that might lead tohis explaining his previous existence, he shied just like an unbrokencolt. 

"Just as if he didn't _have_ any existence at all, " complained Agnes, "before he ran through our side gate this morning, yelling to me to'hold on. '"

"Never mind. We will win his confidence in time, " Ruth said, in herold-fashioned way. 

"Even if he had done something----"

"Hush!" commanded Ruth. "Suppose somebody should hear? The children forinstance. "

"Well! of course we don't really know anything about him. "

"And I am sure he has not done anything very bad. He may be ashamed ofhis former life, but I am sure it is not because of his own fault. He isjust very proud and, I think, very ambitious. "

Of the last there could be no doubt. Neale O'Neil was not content toremain idle at all. As soon as he had finished at Mr. Murphy's, hereturned to the old Corner House and beat rugs until it was time forsupper. 

There was little wonder that his appetite seemed to increase rather thandiminish--he worked so hard!

"I don't believe you ever _did_ have enough to eat, " giggled Agnes. 

"I don't know that I ever did, " admitted Neale. 

"Suppose you should wake up in the night?" she suggested. "If you werereal hungry it would be dreadful. I think you'd better take somecrackers and cheese upstairs with, you when you go to bed. "

Neale took this all in good temper, but Mrs. MacCall exclaimed, suddenly:

"There! I knew there was something I forgot from the store to-day. Tess, do you and Dot want to run over to Mr. Stetson's after supper and bringme some crackers?"

"Of course we will, Mrs. MacCall, " replied Tess. 

"And I'll take my Alice-doll. She needs an airing, " declared Dot. "Herhealth isn't all that we might wish since that Lillie Treble buried heralive. "

"Buried her alive?" cried Neale. "Playing savages?"

"No, " said Tess, gravely. "And she buried dried apples with her, too. Itwas an awful thing, and we don't talk about it--much, " she added, in awhisper, with a nod toward Dot's serious face. 

Out of this trip to the grocery arose a misunderstanding that was veryfunny in the end. Ruth had chosen the very room, at the back of thehouse, in which the lady from Ipsilanti and her little daughter hadslept, for the use of Neale O'Neil. After supper she had gone up thereto make the bed afresh, and she was there when Tess and Dorothy returnedhome from the store, filled to the lips, and bursting, with a wonderfulpiece of news. 

"Oh, dear me, Ruthie!" cried Dot, being the leader, although her legswere not the longest. "Did you know we all have to be _'scalloped_before we can go to school here in Milton?"

"Be _what_?" gasped the oldest Kenway girl, smoothing up the coverlet ofthe bed and preparing to plump the pillows. 

"No, " panted Tess, putting her bundle on the stand by the head of thebed. "'Tisn't 'scalloped, Tess. It's vac--vacilation, I believe. Anyway, it's some operation, and we all have to have it. "

"Goodness me!" exclaimed Ruth, laughing. "We've all been vaccinated, kiddies--and it wasn't such a dreadful operation, after all. All we'llhave to do is to show our arms to the doctor and he'll see we werevaccinated recently. "

"Well!" said Dot. "I knew it had something to do with that 'scallop markon my arm, " and she tried to roll up the sleeve of her frock to see thesmall but perfect scar that was the result of her vaccination. 

They all left the room, laughing. Two hours later the house quieteddown, for the family had retired to their several rooms. 

To Neale O'Neil, the waif, the big house was a very wonderful place. Thefine old furniture, the silver plate of which Uncle Rufus took suchloving care, the happy, merry girls, benevolent Mrs. MacCall and her oddsayings, even Aunt Sarah with her grim manner, seemed creatures andthings of another world. For the white-haired boy had lived, since hecould remember, an existence as far removed from this quiet home-life atthe old Corner House, as could be imagined!

He told Agnes laughingly that he would be afraid to leave his roomduring the night, for fear of getting lost in the winding passages, andup and down the unexpected flights of stairs at the back of the house. 

He heard the girls go away laughing when they had showed him to hisroom. There was a gas-jet burning and he turned it up the better to seethe big apartment. 

"Hullo! what's this?" Neale demanded, as he spied a paper bag upon thestand. 

He crossed to the head of the bed, and put his hand on the package. There was no mistaking the contents of the bag at first touch. 

Crackers!

"That's the fat girl!" exclaimed Neale, and for a moment he was really alittle angry with Agnes. 

It was true, he _had_ gorged himself on Mrs. MacCall's good things. Shehad urged him so, and he had really been on "short commons" for severaldays. Agnes had suggested his taking crackers and cheese to bed withhim--and here was a whole bag of crackers!

He sat down a moment and glowered at the package. For one thing, he wastempted to put on his cap and jacket and leave the Corner House at once. 

But that would be childish. And Ruth had been so kind to him. He wassure the oldest Kenway girl would never perpetrate such a joke. 

"Of course, Aggie didn't mean to be unkind, " he thought, at last, hisgood judgment coming to his rescue. "I--I'd like to pay her back. I--Iwill!"

He jumped up and went to the door, carrying the bag of crackers withhim. He opened the door and listened. Somewhere, far away, was the soundof muffled laughter. 

"I bet that's that Aggie girl!" he muttered, "and she's laughing at me. "

CHAPTER V

CRACKERS--AND A TOOTHACHE

The arc light at the corner of Main Street vied with a faint moon inilluminating the passages and corridors of the old Corner House. Deepshadows lay in certain corners and at turns in the halls and staircases;but Neale O'Neil was not afraid of the dark. 

The distant laughter spurred him to find the girls' room. He wanted toget square with Agnes, whom he believed had put the bag of crackersbeside his bed. 

But suddenly a door slammed, and then there was a great silence over thehouse. From the outside Neale could easily have identified the girls'room. He had seen Aggie climb out of one of the windows of the chamberin question that very morning. 

But in a couple of minutes he had to acknowledge that he was completelyturned about in this house. He did not know that he had been put tosleep in another wing from that in which the girls' rooms were situated. Only Uncle Rufus slept in this wing besides himself, and he in anotherstory higher. 

The white-haired boy came finally to the corridor leading to the mainstaircase. This was more brilliantly lighted by the electric lamp on thestreet. He stepped lightly forward and saw a faint light from a transomover one of the front room doors. 

"That's where those girls sleep, I bet!" whispered Neale to himself. 

The transom was open. There was a little rustling sound within. Then thelight went out. 

Neale broke the string and opened the bag of crackers. They were of thethick, hard variety known in New England as "Boston" crackers. He tookout one and weighed it in his hand. It made a very proper missile. 

With a single jerk of his arm he scaled the cracker through the opentransom. There was a slight scuffle within, following the cracker'sfall. 

He paused a moment and then threw a second and a third. Each time therustling was repeated, and Neale kept up the bombardment believing that, although the girls did not speak, the shower of crackers was fallingupon the guilty. 

One after the other he flung the crackers through the transom until theywere all discharged. Not a sound now from the bombarded quarters. Chuckling, Neale stole away, sure that he would have a big laugh onAgnes in the morning. 

But before he got back into his wing of the house, he spied a candlewith a girl in a pink kimono behind it. 

"Whatever do you want out here, Neale O'Neil? A drink?"

It was Ruth. Neale was full of tickle over his joke, and he had torelate it. 

"I've just been paying off that smart sister of yours in her own coin, "he chuckled. 

"Which smart sister?"

"Why, Agnes. "

"But how?"

Neale told her how he had found the bag of crackers on the table besidehis bed. "Nobody but Aggie would be up to such a trick, I know, "chuckled Neale. "So I just pitched 'em all through the transom at her. "

"What transom?" gasped Ruth, in dismay. "Where did you throw them?"

"Why, right through _that_ one, " and Neale pointed. "Isn't that the roomyou and Aggie occupy?"

"My goodness' sakes alive!" cried Ruth, awe-struck. "What _have_ youdone, Neale O'Neil? _That's Aunt Sarah's room. _"

Ruth rushed to the door, tried it, found it unbolted, and ran in. Hercandle but dimly revealed the apartment; but it gave light enough toshow that Aunt Sarah was not in evidence. 

Almost in the middle of the room stood the big "four-poster, " withcanopy and counterpane, the fringe of which reached almost to the ragcarpet that covered the floor. A cracker crunched under Ruth'sslipper-shod foot. Indeed, crackers were everywhere! No part of theroom--save beneath the bed itself--had escaped the bombardment. 

"Mercy on us!" gasped Ruth, and ran to the bed. She lifted a corner ofthe counterpane and peered under. A pair of bare heels were revealed andbeyond them--supposedly--was the remainder of Aunt Sarah!

"Aunt Sarah! Aunt Sarah! do come out, " begged Ruth. 

"The ceilin's fallin', Niece Ruth, " croaked the old lady. "This ricketyold shebang is a-fallin' to pieces at last. I allus told your UnclePeter it would. "

"No, no, Aunt Sarah, it's all right!" cried Ruth. Then she rememberedNeale and knew if she told the story bluntly, Aunt Sarah would neverforgive the boy. 

"Do, _do_ come out, " she begged, meanwhile scrambling about, herself, topick up the crackers. She collected most of them that were whole easilyenough. But some had broken and the pieces had scattered far and wide. 

With some difficulty the old lady crept out from under the far side ofthe bed. She was ready to retire, her nightcap securely tied under herchin, and all. 

When Ruth, much troubled by a desire to laugh, asked her, she explainedthat the first missile had landed upon her head while she was kneelingbeside the bed at her devotions. 

"I got up and another of the things hit me on the ear, " pursued AuntSarah, short and sharp. "Another landed in the small of my back, and Iwent over into that corner. But pieces of the ceiling were droppin' allover and no matter where I got to, they hit me. So I dove under thebed----"

"Oh! you poor, dear Auntie!"

"If the dratted ceilin's all comin' down, this ain't no place for us tostay, " quoth Aunt Sarah. 

"I am sure it is all over, " urged Ruth. "But if you'd like to go toanother room----?"

"And sleep in a bed that ain't been aired in a dog's age?" snapped AuntSarah. "I guess not. "

"Then, will you come and sleep with me? Aggie can go into the children'sroom. "

"No. If you are sure there ain't no more goin' to fall?"

"I am positive, Auntie. "

"Then I'm going to bed, " declared the old lady. "But I allus told Peterthis old place was bound to go to rack and ruin because o' hismiserliness. "

Ruth waited till her aunt got into bed, where she almost at once fellasleep. Then the girl scrambled for the remainder of the broken crackersand carried them all out into the hall in the trash basket. 

Neale O'Neil was sitting on the top step of the front stairs, waitingfor her appearance. 

"Well! I guess I did it that time, " he said. "She looked at me savageenough to bite, at supper. What's she going to do now--have me arrestedand hung?" and he grinned suddenly. 

"Oh, Neale!" gasped Ruth, overcome with laughter. "How could you?"

"I thought you girls were in there. I was giving Aggie her crackersback, " Neale grunted. 

Ruth explained to him how the crackers had come to be left in his room. Agnes had had nothing to do with it. "I guess the joke is on you, afterall, Neale, " she said, obliged to laugh in the end. 

"Or on that terrible old lady. "

"But she doesn't know it is a joke. I don't know what she'll sayto-morrow when she sees that none of the ceiling has fallen. "

Fortunately Aunt Sarah supplied an explanation herself--and nothingcould have shaken her belief in her own opinion. One of her windows wasdropped down half way from the top. She was sure that some "rascallyboy" outside (she glared at Neale O'Neil when she said it at thebreakfast table) had thrown crackers through the window. She had foundsome of the crumbs. 

"And I'll ketch him some day, and then----" She shook her head grimlyand relapsed into her accustomed silence. 

So Neale did not have to confess his fault and try to make peace withAunt Sarah. It would have been impossible for him to do this last, Ruthwas sure. 

But the story of the bag of crackers delighted Agnes. She teased Nealeabout it unmercifully, and he showed himself to be better-natured andmore patient, than Ruth had at first supposed him to be. 

The next few days following the appearance of Neale O'Neil at the oldCorner House were busy ones indeed. School would open the next week andthere was lots to do before that important event. 

Brooms searched out dust, long-handled brushes searched out cobwebs, andthe first and second floors of the old Corner House were subjected to athorough renovation. 

Above that the girls and Mrs. MacCall decided not to go. The third floorrooms were scarcely ever entered, save by Sandyface and her kittens insearch of mice. As for the great garret that ran the full width of thefront of the house, _that_ had been cleaned so recently (at the time ofthe "Ghost Party, " which is told of in the first volume of this series)that there was no necessity of mounting so high. 

The stranger boy who had come to the old Corner House so opportunely, proved himself of inestimable value in the work in hand. Uncle Rufus wassaved many a groan by that lively youth, and Mrs. MacCall and the girlspronounced him a valuable assistant. 

The young folk were resting on the back porch on Thursday afternoon, chattering like magpies, when suddenly Neale O'Neil spied a splotch ofbrilliant color coming along Willow Street. 

"What do you call this?" demanded he. "Is it a locomotive headlight?"

"Oh! what a ribbon!" gasped Agnes. 

"I declare!" said Tess, in her old-fashioned way. "That is AlfrediaBlossom. And what a great bow of ribbon she has tied on her head. It'sbig enough for a sash, Dot. "

"Looks like a house afire, " commented Neale again. 

By this time Alfredia's smiling face was recognizable under the flamingred bow, and Ruth explained:

"She is one of Uncle Rufus' grand-daughters. Her mother, PetuniaBlossom, washes for us, and Alfredia is dragging home the wash in thatlittle wagon. "

The ribbon, Alfredia wore was at least four inches wide and it was tiedin front at the roots of her kinky hair into a bow, the wings of whichstuck out on each side like a pair of elephant ears. 

The little colored girl came in at the side gate, drawing thewash-basket after her. 

"How-do, Miss Ruthie--and Miss Aggie? How-do, Tessie and Dottie? You-allgwine to school on Monday?"

"All of us are going, Alfredia, " proclaimed Tess. "Are you going?"

"Mammy done said I could, " said Alfredia, rolling her eyes. "But I dunnofo' sho'. "

"Why don't you know?" asked Agnes, the curious. 

"Dunno as I got propah clo'es to wear, honey. Got ter look mightyfetchin' ter go ter school--ya-as'm!"

"Is that why you've got that great bow on your head?" giggled Agnes. "Tomake you look 'fetching'?"

"Naw'm. I put dat ol' red sash-bow up dar to 'tract 'tention. "

"To attract attention?" repeated Ruth. "Why do you want to attractattention?"

"I don't _wanter_, Miss Ruthie. "

"Then why do you wear it?"

"So folkses will look at my haid. "

Agnes and Neale were vastly amused, but Ruth pursued her inquiry. Shewished to get to the bottom of the mystery:

"Why do you want folks to look at your head, Alfredia?"

"So dey won't look at my feet. I done got holes in my shoes--an' dey isMammy's shoes, anyway. Do you 'spects I kin git by wid 'em onMonday--for dey's de on'iest shoes I got ter wear?"

The Kenways laughed--they couldn't help it. But Ruth did not let thecolored girl go away without a pair of half-worn footwear of Agnes' thatcame somewhere near fitting Alfredia. 

"It's just so nice to have so many things that we can afford to givesome away, " sighed Agnes. "My! my! but we ought to be four happy girls. "

One of the Corner House girls was far from happy the next day. Dot camedown to breakfast with a most woebegone face, and tenderly caressing herjaw. She had a toothache, and a plate of mush satisfied her completelyat the table. 

"I--I can't che-e-e-ew!" she wailed, when she tried a bit of toast. 

"I am ashamed of you, Dot, " said Tess, earnestly. "That tooth is just alittle wabbly one, and you ought to have it pulled. "

"Ow! don't you touch it!" shrieked Dot. 

"I'm not going to, " said Tess. "I was reaching for some more butter formy toast--not for your tooth. "

"We-ell!" confessed the smallest Kenway; "it just _jumps_ when anybodycomes toward it. "

"Be a brave little girl and go with sister to the dentist, " begged Ruth. 

"No--please--Ruthie! I can't, " wailed Dot. 

"Let sister tie a stout thread around it, and you pull it out yourself, "suggested Ruth, as a last resort. 

Finally Dot agreed to this. That is, she agreed to have the thread tiedon. Neale climbed the back fence into Mr. Murphy's premises and obtaineda waxed-end of the cobbler. This, he said, would not slip, and Ruthmanaged to fasten the thread to the root of the little tooth. 

"One good jerk, and it's all over!" proclaimed Agnes. 

But this seemed horrible to Dot. The tender little gum was sore, and thenerve telegraphed a sense of acute pain to Dot's mind whenever shetouched the tooth. One good jerk, indeed!

"I tell you what to do, " said Neale to the little girl. "You tie theother end of that waxed-end to a doorknob, and sit down and wait. Somebody will come through the door after a while and jerk the toothright out!"

"Oh!" gasped Dot. 

"Go ahead and try it, Dot, " urged Agnes. "I'm afraid you are a littlecoward. "

This accusation from her favorite sister made Dot feel very badly. Shebetook herself to another part of the house, the black thread hangingfrom her lips. 

"What door are you going to sit behind, Dot?" whispered Tess. "I'll comeand do it--_just as easy!_"

"No, you sha'n't!" cried Dot. "You sha'n't know. And I don't want toknow who is going to j-j-jerk it out, " and she ran away, sobbing. 

Being so busy that morning, the others really forgot the little girl. None of them saw her take a hassock, put it behind the sitting-room doorthat was seldom opened, and after tying the string to the knob, seatherself upon the hassock and wait for something to happen. 

She waited. Nobody came near that room. The sun shone warmly in at thewindows, the bees buzzed, and Dot grew drowsy. Finally she fell fastasleep with her tooth tied to the doorknob. 

CHAPTER VI

AGNES LOSES HER TEMPER AND DOT HER TOOTH

It was on this morning--Friday, ever a fateful day according to thesuperstitiously inclined--that the incident of the newspaperadvertisement arose. 

The paper boy had very early thrown the Kenways' copy of the Milton_Morning Post_ upon the front veranda. Aunt Sarah spent part of eachforenoon reading that gossipy sheet. She insisted upon seeing the paperjust as regularly as she insisted upon having her five cents' worth ofpeppermint-drops to take to church in her pocket on Sunday morning. 

But on this particular morning she did not take the paper in beforegoing to her room after breakfast, and Neale strolled out and picked upthe sheet. 

Ruth was behind him, but he did not know of her presence. She had beenabout to secure the morning paper and run upstairs with it, to save AuntSarah the bother of coming down again. As she was about to ask the boyfor it, Ruth noticed that he was staring rigidly at the still foldedpaper. His eyes were fixed upon something that appeared in the veryfirst column of the _Post_. 

Now, the _Morning Post_ devoted the first column of its front page toimportant announcements and small advertisements--like "Lost and Found, "the death and marriage notices, and "personals. " Agnes called it the"Agony Column, " for the "personals" always headed it. 

Ruth was sure Neale was staring at something printed very near the topof the column. He stood there, motionless, long enough to have read anyordinary advertisement half a dozen times. 

Then he laid the paper quietly on one of the porch chairs and tiptoedoff the veranda, disappearing around the corner of the house withoutlooking back once; so Ruth did not see his face. 

"What can be the matter with him?" murmured Ruth, and seized the paperherself. 

She swiftly scrutinized the upper division of the first column of type. There were the usual requests for the return of absent friends, andseveral cryptic messages understood only by the advertiser and theperson to whom the message was addressed. 

The second "Personal" was different. It read as follows:

 STRAYED, OR RUNAWAY FROM HIS GUARDIAN:--Boy, 15, slight figure, very light hair, may call himself Sorber, or Jakeway. His Guardian will pay FIFTY DOLLARS for information of his safety, or for his recovery. Address Twomley & Sorber's Herculean Circus and Menagerie, _en-route_. 

Ruth read this through; but she read it idly. It made no moreappeal to her just then than did half a dozen of the otheradvertisements--"personal, " or otherwise. 

So she carried the paper slowly upstairs, wondering all the time whatNeale O'Neil could have seen in the column of advertising to so affecthim. Perhaps had Agnes been at hand to discuss the matter, together thegirls might have connected the advertisement of the tow-headed boy withNeale O'Neil. 

But Agnes was out on an errand, and when she did return she was so fullherself of something which she wished to tell Ruth that she quite drovethought of the white-haired boy, for the time being, out of the oldergirl's mind. As soon as she saw Ruth she began her tale. 

"What do you think, Ruthie Kenway? I just met Eva Larry on the Parade, and that Trix Severn was with her. You know that Trix Severn?"

"Beatrice Severn? Yes, " said Ruth, placidly. "A very well-dressed girl. Her parents must be well off. "

"Her father is Terrence Severn, and he keeps a summer hotel at PleasantCove. But I don't like her. And I'm not going to like Eva if she makes afriend of that Trix, " cried Agnes, stormily. 

"Now, Agnes! don't be foolish, " admonished Ruth. 

"You wait till you hear what that nasty Trix said to me--about us all!"

"Why, she can't hurt us--much--no matter what she says, " Ruth declared, still calmly. 

"You can talk! I'm just going to tell Eva she needn't ask me to walkwith her again when Trix is with her. I came along behind them acrossthe Parade Ground and Eva called me. I didn't like Trix before, and Itried to get away. 

"'I've got to hurry, Eva, ' I said. 'Mrs. MacCall is waiting for thissoap-powder. '

"'I should think you Corner House girls could afford to hire somebody torun your errands, if you've got all the money they say you have, ' saysTrix Severn--just like that!"

"What did you reply, Aggie!" asked the older Kenway girl. 

"'It doesn't matter how much, or how little, money we have, ' I toldher, " said Agnes, "'there's no lazy-bones in our family, thankgoodness!' For Eva told me that Trix's mother doesn't get up till noonand that their house is all at sixes and sevens. "

"Oh! that sharp tongue of yours, " said Ruth, admonishingly. 

"I hope she took it, " declared Agnes, savagely. "She said to me: 'Oh!people who haven't been used to leisure don't really know how to enjoymoney, I suppose, when they _do_ get it. '

"'You needn't worry, Miss, ' I said. 'We get all the fun there is going, and don't have to be idle, either. And whoever told _you_ we weren'tused to money before we came to Milton?'"

"Fie! Fie, Aggie! That was in the worst possible taste, " cried Ruth. 

"I don't care, " exclaimed Agnes, stormily. "She's a nasty thing! Andwhen I hurried on, I heard her laugh and say to Eva:

"'"Put a beggar on horseback, " you know. Miss Titus, the dressmaker, says those Kenways never had two cents to bless themselves with beforeold crazy Peter Stower died and left them all that money. '"

"Well, dear, I wouldn't make a mountain out of a molehill, " said Ruth, quietly. "If you don't like Beatrice Severn, you need not associate withher--not even if she is going to be in your grade at school. But I wouldnot quarrel with my best friend about her. That's hardly worth while, isit?"

"I don't know whether I consider Eva Larry my best friend, or not, " saidAgnes, reflectively. "Myra Stetson is lots nicer in some ways. "

That was Agnes' way. She was forever having a "crush" on some girl orother, getting suddenly over it, and seeking another affinity withbewildering fickleness. Eva Larry had been proclaimed her dearest friendfor a longer term than most who had preceded her. 

There was too much to do in completing the housecleaning task to spendeither breath, or time, in discussing Beatrice Severn and her impudenttongue. A steady "rap, rap, rapping" from the back lawn told the storyof Neale and the parlor rugs. 

"There!" cried Ruth, suddenly, from the top of the stepladder, where shewas wiping the upper shelves in the dining-room china closet. "There'sone rug in the sitting room I didn't take out last evening. Will you getit, Aggie, and give it to Neale?"

Willing Agnes started at once. She literally ran to the sitting-room andbanged open the door. 

All this time we have left Dot--and her sore tooth--behind this verydoor! She had selected the wrong side of the door upon which to crouch, waiting for Fate--in the person of an unknowing sister--to pull thetooth. 

The door opened inward, and against the slumbering little girl on thehassock. Instead of jerking the tooth out by pulling open the door, Agnes banged the door right against the unconscious Dot--and so hardthat Dot and her hassock were flung some yards out upon the floor. Herforehead was bumped and a great welt raised upon it. 

The smallest Kenway voiced her surprise and anguish in no uncertainterms. Everybody in the house came running to the rescue. Even AuntSarah came to the top of the stairs and wanted to know "if that youngone was killed?"

"No-o-o!" sobbed Dot, answering for herself. "No--no-o-o, Aunt Sarah. _Not yet. _"

But Mrs. MacCall had brought the arnica bottle and the bruise was soontreated. While they were all comforting her, in staggered Neale with anumber of rugs on his shoulder. 

"Hello!" he demanded. "Who's murdered this time?"

"Me, " proclaimed Dot, with confidence. 

"Oh-ho! Are you making all that noise about losing a little old tooth?But you got it pulled, didn't you?"

Dot clapped a tentative finger into her mouth. When she drew it forth, it was with a pained and surprised expression. The place where the toothshould have been was empty. 

"There it is, " chuckled Neale, "hanging on the doorknob. Didn't I tellyou that was the way to get your tooth pulled?"

"My!" gasped Dot. "It wasn't pulled out of me, you see. When Aggie ranin and knocked me over, _I was just putted away from the tooth_!"

They all burst out laughing at that, and Dot laughed with them. Sherecovered more quickly from the loss of her tooth than Agnes did fromthe loss of her temper!

CHAPTER VII

NEALE IN DISGUISE

The Parade Ground was in the center of Milton. Its lower end borderedWillow Street, and the old Corner House was right across from thetermination of the Parade's principal shaded walk. 

Ranged all around the Parade (which had in colonial days been called"the training ground" where the local militia-hands drilled) were theprincipal public buildings of the town, although the chief businessplaces were situated down Main Street, below the Corner House. 

The brick courthouse with its tall, square tower, occupied a prominentsituation on the Parade. The several more important church edifices, too, faced the great, open common. Interspersed were the betterresidences of Milton. Some of these were far more modern than the oldStower homestead, but to the Kenway girls none seemed more homelike inappearance. 

At the upper end of the Parade were grouped the schools of the town. There was a handsome new high school that Ruth was going to enter; theold one was now given over to the manual training departments. Thegrammar and primary school was a large, sprawling building with plentyof entrances and exits, and in this structure the other three Kenwaygirls found their grades. 

The quartette of Corner House girls were not the only young folk anxiousabout entering the Milton schools for the forthcoming year. There wasNeale O'Neil. The Kenways knew by the way he spoke, that his expectedexperiences at school were uppermost in his thoughts all the time. 

Ruth had talked the matter over with Mrs. MacCall, although she had notseen Mr. Howbridge, and they had decided that the boy was a very welcomeaddition to the Corner House household, if he would stay. 

But Neale O'Neil did not want charity--nor would he accept anything thatsavored of it for long. Even while he was so busy helping the girlsclean house, he had kept his eyes and ears open for a permanent lodging. And on Saturday morning he surprised Ruth by announcing that he wouldleave them after supper that night. 

"Why, Neale! where are you going?" asked the oldest Corner House girl. "I am sure there is room enough for you here. "

"I know all about that, " said Neale, grinning quickly at her. "You folksare the best ever. "

"Then, why----?"

"I've made a dicker with Mr. Con Murphy. You see, I won't be far fromyou girls if you want me any time, " he pursued. 

"You are going to live with Mr. Murphy?"

"Yes. He's got a spare room--and it's very neat and clean. There's awoman comes in and 'does' for him, as he calls it. He needs a chap likeme to give him a hand now and then--taking care of the pig and hisgarden, you know. "

"Not in the winter, Neale, " said Ruth, gently. "I hope you are notleaving us for any foolish reason. You are perfectly welcome to stay. You ought to know that. "

"That is fine of you, Ruth, " he said, gratefully. "But you don't _need_me here. I can feel more independent over there at Murphy's. And I shallbe quite all right there, I assure you. "

The house was now all to rights--"spick and span, " Mrs. MacCallsaid--and Saturday was given up to preparing for the coming school term. It was the last day of the long vacation. 

Dot had no loose tooth to worry her and she was busy, with Tess, inpreparing the dolls' winter nursery. All summer the little girls hadplayed in the rustic house in the garden, but now that September hadcome, an out-of-door playroom would soon be too cold. 

Although the great garret made a grand playroom for all hands on stormydays, Ruth thought it too far for Dot and Tess to go to the top of thehouse alone to play with their dolls. For her dolls were of as muchimportance to Dot as her own eating or sleeping. She lived in a littleworld of her own with the Alice-doll and all her other "children"; andshe no more thought of neglecting them for a day than she and Tessneglected Billy Bumps or the cats. 

There was no means of heating the garret, so a room in the wing withtheir bed chambers, and which was heated from the cellar furnace, wasgiven up to "the kiddies'" nursery. 

There were many treasures to be taken indoors, and Dot and Tess toiledout of the garden, and up the porch steps, and through the hall, andclimbed the stairs to the new playroom--oh! so many times. 

Mr. Stetson, the groceryman, came with an order just as Dot was toilingalong with an armful to the porch. 

"Hello! hello!" he exclaimed. "Don't you want some help with all thatload, Miss Dorothy?" She was a special favorite of his, and he alwaysstopped to talk with her. 

"Ruthie says we got to move all by ourselves--Tess and me, " said Dot, with a sigh. "I'm just as much obliged to you, but I guess you can'thelp. "

She had sat down on the porch steps and Sandyface came, purring, to rubagainst her. 

"You can go right away, Sandy!" said Dot, sternly. "I don't likeyou--much. You went and sat right down in the middle of my Alice-doll'sold cradle, and on her best knit coverlet, and went to sleep--and you'remoulting! I'll never get the hairs off of that quilt. "

"Moulting, eh!" chuckled Mr. Stetson. "Don't you mean shedding?"

"We--ell, maybe, " confessed Dot. "But the hens' feathers are coming outand they're moulting--I heard Ruth say so. So why not cats? Anyway, youcan go away, Sandyface, and stop rubbing them off on _me_. "

"What's become of that kitten of yours--Bungle, did you call it?" askedthe groceryman. 

"Why, don't you know?" asked Dot, in evident surprise. 

"I haven't heard a word, " confessed Mr. Stetson. "Did something happento it?"

"Yes, sir. "

"Was it poisoned?"

"Oh, no!"

"Drowned?"

"No, sir. "

"Did somebody steal it?" queried Mr. Stetson. 

"No, indeed!"

"Was it hurt in any way?"

"No, sir. "

"Well, then, " said the groceryman, "I can't guess. What _did_ happen toBungle?"

"Why, " said Dot, "he growed into a cat!"

That amused Mr. Stetson immensely, and he went away, laughing. "It seemsto me, " Dot said, seriously, to Tess, "that it don't take so much tomake grown-up people laugh. Is it funny for a kitten to grow into acat?"

Neale disappeared for some time right after dinner. He had done all hecould to help Uncle Rufus and Mrs. MacCall that forenoon, and hadpromised Ruth to come back for supper. "I wouldn't miss Mrs. MacCall'sbeans and fishcakes for a farm!" he declared, laughing. 

But he did not laugh as much as he had when he first came to the oldCorner House. Ruth, at least, noticed the change in him, and, "harkingback, " she began to realize that the change had begun just after Nealehad been so startled by the advertisment he had read in the _MorningPost_. 

The two older Kenway girls had errands to do at some of the Main Streetstores that afternoon. It was Agnes who came across Neale O'Neil in thebig pharmacy on the corner of Ralph Street. He was busily engaged with aclerk at the rear of the store. 

"Hello, Neale!" cried Agnes. "What you buying?" Sometimes Agnes'curiosity went beyond her good manners. 

"I'll take this kind, " said Neale, hurriedly, touching a bottle atrandom, and then turned his back on the counter to greet Agnes. "Anounce of question-powders to make askits, " he said to her, with a graveand serious air. "_You_ don't need any, do you?"

"Funny!"

"But I don't _look_ as funny as you do, " chuckled Neale O'Neil. "That'sthe most preposterous looking hat I ever saw, Aggie. And thoserabbit-ears on it!"

"Tow-head!" responded Agnes, with rather crude repartee. 

Neale did not usually mind being tweaked about his flaxen hair--atleast, not by the Corner House girls, but Agnes saw his expressionchange suddenly, and he turned back to the clerk and received hispackage without a word. 

"Oh, you needn't get mad, " she said, quickly. 

"I'm not, " responded Neale, briefly, but he paid for his purchase andhurried away without further remark. Agnes chanced to notice that theother bottles the clerk was returning to the shelves were all samples ofdyes and "hair-restorers. "

"Maybe he's buying something for Mr. Murphy. Mr. Murphy is awfully baldon top, " thought Agnes, and that's all she _did_ think about it untilthe next day. 

The girls had invited Neale to go to their church, with them and he hadpromised to be there. But when they filed in just before the sermon theysaw nothing of the white-haired boy standing about the porch with theother boys. 

"There's somebody in our pew, " whispered Tess to Ruth. 

"Aunt Sarah?"

"No. Aunt Sarah is in her own seat across the aisle, " said Agnes. "Why!it's a boy. "

"It's Neale O'Neil, " gasped Ruth. "But _what_ has he done to his hair?"

A glossy brown head showed just above the tall back of the old-fashionedpew. The sun shining through the long windows on the side of the churchshone upon Neale's thick thatch of hair with iridescent glory. Wheneverhe moved his head, the hue of the hair seemed to change--like a piece ofchangeable silk!

"That can't be him, " said Agnes, with awe. "Where's all his lovelyflaxen hair?"

"The foolish boy! He's dyed it, " said Ruth, and then they reached thepew and could say no more. 

Neale had taken the far corner of the pew, so the girls and Mrs. MacCallfiled in without disturbing him. Agnes punched Neale with her elbow andscowled at him. 

"What did you want to do that for?" she hissed. 

"Do what for?" he responded, trying to look unconscious. 

"You know. Fix your hair like that?"

"Because you called me 'tow-head, '" he whispered, grinning. 

When Mrs. MacCall caught her first glimpse of him when they got up tosing, she started, stared, and almost expressed her opinion aloud. 

"What under the canopy's the matter with that boy's head?" she whisperedto Ruth when they were seated again. 

And there was reason for asking! As the service proceeded and Neale'shair grew dryer, the sun shining upon his head revealed a wealth ofiridescence that attracted more attention than the minister's sermon. 

The glossy brown gave way before a greenish tinge that changed to purpleat the roots. The dye would have been a success for an Easter egg, butas an application to the hair, it was not an unqualified delight--atleast, not to the user. 

The more youthful and thoughtless of the congregation--especially thosebehind the unconscious Neale--found amusement enough in the exhibition. The pastor discovered it harder than ever that morning to hold theattention of certain irreverent ones, and being a near-sighted man, hewas at fault as to the reason for the bustle that increased as hissermon proceeded. 

The Corner House girls--especially Ruth and Agnes--began to feel thematter acutely. Neale was quite unconscious of the result of the dyeupon his hair. As the minutes passed and the rainbow effect became moreand more visible, the disturbance became more pronounced. 

Suddenly there sounded the important creaking of Deacon Abel's bootsdown the aisle. Agnes flashed a look over her shoulder. The stern olddeacon was aiming straight for their pew!

CHAPTER VIII

INTRODUCTIONS

"Oh, goodness to gracious! Here comes old Mr. Abel--and he has fire inhis eye, Ruth!" gasped Agnes. 

"What--what's he going to do?" stammered Ruth, clinging to Agnes' handunder the hymn-book which they shared together. 

"Something awful! Poor Neale!"

"His head looks a fright, " declared Ruth. 

"And everybody's laughing, " groaned Agnes. 

"Girls!" admonished Mrs. MacCall, "try to behave. "

The creaking of the deacon's boots drew near. Old Mr. Abel kept acut-price shoe shop and it was a joke among the young folk of Miltonthat all the shoes he sold were talking shoes, for when you walked inthem they said very plainly:

"Cheap! cheap! cheap!"

Soon the minister noted the approach of Deacon Abel. As the old manstopped by the Kenway pew, the minister lost the thread of hisdiscourse, and stopped. A dread silence fell upon the church. 

The deacon leaned forward in front of the little girls and Mrs. MacCall. His face was very red, and he shook an admonitory finger at the startledNeale O'Neil. 

"Young man!" he said, sonorously. "Young man, you take off that wig andput it in your pocket--or leave this place of worship immediately. "

It was an awful moment--especially awful for everybody in the Kenwaypew. The girls' cheeks burned. Mrs. MacCall glared at the boy in utterstupefaction. 

Deacon Abel was a very stern man indeed--much more so than the clergymanhimself. All the young folk of the congregation stood in particular aweof him. 

But poor Neale O'Neil, unconscious of any wrong intent, merely gazed atthe old gentleman in surprise. "Wha--wha--_what_?" he gasped. 

"Get out of here, young man!" exclaimed the deacon. "You have got thewhole crowd by the ears. A most disgraceful exhibition. If I had thewarming of your jacket I certainly would be glad. "

"Oh!" exclaimed Ruth, horrified. 

Agnes was really angry. She was an impulsive girl and she could not failto espouse the cause of anybody whom she considered "put upon. " She roseright up when Neale stumbled to his feet. 

"Never you mind, Neale!" she whispered, shrilly. "He's a mean old thing!I'm coming, too. "

It was a very wrong thing to say, but Agnes never stopped to think how athing was going to sound when she was angry. The boy, his face aflame, got out through the next pew, which chanced to be empty, and Agnesfollowed right on behind him before Ruth could pull her back into herseat. 

Nobody could have stopped her. She felt that Neale O'Neil was beingill-treated, and whatever else you could say about Aggie Kenway, youcould not truthfully say that she was not loyal to her friends. 

"Cheap! cheap! cheap!" squeaked the deacon's boots as he went back upone aisle while the boy and girl hurried up the other. It seemed toNeale as though the church was filled with eyes, staring at him. 

His red face was a fine contrast for his rainbow-hued hair, but Agneswas as white as chalk. 

The minister took up his discourse almost immediately, but it seemed tothe culprits making their way to the door as though the silence had heldthe congregation for an hour! They were glad to get through the baizedoors and let them swing together behind them. 

Neale clapped his cap on his head, hiding a part of the ruin, but DeaconAbel came out and attacked him hotly:

"What do you mean by such disgraceful actions, boy?" he asked, withquivering voice. "I don't know who you are--you are a stranger to me;but I warn you never to come here and play such jokes again----"

"It isn't a joke, Mr. Abel!" cried Agnes. 

"What do you call it, then? Isn't that one of them new-fangled wigs Iread folks in the city wear to dances and other affairs? What's he gotit on for?"

"It isn't a wig, " Agnes said, while Neale clutched wildly at his hair. 

"Don't tell me it's his own hair!" almost shouted the old gentleman. 

"What's the matter with my hair?" demanded the puzzled boy. 

"Doesn't he know? Do you mean to say he doesn't know what his head lookslike?" cried the amazed deacon. "Come! come into this room, boy, andlook at your hair. "

There was the ushers' dressing-room at one end of the vestibule; he ledNeale in by the arm. In the small mirror on the wall the boy got afairly accurate picture of his hirsute adornment. 

Without a word--after his first gasp of amazement--Neale turned andwalked out of the room, and out of the church. It was a hot Sunday andthe walks were bathed in sunshine. Neale involuntarily took the pathacross the Parade in the direction of the old Corner House. 

At this hour--in the middle of sermon time--there was scarcely anybodyin sight. Milton observed Sunday most particularly--especially in thisbetter quarter of the town. 

Neale had gone some way before he realized that Agnes was just besidehim. He looked around at her and now his face was very pale. 

"What did you come for?" he asked her, ungraciously enough. 

"I'm so sorry, Neale, " the girl whispered, drawing nearer to his elbow. 

The boy stared for a moment, and then exclaimed: "Why, Aggie! you're agood little sport, all right. "

Aggie blushed vividly, but she hastened to say: "Why did you do it, Neale?"

"I--I can't tell you, " replied the boy, in some confusion. "Only I gotto change the color of my hair. "

"But, mercy! you needn't have changed it to so many colors all at once!"cried she. 

"Huh! do you think--like that old man--that I did it a-purpose?"

"But you _did_ dye it!"

"I tried to. "

"That was the stuff you were buying yesterday in the drugstore?" shequeried. 

"Yes. And I put it on just before I started for church. He said it wouldmake the hair a beautiful brown. "

"_Who_ said so?"

"That drugstore clerk, " said Neale, despondently. 

"He never sold you hair-dye at all!"

"Goodness knows what it was----"

"It's stained your collar--and it's run down your neck and dyed _that_green. "

"Do you suppose I can ever get it off, Aggie?" groaned the boy. 

"We'll try. Come on home and we'll get a lot of soapsuds in a tub in thewoodshed--so we can splash it if we want to, " said the suddenlypractical Agnes. 

They reached the woodshed without being observed by Uncle Rufus. Agnesbrought the water and the soap and a hand-brush from the kitchen. Nealeremoved his collar and tie, and turned back the neck of his shirt. Agnesaproned her Sunday frock and went to work. 

But, sad to relate, the more she scrubbed, and the more Neale suffered, the worse his hair looked!

"Goodness, Aggie!" he gasped at last. "My whole scalp is as sore as aboil. I don't believe I can stand your scrubbing it any more. "

"I don't mean to hurt you, Neale, " panted Agnes. 

"I know it. But isn't the color coming out?"

"I--I guess it's _set_. Maybe I've done more harm than good. It's a sortof a sickly green all over. I never _did_ see such a head of hair, Neale! And it was so pretty before. "

"_Pretty!_" growled Neale O'Neil. "It was a nuisance. Everybody who eversaw me remembered me as the 'white-haired boy. '"

"Well, " sighed Agnes, "whoever sees that hair of yours _now_ willremember you, and no mistake. "

"And I have to go to school with it to-morrow, " groaned Neale. 

"It will grow out all right--in time, " said the girl, trying to becomforting. 

"It'll take more time than I want to spend with green hair, " returnedNeale. "I see what I'll have to do, Aggie. "

"What's that?"

"Get a Riley cut. I don't know but I'd better be _shaved_. "

"Oh, Neale! you'll look so funny, " giggled Agnes, suddenly becominghysterical. 

"That's all right. You have a right to laugh, " said Neale, as Agnes fellback upon a box to have her laugh out. "But I won't be any funnierlooking with _no_ hair than I would be with green hair--make up yourmind to that. "

Neale slipped over the back fence into Mr. Murphy's premises, before therest of the Kenway family came home, and the girls did not see him againthat day. 

"How the folks stared at us!" Ruth said, shaking her head. "It wouldhave been all right if you hadn't gotten up and gone out with him, Aggie. "

"Oh, yes! let that horrid old Deacon Abel put him out of church just asthough he were a stray dog, and belonged to nobody!" cried Agnes. 

"Well, he doesn't belong to us, does he?" asked Dot, wonderingly. 

"We're the only folks he has, I guess, Dot, " said Tess, as Agnes wentoff with her head in the air. 

"He has Mr. Murphy--and the pig, " said Dot, slowly. "But I like Neale. Only I wish he hadn't painted his hair so funny. "

"I'd like to have boxed his ears--that I would!" said Mrs. MacCall, invexation. "I thought gals was crazy enough nowadays; but to think of a_boy_ dyeing his hair!"

Aunt Sarah shook her head and pursed her lips, as one who would say, "Iknew that fellow would come to some bad end. " But Uncle Rufus, havingheard the story, chuckled unctuously to himself. 

"Tell yo' what, chillen, " he said to the girls, "it 'mind me ob de timew'en my Pechunia was a young, flighty gal. Dese young t'ings, dey ain'tnebber satisfied wid de way de good Lawd make 'em. 

"I nebber did diskiver w'y Pechunia was so brack, as I say afore. But'tain't an affliction. She done t'ink it was. She done talk erboutface-bleach, an' powder, an' somet'ing she call 'rooch' wot whitesassiety wimmens fixes up deir faces wid, an' says she ter me, 'Pap, Iis gwine fin' some ob dese yere fixin's fur my complexion. '

"'Yo' go 'long, ' I says ter her. 'Yo's a _fast_ brack, an' dat's alldere is to hit. Ef all de watah an' soap yo' done use ain't take noparticle of dat soot off'n yo' yit, dere ain't nottin' eber _will_remove it. '

"But yo' kyan't change a gal's natur. Pechunia done break her back oberde washtub ter earn de money to buy some o' dem make-up stuff, an' shegoes down ter de drug sto' ter mak' her purchases. She 'low ter spen'much as six bits fer de trash. 

"An' firs' t'ing she axed for was face powder--aw, my glo-_ree_! Declerk ask her: 'Wot shade does yo' want, Ma'am? An' Pechunia giggles an'replies right back:

"'Flesh color, Mister. '

"An' wot you t'ink dat young scalawag ob a clerk gib her?" chuckledUncle Rufus, rolling his eyes and shaking his head in delight. "W'y, hedone gib her _powdered charcoal_! Dat finish Pechunia. She nebber triedto buy nottin' mo' for her complexion--naw, indeedy!"

The girls of the old Corner House learned that Neale was up early onMonday morning, having remained in hiding the remainder of Sunday. Hesought out a neighbor who had a pair of sheep-shears, and Mr. Murphycropped the boy's hair close to his scalp. The latter remained apea-green color and being practically hairless, Neale looked worse thana Mexican dog!

He was not at all the same looking youth who had dawned on Agnes' visionthe Monday morning previous, and had come to her rescue. She saidherself she never would have known him. 

"Oh, dear!" she said to Ruth. "He looks like a gnome out of a funnypicture-book. "

But Neale O'Neil pulled his cap down to his ears and followed behind theKenway girls to school. He was too proud and too sensitive to walk withthem. 

He knew that he was bound to be teased by the boys at school, when oncethey saw his head. Even the old cobbler had said to him:

"'Tis a foine lookin' noddle ye have now. Ye look like a tinder graneonion sproutin' out of the garden in the spring. Luk out as ye go overth' fince, me la-a-ad, for if that ormadhoun of a goat sees ye, he'llate ye alive!"

This was at the breakfast table, and Neale had flushed redly, being halfangry with the old fellow. 

"That's right, la-a-ad, " went on Mr. Murphy. "Blushin' ain't gone out o'fashion where you kem from, I'm glad ter see. An' begorra! ye're morepathriotic than yer name implies, for I fear that's Scotch instead ofIrish. I see now ye've put the grane above the red!"

So Neale went to school on this first day in no very happy frame ofmind. He looked so much different with his hair cropped, from what hehad at church on Sunday, that few of the young folks who had observedhis disgrace there, recognized him--for which the boy was exceedinglyglad. 

He remained away from the Kenway girls, and in that way escapedrecognition. He had to get acquainted with some of thefellows--especially those of the highest grammar grade. Being a newscholar, he had to meet the principal of the school, as well as MissShipman. 

"Take your cap off, sir, " said Mr. Marks, sternly. Unwillingly enough hedid so. "For goodness' sake! what have you been doing to your head?"demanded the principal. 

"Getting my hair clipped, sir, " said Neale. 

"But the color of your head?"

"That's why I had the hair clipped. "

"What did you do to it?"

"It was an accident, sir, " said Neale. "But I can study just as well. "

"We will hope so, " said the principal, his eyes twinkling. "But green isnot a promising color. "

Ruth had taken Dot to the teacher of the first grade, primary, and Dotwas made welcome by several little girls whom she had met at Sundayschool during the summer. Then Ruth hurried to report to the principalof the Milton High School, with whom she had already had an interview. 

Tess found her grade herself. It was the largest room in the wholebuilding and was presided over by Miss Andrews--a lady of most uncertainage and temper, and without a single twinkle in her grey-green eyes. 

But with Tess were several girls she knew--Mable Creamer; Margaret andHolly Pease; Maria Maroni, whose father kept the vegetable and fruitstand in the cellar of one of the Stower houses on Meadow Street; UncleRufus' granddaughter, Alfredia (with the big red ribbon bow); and alittle Yiddish girl named Sadie Goronofsky, who lived with herstep-mother and a lot of step-brothers and sisters in another of thetenements on Meadow Street which had been owned so many years by UnclePeter Stower. 

Agnes and Neale O 'Neil met in the same grade, but they did not have achance to speak, for the boys sat on one side of the room, and the girlson the other. 

The second Kenway girl had her own troubles. During the weeks she livedat the old Corner House, she had been looking forward to entering schoolin the fall, so she had met all the girls possible who were to be in hergrade. 

Now she found that, school having opened, the girls fell right back intotheir old associations. There were the usual groups, or cliques. Shewould have to earn her place in the school, just as though she did notknow a soul. 

Beatrice, or "Trix" Severn, was not one of those whom Agnes was anxiousto be friendly with; and here Trix was in the very seat beside her, while Eva Larry and Myra Stetson were across the room!

The prospect looked cloudy to Agnes, and she began the first schoolsession with less confidence than any of her sisters. 

CHAPTER IX

POPOCATEPETL IN MISCHIEF

Miss Georgiana Shipman was a plump lady in a tight bodice--short, dark, with a frankly double chin and eyes that almost always smiled. She didnot possess a single beautiful feature; yet that smile ofhers--friendly, appreciative of one's failings as well as one'ssuccesses--that smile cloaked a multitude of short-comings. 

One found one's self loving Miss Georgiana--if one was a girl--almost atonce; and the boldest and most unruly boy dropped his head and wasashamed to make Miss Georgiana trouble. 

Sometimes boys with a long record of misdeeds behind them in othergrades--misdeeds that blackened the pages of other teachers' deportmentbooks--somehow managed to reach the door of Miss Georgiana's roomwithout being dismissed from the school by the principal. Once havingentered the favored portal, their characters seemed to change magically. 

Mr. Marks knew that if he could bring the most abandoned scapegracealong in his studies so that he could spend a year with Miss GeorgianaShipman, in nine cases out of ten these hard-to-manage boys would besaved to the school. Sometimes they graduated at the very top of theirclasses. 

Just as though Miss Georgiana were a fairy god-mother who struck hercrutch upon the platform and cried: "Se sesame! _change!_" the youngpirates often came through Miss Georgiana's hands and entered highschool with the reputation of being very decent fellows after all. 

Nor was Miss Georgiana a "softie"; far from it. Ask the boys themselvesabout it? Oh! they would merely hang their heads, and scrape a foot backand forth on the rug, and grunt: "Aw! Miss Shipman understands afellow. "

Her influence over the girls was even greater. She expected you to learnyour lessons, and if you were lazy she spent infinite pains in urgingyou on. And if you did not work, Miss Georgiana felt aggrieved, and thatmade any nice girl feel dreadfully mean! Besides, you took up more ofthe teacher's time than you had any right to, and the other girlsdeclared it was not fair, and talked pretty harshly about you. 

If Miss Georgiana had to remain after school for any reason, more thanhalf of her girls would be sure to hang around the school entrance untilshe came out, and then they all trailed home with her. 

When you saw a bevy of girls from twelve to fourteen years of age, orthereabout, massed on one of the shady walks of the Parade soon afterschool closed for the day, or chattering along Whipple Street on whichMiss Georgiana Shipman lived, you might be sure that the teacher of thesixth grade, grammar, was in the center of the group. 

Miss Georgiana lived with her mother--a little old lady in Quakerdress--in a small cottage back from the street-line. There were threebig oaks in the front yard, and no grass ever could be coaxed to growunder them, for the girls kept it worn down to the roots. 

There were seats at the roots of the three huge trees in the openseason, and it was an odd afternoon indeed that did not find a number ofgirls here. To be invited to stay to tea at Miss Georgiana's was theheight of every girl's ambition who belonged in Number Six. 

Nor did the girls when graduated, easily forget Miss Georgiana. She hadtheir confidence and some of them came to her with troubles andperplexities that they could have exposed to nobody else. 

Of course, girls who had "understanding" mothers, did not need thisspecial inspiration and help, but it was noticeable that girls who hadno mothers at all, found in the little, plump, rather dowdy "old maidschool teacher" one of those choice souls that God has put on earth tofulfil the duties of parents taken away. 

Miss Georgiana Shipman had been teaching for twenty years, but she hadnever grown old. And her influence was--to use a trite description--likea stone flung into a still pool of water; the ever widening circles setmoving by it lapped the very outer shores of Milton life. 

Of course Agnes Kenway was bound to fall in love with this teacher; andMiss Georgiana soon knew her for just the "stormy petrel" that she was. Agnes gravitated to scrapes as naturally as she breathed, but she gotout of them, too, as a usual thing without suffering any serious harm. 

Trix Severn annoyed her. Trix had it in her power to bother the next tothe oldest Corner House girl, sitting as she did at the nearest desk. The custom was, in verbal recitation, for the pupil to rise in her (orhis) seat and recite. When it came Agnes' time to recite, Trix wouldwhisper something entirely irrelevant to the matter before the class. 

This sibilant monologue was so nicely attuned by Trix that MissGeorgiana (nor many of the girls besides Agnes herself) did not hear it. But it got on Agnes' nerves and one afternoon, before the first week ofschool was over, she turned suddenly on the demure Trix in the middle ofher recitation and exclaimed, hysterically:

"If you don't stop whispering that way, Trix Severn, I'll just go mad!"

"Agnes!" ejaculated Miss Shipman. "What does this mean?"

"I don't care!" cried Agnes, stormily. "She interrupts me----"

"Didn't either!" declared Trix, thereby disproving her own statement inthat particular case, at least. "I didn't speak to her. "

"You did!" insisted Agnes. 

"Agnes! sit down, " said Miss Shipman, and sternly enough, for the wholeroom was disturbed. "What _were_ you doing, Beatrice?"

"Just studying, Miss Shipman, " declared Trix, with perfect innocence. 

"This is not the time for study, but for recitation. You need notrecite, and I will see both of you after school. Go on from where Agnesleft off, Lluella. "

"I'll fix you for this!" hissed Trix to Agnes. Agnes felt too badly toreply and the jealous girl added: "You Corner House girls think you aregoing to run things in this school, I suppose; but you'll see, Miss!You're nothing but upstarts. "

Agnes did not feel like repeating this when Miss Georgiana made herinvestigation of the incident after school. She was no "tell-tale. "

Therefore she repeated only her former accusation that Trix's whisperinghad confused her in her recitation. 

"I never whispered to her!" snapped Trix, tossing her head. "I'm not sofond of her as all that, I hope. "

"Why, I expect all my girls to be fond of each other, " said MissGeorgiana, smiling, "too, too fond to hurt each other's feelings, oreven to annoy each other. "

"She just put it all on, " sniffed Trix. 

"Agnes is nervous, " said the teacher, quietly, "but she must learn tocontrol her nerves and not to fly into a passion and be unladylike. Beatrice, you must not whisper and annoy your neighbors. I hope you twogirls will never take part in such an incident again while you are withme. "

Agnes said, "I'm sorry, Miss Shipman, " but when the teacher's back wasturned, Trix screwed her face into a horrid mask and ran out her tongueat Agnes. Her spitefulness fairly boiled over. 

This was the first day Agnes had been late getting home, so she missedthe first part of an incident of some moment. Popocatepetl got herselfon this day into serious mischief. 

Popocatepetl (she was called "Petal" for short) was one of Sandyface'sfour kittens that had been brought with the old cat from Mr. Stetson'sgrocery to the old Corner House, soon after the Kenway girls came tolive there. Petal was Ruth's particular pet--or, had been, when she wasa kitten. Agnes' choice was the black one with the white nose, calledSpotty; Tess's was Almira, while Dot's--as we already know--was calledBungle, and which, to Dot's disgust, had already "grown up. "

All four of the kittens were good sized cats now, but they were not yetof mature age and now and then the girls were fairly convulsed withlaughter because of the antics of Sandyface's quartette of children. 

There was to be a pair of ducks for Sunday's dinner and Uncle Rufus hadcarefully plucked them into a box in a corner of the kitchen, so thatthe down would not be scattered. Mrs. MacCall was old-fashioned enoughto save all duck and geese down for pillows. 

When the oldest and the two youngest Kenway girls trooped into thekitchen, Popocatepetl was chasing a stray feather about the floor and indiving behind the big range for it, she knocked down the shovel, tongsand poker, which were standing against the bricked-up fireplace. 

The clatter scared Petal immensely, and with tail as big as threeordinary tails and fur standing erect upon her back, she shot across thekitchen and into the big pantry. 

Uncle Rufus had just taken the box of feathers into this room and set itdown on the floor, supposedly out of the way. Mrs. MacCall was measuringmolasses at the table, for a hot gingerbread-cake was going to grace thesupper-table. 

"Scat, you cat, you!" exclaimed Uncle Rufus. "Dar's too many of you catserbout disher house, an' dat's a fac'. Dar's more cats dan dar is micesto ketch--ya-as'm!"

"Oh, Uncle Rufus! you don't mean that, do you?" asked Tess, the literal. "Aren't there as many as five mice left? You know you said yourselfthere were hundreds before Sandyface and her children came. "

"Glo-_ree_! I done s'peck dey got down to purty few numbers, " agreedUncle Rufus. "Hi! wot dat cat do now?"

"Scat!" cried Mrs. MacCall. She had left the table for a moment, andPopocatepetl was upon it. 

"Petal!" shrieked Ruth, and darted for the pantry to seize her pet. 

All three scolding her, and making for her, made Popocatepetl quitehysterical. She arched her back, spit angrily, and then dove from thetable. In her flight she overturned the china cup of molasses which fellto the floor and broke. The sticky liquid was scattered far and wide. 

"That kitten!" Mrs. MacCall shrieked. 

"Wait! wait!" begged Ruth, trying to grab up Petal. 

But the cat dodged her and went right through the molasses on the floor. All her four paws were covered. Wherever she stepped she left animprint. And when the excited Ruth grabbed for her again, she capped herridiculous performance by leaping right into the box of feathers!

Finding herself hopelessly "stuck-up" now, Popocatepetl went completelycrazy!

She leaped from the box, scattering a trail of sticky feathers behindher. She made a single lap around the kitchen trying for an outlet, faster than any kitten had ever traveled before in that room. 

"Stop her!" shrieked Ruth. 

"My clean kitchen!" wailed Mrs. MacCall. 

"Looker dem fedders! looker dem fedders!" gasped Uncle Rufus. "She donegot dem all stuck on her fo' sho'!"

"Oh, oh!" squealed Tess and Dot, in chorus, and clinging together asPetal dashed past them. 

Just at this moment Agnes opened the door and saw what appeared to be ananimated feather-boa dashing about the kitchen, with the bulk of thefamily in pursuit. 

"What for goodness' sake is the matter?" gasped Agnes. 

Popocatepetl saw the open door and she went through it as though she hadbeen shot out of a gun, leaving a trail of feathers in her wake andsplotches of molasses all over the kitchen floor. 

CHAPTER X

THE ICE STORM

The four girls followed Popocatepetl out of the house in a hurry. Theirshrill voices aroused Neale O'Neil where he was spading up a piece ofMr. Con Murphy's garden for a planting of winter spinach. He came overthe fence in a hurry and ran up the long yard. 

"What's the matter? What's the matter?" he shouted. 

The chorus of explanation was so confused that Neale might never havelearned the difficulty to this very moment, had he not looked up intothe bare branches of the Keifer pear tree and seen an object clingingclose to a top limb. 

"For pity's sake!" he gasped. "What is that?"

"It's Petal, " shrilled Dot. "An' she's felled into the merlasses and gotherself all feathers. "

At that her sisters burst out laughing. It was too bad the little catwas so frightened, but it _was_ too comical for anything!

"You don't call that a cat?" demanded Neale, when he could control hisown risibilities. 

"Of course it's a cat, " said Tess, rather warmly. "You know Ruthie'sPopocatepetl, Neale--you know you do. "

"But a thing with feathers, roosting in a tree, must be some kind of afowl--yes?" asked Neale, with gravity. 

"It's a cat-bird, " announced Agnes. 

The younger girls could not see any fun in the situation. Poor Petal, clinging to the high branch of the tree, and faintly mewing, touchedtheir hearts, so Neale went up like a professional acrobat and aftersome difficulty brought the frightened cat down. 

"She'll have to be plucked just like a chicken, " declared Ruth. "Did you_ever_ see such a mess in all your life?"

Neale held the cat so she could not scratch, and Agnes and Ruth"plucked" her and wiped off the molasses as best they could. But it wasseveral days before Popocatepetl was herself again. 

By this time, too, Neale O'Neil's green halo was beginning to wear off. As Mr. Con Murphy said, he looked less like "a blushin' grane onion"than he had immediately after the concoction the drugstore clerk hadsold him took effect. 

"And 'tis hopin' 'twill be a lesson ye'll allus remimber, " pursued theold cobbler. "Niver thrust too much to whativer comes in a bottle!Remimber 'tis not the label ye air to use. The only r'ally honest labelthat kems out of a drug-sthore is thim that has the skull and crossboneson 'em. You kin be sure of them; they're pizen an' no mistake!"

Neale had to listen to a good deal that was harder to bear than any ofMr. Murphy's quaint philosophy. But he restrained himself and did notfight any boy going to school. 

In the first place, Neale O'Neil was going to school for just onepurpose. He wished to learn. To boys and girls who had always had theadvantages of school, this desire seemed strange enough. They could notunderstand Neale. 

And because of his earnestness about study, and because he refused totell anything about himself, they counted Neale odd. The Corner Housegirls were the only real friends the boy had in Milton among the youngfolk. But some older people began to count Neale as a boy of promise. 

Green as his head was dyed, it was a perfectly good head when it came tostudy, as he had assured Mr. Marks. The principal watched the youngsterand formed a better opinion of him than he had at first borne. MissShipman found him a perfectly satisfactory scholar. 

The people he worked for at odd jobs, after and before school, learnedthat he was faithful and smart. Mr. Con Murphy had a good word for theboy to everybody who came into his shop. 

Yet, withal, he could not make close friends. One must give confidencefor confidence if one wishes to make warm friendships. And Neale was assecretive as he could be. 

Neale kept close to the neighborhood of the cobbler's and the old CornerHouse. Agnes told Ruth that she believed Neale never turned a cornerwithout first peeking around it! He was always on the _quivive_--expecting to meet somebody of whom he was afraid. And everymorning he ran over to the Corner House early and looked at the firstcolumn on the front page of the _Morning Post_, as it lay on the bigveranda. 

The four Corner House girls all achieved some distinction in theirschool grades within the first few weeks of the fall term. Ruth madefriends as she always did wherever she went. Other girls did not get asudden "crush" on Ruth Kenway, and then as quickly forget her. Friendship for her was based upon respect and admiration for her senseand fine qualities of character. 

Agnes fought her way as usual to the semi-leadership of her class, TrixSevern to the contrary notwithstanding. She was not quite as goodfriends with Eva Larry as she had been, and had soon cooled a trifletoward Myra Stetson, but there were dozens of other girls to pick andchoose from, and in rotation Agnes became interested in most of those inher grade. 

Tess was the one who came home with the most adventures to tell. Therealways seemed to be "something doing" in Miss Andrews' room. 

"We're all going to save our money toward a Christmas tree for ourroom, " Tess announced, long before cold weather had set in "for keeps. ""Miss Andrews says we can have one, but those that aren't good can havenothing to do with it. I'm afraid, " added Tess, seriously, "that notmany of the boys in our grade will have anything to do with that tree. "

"Is Miss Andrews so dreadfully strict?" asked Dot, round-eyed. 

"Yes, she is--awful!"

"I hope she'll get married, then, and leave school before I get into hergrade. "

"But maybe she won't ever marry, " Tess declared. 

"Don't all ladies marry--some time?" queried Dot, in surprise. 

"Aunt Sarah never did, for one. "

"Oh--well----Don't you suppose there's enough men to go 'round, Tess?"cried Dot, in some alarm. "Wouldn't it be dreadful to grow up like AuntSarah--or your Miss Andrews?"

Tess tossed her head. "I am going to be a suffragette, " she announced. "They don't have to have husbands. Anyway, if they have them, " qualifiedTess, "they don't never bother about them much!"

Tess' mind, however, was full of that proposed Christmas tree. MariaMaroni was going to bring an orange for each pupil--girls and boysalike--to be hung on the tree. Her father had promised her that. 

Alfredia Blossom, Jackson Montgomery Simms Blossom, and Burne-JonesWhistler Blossom had stored bushels of hickory nuts and butternuts inthe cockloft of their mother's cabin, and they had promised to help fillthe stockings that the girls' sewing class was to make. 

Every girl of Tess' acquaintance was going to do something "lovely, " andshe wanted to know what _she_ could do?

"Why, Sadie Goronofsky says maybe she'll _buy_ something to hang on thetree. She is going to have a lot of money saved by Christmas time, "declared Tess. 

"Why, Tess, " said Agnes, "isn't Sadie Goronofsky Mrs. Goronofsky'slittle girl that lives in one of our tenements on Meadow Street?"

"No. She's _Mister_ Goronofsky's little girl. The lady Mr. Goronofskymarried is only Sadie's step-mother. She told me so. "

"But they are very poor people, " Ruth said. "I know, for they canscarcely pay their rent some months. Mr. Howbridge told me so. "

"There are a lot of little children in the family, " said Agnes. 

"And Sadie is the oldest, " Tess said. "You see, she told me how it was. She has to go home nights and wash and dry the dishes, and sweep, andtake care of the baby--and lots of things. She never has any time toplay. 

"But on Friday night--that's just like our Saturday night, you know, "explained Tess, "for they celebrate Saturday as Sunday--they're Jewishpeople. Well, on Friday night, Sadie tells me, her step-mother puts aquarter for her in a big red bank in their kitchen. "

"Puts a quarter each week in Sarah's bank?" said Ruth. "Why, that'sfine!"

"Yes. It's because Sadie washes the dishes and takes care of the baby sonice. And before Christmas the bank is going to be opened. Then Sadie isgoing to get something nice for all her little step-brothers andsisters, and something nice for our tree, too. "

"She'll have a lot of money, " said Agnes. "Must be they're not so pooras they make out, Ruth. "

"Mr. Goronofsky has a little tailor business, and that's all, " Ruthsaid, gravely. "I--I sha'n't tell Mr. Howbridge about Sadie and herbank. "

Thanksgiving came and went--and it was a real Thanksgiving for theCorner House girls. They had never had such a fine time on that nationalfestival before, although they were all alone--just the regularfamily--at the table. 

Neale was to have helped eat the plump hen turkey that Mrs. MacCallroasted, but the very night before Thanksgiving he came to Ruth andbegged off. 

"I got to talking with Mr. Murphy this afternoon, " said Neale, rathershamefacedly, "and he said he hadn't eaten a Thanksgiving dinner sincehis wife and child drowned in the Johnstown flood--and that was yearsand years ago, you know. 

"So I asked him if he'd have a good dinner if I stayed and ate it withhim, and the old fellow said he would, " Neale continued. "And Mrs. JudyRoach--the widow woman who does the extra cleaning for him--will come tocook the dinner. 

"He's gone out to buy the turkey--the biggest gobbler he can get, hetold me--for Mrs. Judy has a raft of young ones, 'all av thim widappetites like a famine in ould Ireland, ' he told me. "

"Oh, Neale!" cried Ruth, with tears in her eyes. 

"He's a fine old man, " declared Neale, "when you get under the skin. Mrs. Judy Roach and her brood will get a square meal for once in theirlives--believe me. "

So Neale stayed at the cobbler's and helped do the honors of thatThanksgiving dinner. He reported to the Corner House girls later how it"went off. "

"'For phat we are about to resave, ' as Father Dooley says--Aloysius, yespalpane! ye have an eye open, squintin' at the tur-r-rkey!--'lit us betrooly thankful, '" observed Mr. Con Murphy, standing up to carve thehuge, brown bird. "Kape your elbows off the table, Aloysius Roach--yeair too old ter hev such bad manners. What par-r-rt of the bir-r-d willye have, Aloysius?"

"A drumstick, " announced Aloysius. 

"A drumstick it is--polish that now, ye spalpane, and polish it well. And Alice, me dear, phat will _youse_ hev?" pursued Mr. Murphy. 

"I'll take a leg, too, Mr. Murphy, " said the oldest Roach girl. 

"Quite right. Iv'ry par-r-rt stringthens a par-r-rt--an' 'tis aspindle-shanks I notice ye air, Alice. And you, Patrick Sarsfield?" tothe next boy. 

"Leg, " said Patrick Sarsfield, succinctly. 

Mr. Murphy dropped the carver and fork, and made a splotch of gravy onthe table. 

"_What?_" he shouted. "Hev ye not hear-r-rd two legs already bespoke, Patrick Sarsfield, an' ye come back at me for another? Phat for kind ofa baste do ye think this is? I'm not carvin' a cinterpede, I'd hev yeknow!"

At last the swarm of hungry Roaches was satisfied, and, according toNeale's report, the dinner went off very well indeed, save that hismother feared she would have to grease and roll Patrick Sarsfield beforethe fire to keep him from bursting, he ate so much!

It was shortly after Thanksgiving that Milton suffered from its famousice-storm. The trees and foliage in general suffered greatly, and the_Post_ said there would probably be little fruit the next year. For theyoung folk of the town it brought great sport. 

The Corner House girls awoke on that Friday morning to see everythingout-of-doors a glare of ice. The shade trees on the Parade were bornedown by the weight of the ice that covered even the tiniest twig onevery tree. Each blade of grass was stiff with an armor of ice. And ascum of it lay upon all the ground. 

The big girls put on their skates and dragged Tess and Dot to school. Almost all the older scholars who attended school that day went onsteel. At recess and after the session the Parade was the scene of racesand impromptu games of hockey. 

The girls of the sixth grade, grammar, held races of their own. TrixSevern was noted for her skating, and heretofore had been champion ofall the girls of her own age, or younger. She was fourteen--nearly twoyears older than Agnes Kenway. 

But Agnes was a vigorous and graceful skater. She skated with NealeO'Neil (who at once proved himself as good as any boy on the ice) and_that_ offended Trix, for she had wished to skate with Neale herself. 

Since the green tinge had faded out of Neale's hair, and it had grown toa respectable length, the girls had all cast approving glances at him. Oddly enough, his hair had grown out a darker shade than before. Itcould not be the effect of the dye, but he certainly was no longer "thewhite-haired boy. "

Well! Trix was real cross because Agnes Kenway skated with Neale. Then, when the sixth grade, grammar, girls got up the impromptu races, Trixfound that Agnes was one of her closest competitors. 

While the boys played hockey at the upper end of the Parade, the girlsraced 'way to Willow Street and back again. Best two out of three trialsit was, and the first trial was won by Agnes--and she did it easily!

"Why! you've beaten Trix, " Eva Larry cried to Agnes. "However did you doit? She always beats us skating. "

"Oh, I broke a strap, " announced Trix, quickly. "Come on! we'll try itagain, and I'll show you. "

"I believe Agnes can beat you every time, Trix, " laughed Eva, lightly. 

Trix flew into a passion at this. And of course, all her venom was aimedat Agnes. 

"I'll show that upstart Corner House girl that she sha'n't ride over_me_, " she declared, angrily, as the contestants gathered for the secondtrial of speed. 

CHAPTER XI

THE SKATING RACE

There were nearly thirty girls who lined up for the second heat. Manywho had tried the first time dropped out, having been distanced sogreatly by the leaders. 

"But that is no way to do!" laughed Agnes, ignoring Trix Severn and hergibes. "It is anybody's race yet. One never knows what may happen in afree-for-all like this. Trix, or Eva, or I, may turn an ankle----"

"Or break another strap, " broke in Eva, laughing openly at Trix. 

"Just you wait!" muttered Trix Severn, in a temper. 

Now, giving way to one's temper never helps in a contest of strength orskill. Agnes herself was trying to prove that axiom; but Trix had nevertried to restrain herself. 

Ere this Miss Shipman had changed Agnes' seat in the class-room, seeingplainly that Trix continued her annoying actions; Agnes had striven tobe patient because she loved Miss Shipman and did not want to maketrouble in her grade. 

Agnes took her place now as far from Trix as she could get. Ruth, andanother of the older girls were at the line, and one of the high schoolboys who owned a stop-watch timed the race. 

"Ready!" he shouted. "Set!"

The race was from a dead start. The girls bent forward, their left feetupon the mark. 

"Go!" shouted the starter. 

The smoothest stretch of ice was right down the center of the Parade. Itwas still so cold that none of the trees had begun to drip. Someemployees of the town Highway Department were trying to knock the iceoff the trees, so as to save the overweighted branches. 

But thus far these workmen had kept away from the impromptu race-course. Down the middle of the park the girls glided toward the clump of sprucetrees, around which they must skate before returning. 

Trix, Eva, Myra, Pearl Harrod and Lucy Poole all shot ahead at thestart. Agnes "got off on the wrong foot, " as the saying is, and foundherself outdistanced at first. 

But she was soon all right. She had a splendid stroke for a girl, andshe possessed pluck and endurance. 

She crept steadily up on the leading contestants, passing Eva, Myra, andLucy before half the length of the Parade Ground was behind them. 

Trix was in the lead and Pearl Harrod was fighting her for first place. 

Agnes kept to one side and just before the trio reached the spruce clumpat Willow Street, she shot in, rounded the clump alone, and started upthe course like the wind upon the return trip!

Trix fairly screamed after her, she was so vexed. Trix, too, hadendurance. She left Pearl behind and skated hard after Agnes Kenway. 

She never would have caught her, however, had it not been for an oddaccident that happened to the Corner House girl. 

As Agnes shot up the course, one of the workmen came with a long polewith a hook on the end of it, and began to shake the bent branches of atree near the skating course. Off rattled a lot of ice, falling to thehard surface below and breaking into thousands of small bits. 

Agnes was in the midst of this rubbish before she knew it. Oneskate-runner got entangled in some pieces and down she went--first toher knees and then full length upon her face!

Some of the other girls shrieked with laughter. But it might have been aserious accident, Agnes was skating so fast. 

Trix saved her breath to taunt her rival later, and, skating around thebits of ice, won the heat before Agnes, much shaken and bruised, hadclimbed to her feet. 

"Oh, Aggie! you're not really hurt, are you?" cried Ruth, hurrying toher sister. 

"My goodness! I don't know, " gasped Agnes. "I saw stars. "

"You have a bump on your forehead, " said one girl. 

"I feel as though I had them all over me, " groaned Agnes. 

"I know that will turn black and blue, " said Lucy, pointing to the lumpon Agnes' forehead. 

"And yellow and green, too, " admitted Agnes. Then she giggled and addedin a whisper to Ruth: "It will be as brilliant as Neale's hair was whenhe dyed it!"

"Well, you showed us what you could do in the first heat, Aggie, " saidPearl, cheerfully. "I believe that you can easily beat Trix. "

"Oh, yes!" snarled the latter girl, who over-heard this. "A poor excusefor not racing is better than none. "

"Well! I declare, Trix, if _you'd_ fallen down, " began Eva; but Agnesinterrupted:

"I haven't said I wasn't going to skate the third heat. "

"Oh! you can't, Aggie, " Ruth said. 

"I'd skate it if I'd broken both legs and all my promises!" declaredAgnes, sharply. "That girl isn't going to put it all over me without afight!"

"Great!" cried Eva. "Show her. "

"I admire your pluck, but not your language, Aggie, " said her oldersister. "And if you _can_ show her----"

Agnes did show them all. She had been badly shaken up by her fall, andher head began to throb painfully, but the color had come back into hercheeks and she took her place in the line of contestants again with abigger determination than ever to win. 

She got off on the right foot this time! Only eighteen girls started andall of them were grimly determined to do their best. 

The boys had left off their hockey games and crowded along the startingline and the upper end of the track, to watch the girls race. People hadcome out from their houses to get a closer view of the excitement, andsome of the teachers--including Mr. Marks and the physicalinstructors--were in the crowd. The boys began to root for theirfavorites, and Agnes heard Neale leading the cheers for her. 

Trix Severn was not much of a favorite with the boys; she wasn't "a goodsport. " But the second Kenway girl had showed herself to be good funright from the start. 

"Got it, Agnes! Hurrah for the Corner House girl!" shrieked oneyoungster who belonged in the sixth grade, grammar. 

"Eva Larry for mine, " declared another. "She's some little skater, anddon't you forget it. "

Some of the boys started down the track after the flying contestants, but Ruth darted after them and begged them to keep out of the way so asnot to confuse the racers when they should come back up the ParadeGround. 

Meanwhile Agnes was taking no chances of being left behind this time. She had gotten off right and was in the lead within the first few yards. Putting forth all her strength at first, she easily distanced most ofthe eighteen. It was, after all, a short race, and she knew that shemust win it "under the whip, " if at all. 

Her fall would soon stiffen and lame her; Agnes knew that very well. Ordinarily she would have given in to the pain she felt and owned thatshe had been hurt. But Trix's taunts were hard to bear--harder than thepain in her knee and in her head. 

Once she glanced over her shoulder and saw Trix right behind--thenearest girl to her in the race. The glance inspired her to put on moresteam. She managed to lead the crowd to the foot of the Parade. 

She turned the clump of spruce trees on the "long roll" and found adozen girls right at her heels as she faced up the Parade again. Trixwas in the midst of them. 

There was some confusion, but Agnes kept out of it. She had her witsvery much about her, too; and she saw that Trix cut the spruce clumpaltogether--turning just before reaching the place, and so saving manyyards. 

In the excitement none of the other racers, save Agnes, noticed thistrick. "Cheat!" thought Agnes. But the very fact that her enemy wasdishonest made Agnes the more determined to beat her. 

Agnes' breath was growing short, however; _how_ her head throbbed! Andher right knee felt as though the skin was all abrased and the capfairly cracked. Of course, she knew this last could not be true, or shewould not be skating at all; but she was in more pain than she had eversuffered in her life before without "giving in" to it. 

She gritted her teeth and held grimly to her course. Trix suddenlypulled up even with her. Agnes knew the girl never would have done sohad she not cheated at the bottom of the course. 

"I'll win without playing baby, or I won't win at all!" the Corner Housegirl promised herself. "If she can win after cheating, let her!"

And it looked at the moment as though Trix had the better chance. Shedrew ahead and was evidently putting forth all her strength to keep thelead. 

Right ahead was the spot where the broken ice covered the course. Agnesbore well away from it; Trix swept out, too, and almost collided withher antagonist. 

"Look where you're going! Don't you dare foul me!" screamed the Severngirl at Agnes. 

That flash of rage cost Trix something. Agnes made no reply--not evenwhen Trix flung back another taunt, believing that the race was alreadywon. 

But it was not. "I will! _I will!_" thought Agnes, and she stooped lowerand shot up the course passing Trix not three yards from the line, andwinning by only an arm's length. 

"I beat her! I beat her!" cried Trix, blinded with tears, and almostfalling to the ice. "Don't you dare say I didn't. "

"It doesn't take much courage to say that, Beatrice, " said Miss Shipman, right at her elbow. "We all saw the race. It was fairly won by Agnes. "

"It wasn't either! She's a cheat!" gasped the enraged girl, withoutrealizing that she was speaking to her teacher instead of to anothergirl. 

This was almost too much for Agnes' self-possession. She was in pain andalmost hysterical herself. She darted forward and demanded:

"Where did _I_ cheat, Miss? You can't say _I_ didn't skate around thespruce clump down there. "

"That's right, Aggie, " said the high school girl who had been on watchwith Ruth. "I saw Trix cut that clump, and if she'd gotten in first, she'd have lost on that foul. "

"That's a story!" exclaimed Trix; but she turned pale. 

"Say no more about it, girls. The race is won by Agnes--and wonhonestly, " Miss Georgiana said. 

But Trix Severn considered she had been very ill-used by Agnes. Sheburied _that_ bone and carefully marked the spot where it lay. 

CHAPTER XII

THE CHRISTMAS PARTY

"What do you think Sammy Pinkney said in joggerfry class to-day?"observed Tess, one evening at the supper table. 

"'Geography, ' dear. Don't try to shorten your words so, " begged Ruth. 

"I--I forgot, " admitted Tess. "'Ge-og-er-fry!' Is that right?"

"Shucks!" exclaimed Agnes. "Let's have the joke. I bet Sammy Pinkney isalways up to something. "

"He likes Tess, Sammy does, " piped up Dot, "for he gave her BillyBumps. "

Tess grew fiery red. "I don't want boys liking me!" she declared. "OnlyNeale. "

"And especially not Sam Pinkney, eh?" said Agnes. "But what happened?You have us all worked up, Tess. "

"Why, Miss Andrews was telling us that the 'stan' at the end of any wordmeant 'the place of'--like Afghanistan, the place the Afghans live----"

"That's what Mrs. Adams is knitting, " interposed Dot, placidly. 

"_What?_" demanded Agnes. "Why, the Afghans are a people--in Asia--rightnear India. "

"She's knitting one; she told me so, " declared Dot, holding her groundobstinately. "She knits it out of worsted. "

"That's right, " laughed Ruth. "It's a crocheted 'throw' for a couch. Youare right, Dot; and so are you, too, Aggie. "

"Are we ever going to get to Sammy Pinkney?" groaned Agnes. 

"Well!" said Tess, indignantly, "I'll tell you, if you'll give me achance. "

"Sail right in, sister, " chuckled Agnes. 

"So Miss Andrews said 'stan' meant 'the place of, '" rushed on Tess, "like Afghanistan, and Hindoostan, 'the place of the Hindoos, ' and shesays:

"'Can any of you give another example of the use of "stan" for the endof a word?' and Sammy says:

"'I can, Miss Andrews. Umbrellastan--the place of the umbrellars, ' andnow Sammy, " concluded Tess, "can't have any stocking on our Christmastree. "

"I guess Sammy was trying to be smart, " said Dot, gravely. 

"He's a smart boy, all right, " Agnes chuckled. "I heard him last Sundayin Sunday school class. He's in Miss Pepperill's class right behindours. Miss Pepperill asked Eddie Collins:

"'What happened to Babylon?'

"'It fell, ' replied Ed. 

"'And what happened to Sodom and Gomorrah?' she asked Robbie Foote, andRobbie said:

"'They were destroyed, Miss Pepperill. '

"Then she came to Sammy. 'What of Tyre, Sammy?' she asked. 

"'Punctured, ' said Sammy, and got the whole class to laughing. "

"Oh, now, Aggie!" queried Ruth, doubtfully, "isn't that a joke?"

"No more than Tess's story is a joke, " giggled the plump girl. 

"But it's no joke for Sammy to lose his part in the Christmasentertainment, " said Tess, seriously. "I'm going to buy him a pair ofwristlets, his wrists are so chapped. "

"You keep on planning to buy presents for all the boys that are shut outof participating in the Christmas tree, " laughed Ruth, "and you'll useup all your spending money, Tess. "

Tess was reflective. "Boys are always getting into trouble, aren'tthey?" she observed. "It's lucky we haven't any in this family. "

"I think so myself, Tess, " agreed Ruth. 

"Well! Nice boys like Neale, " spoke up the loyal Dot, "wouldn't hurt anyfamily. "

"But there aren't many nice ones like Neale, " said Tess, withconviction. "'Most always they seem to be getting into trouble and beingpunished. The teachers don't like them much. "

"Oh, _our_ teacher does, " said Dot, eagerly. "There's Jacob Bloomer. Youknow--his father is the German baker on Meadow Street. Our teacher usedto like him a lot. "

"And what's the matter with Jakey now?" asked Agnes. "Is he in her badbooks?"

"I don't know would you call it 'bad books, '" Dot said. "But he doesn'tbring the teacher a pretzel any more. "

"A pretzel!" exclaimed Ruth. 

"What a ridiculous thing to bring, " said Agnes. 

"She liked them, " Dot said, nodding. "But she doesn't eat them anymore. "

"Why not?" asked Ruth. 

"We--ell, Jacob doesn't bring them. "

"Do tell us why not!"

"Why, " said Dot, earnestly, "you see teacher told Jacob one day that sheliked them, but she wished his father didn't make them so salty. Soafter that Jacob always brought teacher a pretzel without any salt onit. 

"'It's very kind, ' teacher told Jacob, 'of your father to make me apretzel 'specially every day, ' she told him, 'without the salt. ' AndJacob told her his father didn't do any such thing; _he_ licked the saltoff before he gave teacher the pretzel--an' she hasn't never eaten anysince, and Jacob's stopped bringing them, " concluded Dot. 

"Well! what do you think of that?" gasped Agnes. "I should think yourteacher _would_ lose her taste for pretzels. "

"But I don't suppose Jacob understands, " said Ruth, smiling. 

"Oh, Ruth!" cried Agnes, suddenly. "It's at Mr. Bloomer's where CarriePoole's having her big party cake made. Lucy told me so. Lucy isCarrie's cousin, you know. "

"I heard about that party, " said Tess. "It's going to be _grand_. Areyou and Aggie going, Ruth?"

"I'm sure I don't know, " said the oldest Corner House girl. "I haven'tbeen invited yet. "

"Nor me, either, " confessed Agnes. "Don't you suppose we shall be? Iwant to go, awfully, Ruthie. "

"It's the first really _big_ party that's been gotten up this winter, "agreed Ruth. "I don't know Carrie Poole very well, though she's in myclass. "

"They live in a great big farmhouse on the Buckshot Road, " Agnes said. "Lucy told me. A beautiful place. Lots of the girls in my grade aregoing. Trix Severn is very good friends with Carrie Poole, they say. Why, Ruth! can _that_ be the reason why we haven't been invited?"

"_What's_ the reason?"

"'Cause Trix is good friends with Carrie? Trix's mother is some relationto Mrs. Poole. That Trix girl is so mean I _know_ she'll just work usout of any invitation to the party. "

Agnes' eyes flashed and it looked as though a storm was coming. But Ruthremained tranquil. 

"There will be other parties, " the older girl said. "It won't kill us tomiss this one. "

"Speak for yourself!" complained Agnes. "It just kill us with some ofthe girls. The Pooles are very select. If we are left out of Carrie'sparty, we'll be left out of the best of everything that goes on thiswinter. "

Ruth would not admit to Agnes just how badly she felt about the factthat they were seemingly overlooked by Carrie Poole in the distributionof the latter's favors. The party was to be on the Friday night of theweek immediately preceding Christmas. 

There had been no snow of any consequence as yet, but plenty of coldweather. Milton Pond was safely frozen over and the Corner House girlswere there almost every afternoon. Tess was learning to skate and Ruthand Agnes took turns drawing Dot about the pond on her sled. 

Neale O'Neil had several furnaces to attend to now, and he always lookedafter the removal of the ashes to the curbline, and did other dirtywork, immediately after school. But as soon as his work was finished he, too, hurried to the pond. 

Neale was a favorite with the girls--and without putting forth anyspecial effort on his part to be so. He was of a retiring disposition, and aside from his acquaintanceship with some of the boys of his gradeand his friendship with the Corner House girls, Neale O'Neil did notappear to care much for youthful society. 

For one thing, Neale felt his position keenly. He was the oldest scholarin his class. Miss Shipman considered him her brightest pupil, but thefact remained that he really should have been well advanced in highschool. Ruth Kenway was only a year older than Neale. 

His size, his good looks, and his graceful skating, attracted theattention of the older girls who sought the Milton Pond for recreation. 

"There's that Neale O'Neil, " said Carrie Poole, to some friends, on thisparticular afternoon, when she saw the boy putting on his skates. "Don'tany of you girls know him? I want him at my party. "

"He's dreadfully offish, " complained Pearl Harrod. 

"He seems to be friendly enough with the Corner House girls, " saidCarrie. "If they weren't such stuck-up things----"

"Who says they're stuck up?" demanded her cousin Lucy. "I'm sure Aggieisn't. "

"Trix says she is. And I must say Ruth keeps to herself a whole lot. She's in my class but I scarcely ever speak to her, " said Carrie. 

"Now you've said something, " laughed Eva Larry. "Ruth isn't a girl whoputs herself forward, believe me!"

"They're all four jolly girls, " declared Lucy. 

"The kids and all. "

"Oh! I don't want any kids out to the house Friday night, " said Carrie. 

"Do you mean to say you haven't asked Aggie and Ruth?" gasped Pearl. 

"Not yet. "

"Why not?" demanded Lucy, bluntly. 

"Why----I don't know them very well, " said Carrie, hastily. "But I _do_want that Neale O'Neil. So few boys know how to act at a party. And Iwager _he_ dances. "

"I can tell you right now, " said Lucy, "you'll never get him to comeunless the Corner House girls are invited. Why! they're the only girlsof us all who know him right well. "

"I am going to try him, " said Carrie Poole, with sudden decision. 

She skated right over to Neale O'Neil just as he had finished strappingon the cobbler's old skates that had been lent him. Carrie Poole was abig girl--nearly seventeen. She was too wise to attack Neale directlywith the request she had to make. 

"Mr. O'Neil, " she said, with a winning smile, "I saw you doing the'double-roll' the other day, and you did it so easily! I've been tryingto get it for a long while. Will you show me--please--just a little?"

Even the gruffest boy could scarcely escape from such a net--and NealeO'Neil was never impolite. He agreed to show her, and did so. Of coursethey became more or less friendly within a few minutes. 

"It's so kind of you, " said Carrie, when she had managed to get thefigure very nicely. "I'm a thousand times obliged. But it wasn't justthis that I wanted to talk with you about. "

Neale looked amazed. He was not used to the feminine mind. 

"I wanted to pluck up my courage, " laughed Carrie, "to ask you to cometo my party Friday evening. Just a lot of the boys and girls, all ofwhom you know, I am sure. I'd dearly love to have you come, Mr. O'Neil. "

"But--but I don't really know _your_ name, " stammered Neale. 

"Why! I'm Carrie Poole. "

"And I'm sure I don't know where you live, " Neale hastened to say. "It'svery kind of you----"

"Then you'll come?" cried Carrie, confidently. "We live out of town--onthe Buckshot Road. Anybody will tell you. "

"I suppose the Kenway girls will know, " said Neale, doubtfully. "I cango along with them. "

Carrie was a girl who thought quickly. She had really promised TrixSevern that she would not invite Ruth and Agnes Kenway to her party; buthow could she get out of doing just that under these circumstances?

"Of course, " she cried, with apparently perfect frankness. "I sincerelyhope they'll both come. And I can depend upon you to be there, Mr. O'Neil?"

Then she skated straight away and found Ruth and Agnes and invited themfor Friday night in a most graceful way. 

"I wanted to ask you girls personally instead of sending a formalinvite, " she said, warmly. "You being new girls, you know. You'll come?That's so kind of you! I shouldn't feel that the party would be asuccess if you Corner House girls were not there. "

So that is how they got the invitation; but at the time the Kenwaysisters did not suspect how near they came to not being invited at allto the Christmas party. 

CHAPTER XIII

THE BARN DANCE

Such a "hurly-burly" as there was about the old Corner House on Fridayafternoon! Everybody save Aunt Sarah was on the _qui vive_ over theChristmas party--for this was the first important social occasion towhich any of the Kenway sisters had been invited since coming to Miltonto live. 

Miss Titus, that famous gossip and seamstress, had been called in again, and the girls all had plenty of up-to-date winter frocks made. MissTitus' breezy conversation vastly interested Dot, who often sat silentlynursing her Alice-doll in the sewing room, ogling the seamstresswonderingly as her tongue ran on. "'N so, you see, he says to her, " wasa favorite phrase with Miss Titus. 

Mrs. MacCall said the seamstress' tongue was "hung in the middle and ranat both ends. " But Dot's comment was even more to the point. After MissTitus had started home after a particularly gossipy day at the oldCorner House, Dot said:

"Ruthie, don't you think Miss Titus seems to know an awful lot of _un-sonews_?"

However, to come to the important Friday of Carrie Poole's party: Ruthand Agnes were finally dressed. They only _looked_ at their supper. Whowanted to eat just before going to a real, country barn-dance? That iswhat Carrie had promised her school friends. 

Ruth and Agnes had their coats and furs on half an hour before NealeO'Neil came for them. It was not until then that the girls noticed howreally shabby Neale was. His overcoat was thin, and plainly had not beenmade for him. 

Ruth knew she could not give the proud boy anything of value. He wasmaking his own way and had refused every offer of assistance they hadmade him. He bore his poverty jauntily and held his head so high, andlooked at the world so fearlessly, that it would have taken courageindeed to have accused him of being in need. 

He strutted along beside the girls, his unmittened hands deep in hispockets. His very cheerfulness denied the cold, and when Ruth timidlysaid something about it, Neale said gruffly that "mittens were forbabies!"

It was a lowery evening as the trio of young folk set forth. The cloudshad threatened snow all day, and occasionally a flake--spying out theland ahead of its vast army of brothers--drifted through the air andkissed one's cheek. 

Ruth, Agnes, and Neale talked of the possible storm, and the comingChristmas season, and of school, as they hurried along. It was a longwalk out the Buckshot Road until they came in sight of the brilliantlylighted Poole farmhouse. 

It stood at the top of the hill--a famous coasting place--and it lookedalmost like a castle, with all its windows alight, and now and then aflutter of snowflakes falling between the approaching young people andthe lampshine from the doors and windows. 

The girls and boys were coming from all directions--some from across theopen, frozen fields, some from crossroads, and other groups, like theCorner House girls and Neale O'Neil, along the main highway. 

Some few came in hacks, or private carriages; but not many. Miltonpeople were, for the most part, plain folk, and frowned upon anyostentation. 

The Corner House girls and their escort reached the Poole homestead ingood season. The entire lower floor was open to them, save the kitchen, where Mother Poole and the hired help were busy with the huge supperthat was to be served later. 

There was music and singing, and a patheoscope entertainment at first, while everybody was getting acquainted with everybody else. But the boyssoon escaped to the barn. 

The Poole barn was an enormous one. The open floor, with the great mowson either side, and the forest of rafters overhead, could haveaccommodated a full company of the state militia, for its drill andevolutions. 

Under the mows on either hand were the broad stalls for the cattle--thehorses' intelligent heads looking over the mangers at the brilliantlylighted scene, from one side, while the mild-eyed cows and oxen chewedtheir cud on the other side of the barn floor. 

All the farm machinery and wagons had been removed, and the open spacethoroughly swept. Rows of Chinese lanterns, carefully stayed so that thecandles should not set them afire, were strung from end to end of thebarn. Overhead the beams of three great lanterns were reflected downwardupon the dancing-floor. 

When the boys first began to crowd out to the barn, all the decoratingwas not quite finished, and the workmen had left a rope hanging from abeam above. Some of the boys began swinging on that rope. 

"Here's Neale! Here's Neale O'Neil!" cried one of the sixth grade boyswhen Neale appeared. "Come on, Neale. Show us what you did on the ropein the school gym. "

Most boys can easily be tempted to "show off" a little when it comes togymnastic exercises. Neale seized the rope and began to mount it, stiff-legged and "hand over hand. " It was a feat that a professionalacrobat would have found easy, but that very few but professionals couldhave accomplished. 

It was when he reached the beam that the boy surprised his mates. He gothis legs over the beam and rested for a moment; then he commenced thedescent. 

In some way he wrapped his legs around the rope and, head down, suddenlyshot toward the floor at a fear-exciting pace. 

Several of the girls, with Mr. Poole, were just entering the barn. Thegirls shrieked, for they thought Neale was falling. 

But the boy halted in midflight, swung up his body quickly, seized therope again with both hands, and dropped lightly to the floor. 

"Bravo!" cried Mr. Poole, leading the applause. "I declare, that waswell done. I saw a boy at Twomley & Sorber's Circus this last summer dothat very thing--and he did it no better. "

"Oh, but that couldn't have been Neale, Mr. Poole, " Agnes Kenwayhastened to say, "for Neale tells us that he never went to a circus inhis life. "

"He might easily be the junior member of an acrobatic troupe, just thesame, " said Mr. Poole; but Neale had slipped away from them for the timebeing and the farmer got no chance to interview the boy. 

A large-sized talking machine was wheeled into place and the farmer putin the dance records himself. The simple dances--such as they hadlearned at school or in the juvenile dancing classes--brought even themost bashful boys out upon the floor. There were no wallflowers, forCarrie was a good hostess and, after all, had picked her company withsome judgment. 

The girls began dancing with their furs and coats on; but soon theythrew their wraps aside, for the barn floor seemed as warm as anyballroom. 

They had lots of fun in the "grand march, " and with a magic-lantern oneof the boys flashed vari-colored lights upon the crowd from theloft-ladder at the end of the barn. 

Suddenly Mr. Poole put a band record in the machine, and as the marchstruck up, the great doors facing the house were rolled back. They hadbeen dancing for more than two hours. It was after ten o 'clock. 

"Oh!" shouted the girls. 

"Ah!" cried the boys. 

The snow was now drifting steadily down, and between the illumination bythe colored slides in the lantern, and that from the blazing windows ofthe big house, it was indeed a scene to suggest fairyland!

"Into the house--all of you!" shouted Mr. Poole. "Boys, assist yourpartners through the snow. "

"Come on! Come on!" shouted Carrie, in the lead with Neale O'Neil. "Forward, the Light Brigade!"

"Charge for the _eats_, they said!" added Agnes. "Oh--ow--ouch! over myshoe in the snow. "

"And it's we-e-e-et!" wailed another of the girls. "Right down my neck!"

 "'Be-you-ti-ful snow! He may sing whom it suits-- I object to the stuff 'cause it soaks through my boots!'"

quoted Agnes. "Hurry up, you ahead!"

So the march was rather ragged--more in the nature of a raid, indeed. But they had to halt at the side door where the two maids stood armedwith brooms, for Mrs. Poole did not propose that the crowd should bringin several bushels of snow on their feet. 

In the dining and sitting-rooms were long tables, and all loaded withgood things. There were no seats, but plenty of standing room about thetables. Everybody helped everybody else, and there was a lot of fun. 

Some of the girls began to be troubled by the storm. They made frequenttrips to the windows to look out of doors. Soon wraps appeared and thegirls began to say good-night to their young hostess. 

"I don't see how we're ever going to get home!" cried one of the girlswho lived at the greatest distance. 

Farmer Poole had thought of that. He had routed out his men again, andthey harnessed the horses to a big pung and to two smaller sleighs. 

Into these vehicles piled both boys and girls who lived on the otherside of Milton. A few private equipages arrived for some of the youngfolk. The fathers of some had tramped through the snow to the farmhouseto make sure that their daughters were properly escorted home in thefast quickening storm. 

To look out of doors, it seemed a perfect wall of falling snow that thelamplight streamed out upon. Fortunately it was not very cold, nor didthe wind blow. But at the corner of the house there was a drift as deepas Neale O'Neil's knees. 

"But we'll pull through all right, girls, if you want to try it, " heassured Ruth and Agnes. 

They did not like to wait until the sledges got back; that might not befor an hour. And even then the vehicles would be overcrowded. "Come on!"said Agnes. "Let's risk it, Ruth. "

"I don't know but that we'd better----"

"Pshaw! Neale will get us through. He knows a shortcut--so he says. "

"Of course we can trust Neale, " said the older Corner House girl, smiling, and she made no further objection. 

They had already bidden their hostess and her father and mothergood-night. So when the trio set off toward town nobody saw them start. They took the lane beside the barn and went right down the hill, betweenthe stone fences, now more than half hidden by the snow. 

When they got upon the flats, and the lights of the house were hidden, it did seem as though they were in a great, white desert. 

"Who told you this was a short way to town?" demanded Agnes, of Neale. 

"Why, one of the girls told me, " Neale said, innocently enough. "Youknow--that Severn girl. "

"What! Trix Severn?" shrieked Agnes. 

"Yes. "

"I believe she started you off this way, just for the sake of getting usall into trouble, " cried Agnes. "Let's go back!"

But they were now some distance out upon the flats. Far, far ahead therewere faint lights, denoting the situation of Milton; but behind them allthe lights on the hill had been quenched. The Pooles had extinguishedthe lamps at the back of the house, and of course ere this the greatbarn itself was shrouded in darkness. 

The snow came thicker and faster. They were in the midst of a world ofwhite and had there been any shelter at all at hand, Neale would haveinsisted upon taking advantage of it. But there was nothing of the kind. 

CHAPTER XIV

UNCLE RUFUS' STORY OF THE CHRISTMAS GOOSE

"Trix is going to stay all night with Carrie. If we go back she willonly laugh at us, " Ruth Kenway said, decidedly. 

"We-ell, " sighed Agnes. "I don't want to give that mean thing a chanceto laugh. We can't really get lost out here, can we, Neale?"

"I don't see how we can, " said Neale, slowly. "I'm game to go ahead ifyou girls are. "

"It looks to me just as bad to go back, " Ruth observed. 

"Come on!" cried Agnes, and started forward again through the snow. 

And, really, they might just as well keep on as to go back. They must behalf way to the edge of Milton by this time, all three were sure. 

The "swish, swish, swish" of the slanting snow was all they heard savetheir own voices. The falling particles deadened all sound, and theymight have been alone in a wilderness as far as the presence of otherhuman beings was made known to them. 

"Say!" grumbled Neale, "she said there was a brook here somewhere--atthe bottom of a hollow. "

"Well, we've been going down hill for some time, " Ruth remarked. "Itmust be near by now. "

"Is--isn't there a--a bridge over it?" quavered Agnes. 

"A culvert that we can walk over, " said Neale. "Let me go ahead. Don'tyou girls come too close behind me. "

"But, goodness, Neale!" cried Agnes. "We mustn't lose sight of you. "

"I'm not going to run away from you. "

"But you're the last boy on earth--as far as we can see, " chuckledAgnes. "You have suddenly become very precious. "

Neale grinned. "Get you once to the old Corner House and neither of youwould care if you didn't ever see a boy again, " he said. 

He had not gone on five yards when the girls, a few paces behind, heardhim suddenly shout. Then followed a great splashing and flounderingabout. 

"Oh! oh! Neale!" shrieked Agnes. "Have you gone under?"

"No! But I've gone through, " growled the boy. "I've busted through athin piece of ice. Here's the brook all right; you girls stay where youare. I can see the culvert. "

He came back to them, sopping wet to his knees. In a few moments thelower part of his limbs and his feet were encased in ice. 

"You'll get your death of cold, Neale, " cried Ruth, worriedly. 

"No, I won't, Ruth. Not if I keep moving. And that's what we'd allbetter do. Come on, " the boy said. "I know the way after we cross thisbrook. There is an unfinished street leads right into town. Comes outthere by your store building--where those Italian kids live. "

"Oh! If Mrs. Kranz should be up, " gasped Agnes, "she'd take us in andlet you dry your feet, Neale. "

"We'll get her up, " declared Ruth. "She's as good-hearted as she can be, and she won't mind. "

"But it's midnight, " chattered Neale, beginning to feel the chill. 

They hurried over the culvert and along the rough street. Far aheadthere was an arc light burning on the corner of Meadow Street. But not asoul was astir in the neighborhood as the trio came nearer to the Germanwoman's grocery store, and the corner where Joe Maroni, the father ofMaria, had his vegetable and fruit stand. 

The Italians were all abed in their miserable quarters below the streetlevel; but there was a lamp alight behind the shade of Mrs. Kranz'ssitting room. Agnes struggled ahead through the drifts and the fallingsnow, and tapped at the window. 

There were startled voices at once behind the blind. The window had anumber of iron bars before it and was supposed to be burglar-proof. Agnes tapped again, and then the shade moved slightly. 

"Go avay! Dere iss noddings for you here yedt!" exclaimed Mrs. Kranz, threateningly. "Go avay, or I vill de berlice call. "

They saw her silhouette on the blind. But there was another shadow, too, and when this passed directly between the lamp and the window, the girlssaw that it was Maria Maroni. Maria often helped Mrs. Kranz about thehouse, and sometimes remained with her all night. 

"Oh, Maria! Maria Maroni!" shrieked Agnes, knocking on the pane again. "Let us in--_do_!"

The Italian girl flew to the window and ran up the shade, despite theexpostulations of Mrs. Kranz, who believed that the party outside weretroublesome young folk of the neighborhood. 

But when she knew who they were--and Maria identified themimmediately--the good lady lumbered to the side door of the storeherself, and opened it wide to welcome Ruth and Agnes, with their boyfriend. 

"Coom in! Coom in by mine fire, " she cried. "Ach! der poor kinder oudtin dis vedder yedt. Idt iss your deaths mit cold you vould catch--no?"

Ruth explained to the big-hearted German widow how they came to bestruggling in the storm at such an hour. 

"Undt dot boy iss vet? Ach! Ledt him his feet dake off qvick! Maria!make de chocolate hot. Undt de poy--ach! I haf somedings py mine closetin, for _him_. "

She bustled away to reappear in a moment with a tiny glass of somethingthat almost strangled Neale when he drank it, but, as he had to admit, "it warmed 'way down to the ends of his toes!"

"Oh, this is _fine_!" Agnes declared, ten minutes later, when she wassipping her hot chocolate. "I _love_ the snow--and this was almost likegetting lost in a blizzard. "

Mrs. Kranz shook her head. "Say nodt so--say nodt so, " she rumbled. "Disiss pad yedt for de poor folk. Yah! idt vill make de coal go oop inbrice. "

"Yes, " said Maria, softly. "My papa says he will have to charge twelvecents a pail for coal to-morrow, instead of ten. He has to pay more. "

"I never thought of _that_ side of it, " confessed Agnes, slowly. "Isuppose a snow storm like this _will_ make it hard for poor people. "

"Undt dere iss blenty poor folk all about us, " said Mrs. Kranz, shakingher head. "Lucky you are, dot you know noddings about idt. "

"Why shouldn't we know something about it?" demanded Ruth, quickly. "Doyou mean there will be much suffering among _our_ tenants because ofthis storm, Mrs. Kranz?"

"Gott sie dank! nodt for _me_, " said the large lady, shaking her head. "Undt not for Maria's fadder. Joe Maroni iss doin' vell. But many arenodt so--no. Undt der kinder----"

"Let's give them all a Christmas, " exclaimed Ruth, having a suddenbright, as well as kind, thought. "I'll ask Mr. Howbridge. You shalltell us of those most in need, Mrs. Kranz--you and Maria. "

"Vell dem poor Goronofskys iss de vorst, " declared the grocery-storewoman, shaking her head. 

Ruth and Agnes remembered the reported riches in Sadie Goronofsky'sbank, but although they looked at each other, they said nothing aboutit. 

"Sadie has an awful hard time, " said Maria. 

"De sthep-mudder does nodt treat her very kindly----Oh, I know! She hasso many kinder of her own. Sadie vork all de time ven she iss de schooloudt. "

They discussed the other needy neighbors for half an hour longer. ThenNeale put on his dried shoes and stockings, tied his trouser-legs aroundhis ankles, and announced himself ready to go. The girls were wellprotected to their knees by leggings, so they refused to remain for thenight at Mrs. Kranz's home. 

They set out bravely to finish their journey to the old Corner House. Some of the drifts were waist deep and the wind had begun to blow. "My!but I'm glad we're not over on those flats now, " said Agnes. 

It was almost one o'clock when they struggled through the last drift andreached the back door of the old Corner House. Uncle Rufus, his feet onthe stove-hearth, was sleeping in his old armchair, waiting up for them. 

"Oh, Uncle Rufus! you ought to be abed, " cried Ruth. 

"You've lost your beauty sleep, Uncle Rufus, " added Agnes. 

"Sho', chillen, dis ain't nottin' fo' ol' Unc' Rufus. He sit up many anight afore dis. An' somebody has ter watch de Christmas goose. "

"Oh! The Christmas goose?" cried Agnes. "Has it come?"

"You wanter see him, chillen?" asked the old colored man, shuffling tothe door. "Looker yere. "

They followed him to the woodshed door. There, roosting on one leg andblinking at them in the lamplight, was a huge gray goose. It hissedsoftly at them, objecting to their presence, and they went back into thewarm kitchen. 

"Why does it stand that way--on one leg--Uncle Rufus?" asked Agnes. 

"Perhaps it's resting the other foot, " Ruth said, laughing. 

"Maybe it has only one leg, " Neale observed. 

At that Uncle Rufus began chuckling enormously to himself. His eyesrolled, and his cheeks "blew out, " and he showed himself to be very"tickled. "

The door latch clicked and here appeared Tess and Dot in their warmrobes and slippers. They had managed to wake up when the big girls andNeale came in, and had now stolen down to hear about the party. 

Mrs. MacCall had left a nice little lunch, and a pot of cocoa to warmthem up. The girls gathered their chairs in a half circle about thefront of the kitchen range, with Neale, and while Uncle Rufus got therefreshments ready, Ruth and Agnes told their sisters something aboutthe barn dance. 

But Neale had his eye on the old colored man. "What's the matter, Uncle?" he asked. "What's amusing you so much?"

"I done been t'inkin' ob 'way back dar befo' de wah--yas-sir. I donebeen t'inkin' ob das Christmas goose--he! he! he! das de funniestt'ing----"

"Oh, tell us about it, Uncle Rufus!" cried Ruth. 

"Do tell us, " added Agnes, "for we're not a bit sleepy yet. "

"Make room for Uncle Rufus' armchair, " commanded Ruth. "Come, UncleRufus: we're ready. "

Nothing loath the old fellow settled into his creaking chair and lookedinto the glowing coals behind the grated fire-box door. 

"Disher happen' befo' de wah, " he said, slowly. "I warn't mo' dan apickerninny--jes' knee-high to a mus'rat, as yo' might say. But I kinmember ol' Mars' Colby's plantation de bery yeah befo' de wah. 

"Well, chillen, as I was sayin', disher Christmas I kin 'member lak' itwas yestidy. My ol' mammy was de sho' 'nuff cook at de big house, an'Mars' Colby t'ought a heap ob her. But she done tuk down wid de mis'ryin her back jes' two days fore Christmas--an' de big house full obcomp'ny!

"Sech a gwine 'bout yuh nebber _did_ see, w'en mammy say she couldn'tcook de w'ite folkses' dinner. Dere was a no-'count yaller gal, SallyAlley dey call her, wot he'ped erbout de breakfas' an' sech; but shewarn't a sho' 'nuff cook--naw'm!

"She 'lowed she was. She was de beatenes' gal for t'inkin' she knowedeberyt'ing. But, glo-_ree_! dar wasn't nobody on dat plantation wotcould cook er goose tuh suit Mars' Colby lak' my ol' mammy. 

"And de goose dey'd picked out fo' dat Christmas dinner sho' was a noblebird--ya-as'm! Dere was an army ob geese aroun' de pond, but de onedey'd shet up fo' two weeks, an' fed soft fodder to wid er spoon, was denoblest ob de ban', " said Uncle Rufus, unctuously. 

"Well, dar warn't time tuh send on to Richmon' fo' a sho' 'nuff cook, an' de dinnah pahty was gaddered togedder. So Mars' Colby had ter letdat uppity yaller gal go ahead an' do her worstest. 

"She sho' done it, " said Uncle Rufus, shaking his head. "Dar nebber wassech anudder dinner sarbed on de Colby table befo' dat time, nor, since. 

"My mammy, a-layin' on her back in de quahtahs, an' groanin', sent me upto de big house kitchen tuh watch. I was big 'nuff to he'p mammy, and itwas in dat kitchen I begin ter l'arn ter be a house sarbent. 

"Well, chillen, I kep' my two eyes open, an' I sabed de sauce fromburnin', an' de roun' 'taters from bilin' over, an' de onions fromsco'chin' an' de sweet-er-taters f'om bein' charcoal on one side an'baked raw on de odder. Glo-_ree_! dat was one 'citin' day in datkitchen. 

"But I couldn't sabe de goose from bein' sp'ilt. Dat was beyon' mypowah. An' it happen disher way:

"De yaller gal git de goose all stuffed an' fixed propah, fo' she doneuse my mammy's resate fo' stuffin'. But de no-'count critter set itright down in de roastin' pan on de flo' by de po'ch door. Eroun' comesnuffin' a lean houn' dawg, one ob de re'l ol' 'nebber-git enuff' breed. He's empty as er holler stump--er, he! he! he!" chuckled Uncle Rufus. "Glo-_ree_! dar allus was a slather of sech houn's aroun' datplantation, fo' Mars' Colby was a fox huntah. 

"Dat dawg git his eye on dat goose for jes' a secon'--an' de nex' secon'he grab hit by de laig!

"Lawsy me! My soul an' body!" chortled Uncle Rufus, rocking himself toand fro in his chair in an ecstasy of enjoyment. "How dem niggers didsqueal! Dar was more'n 'nuff boys an' gals 'roun' undah foot at dattime, but none ob dem git near de fracas but Unc' Rufus--naw'm!"

"My goodness! the dog didn't get away with the goose, did he, UncleRufus?" asked Ruth. 

"I's a-comin' tuh dat--I's a-comin' tuh dat, " repeated the old man. "Iseen de goose gwine out de do', an' I grab hit--I sho' did! I grab it byde two wingses, an' I hang on liker chigger. De odder pickaninnies jes'a jumpin' eroun' an er-hollerin'. But Unc' Rufus knowed better'n _dat_. 

"Dat houn' dawg, he pull, an' I pull, an' it sho' a wondah we didn' pulldat bird all apaht betwixt us. But erbout de secon' wrench dat hongrybeast gib, he pull de laig clean off'n dat ol' goose!

"Glo-_ree_!" chuckled Uncle Rufus, rolling his eyes and weaving back andforth on his chair, in full enjoyment of his own story. "Glo-_ree_! Datis a 'casion I ain't nebber lak'ly tuh fo'git. Dar I was on my back onde kitchen flo', wid de goose on top ob me, w'ile de houn'-dawg beat iterway from dar er mile-er-minit--ya-as'm!

"Dat yaller gal jerked dat goose out'n my arms an' put hit back in depan, an clapped de pan inter de oven. 'Wedder hit's got one laig, ortwo, ' says she, 'dat's de onliest one de w'ite folkses has got fo' dey'sdinner. "

"An dat was true 'nuff--true 'nuff, " said Uncle Rufus. "But I begin tuhwondah wot Mars' Colby say 'bout dat los' laig? He was right quick widhes temper, an' w'en hes mad was up----Glo-_ree_! he made de quahtahs_hot_! I wondah wot he do to dat yaller gal w'en dat raggedty goose comeon de table. 

"It done got cooked to a tu'n--ya-as! I nebber see a browner, nor aplumper goose. An' w'en dat Sally Alley done lay him on hes side, wid delos' laig _down_, hit was jes' a pitcher--jes' a pitcher!" declaredUncle Rufus, reminiscent yet of the long past feast-day. 

"Wal, dar warn't ne'der ob de waitresses willin' tuh tak' dat goose inan' put it down befo' Mars' Colby--naw'm! So dat yaller gal had to puton a clean han'kercher an' ap'on, an' do it her own se'f. I was jes'leetle 'nuff so I crope th'u de do' an' hides behin' de co'nah ob desidebo'd. 

"I was moughty cur'ous, " confessed Uncle Rufus. "I wanted tuh know jes'wot Mars' Colby say w'en he fin' dat goose ain' got but one laig onhim. "

"And what did he say, Uncle Rufus?" asked Agnes, breathless withinterest like the other listeners. 

"Das is wot I is a-comin' to. You be patient, chile, " chuckled UncleRufus. 

"Dar was de long table, all set wid shinin' silber, an' glistenin' cutglass, an' de be-you-ti-ful ol' crockery dat Madam Colby--das Mars'Colby's gre't-gran-mammy--brought f'om Englan'. Dar was ten platesbeside de famb'ly. 

"De waitresses am busy, a-flyin' eroun' wid de side dishes, an' Mis'Colby, she serbs at her side ob de table, w'en Mars' Colby, he get uptuh carve. 

"'Wot paht ob de goose is yo' mos' fon' of, Miss Lee?' he say to deyoung lady on hes right han', monst'ous perlite lak. 

"'I'd lak' a slice ob de laig, Cunnel, ' she say; 't'ank yo'. '"

Uncle Rufus was surely enjoying himself. He was imitating "the quality"with great gusto. His eyes rolled, his sides shook, and his brown facewas all one huge smile. 

"De bery nex' lady he ax dat same question to, mak' de same reply, " wenton Uncle Rufus, "an' Mars' Colby done cut all de laig meat erway on datside. Den it come ergin. Somebody else want er piece ob de secon' j'int. 

"Mars' Colby stick his fo'k in de goose an' heave him over in deplattah. Glo-_ree_! dar de under side ob dat goose were all nice an'brown; but dar warn't no sign ob a laig erpon hit!

"'Wha' dis? Wha' dis?' Mars' Colby cry. 'Who been a-tamperin' wid disgoose? Sen' dat no-'count Sally Alley in yeah dis minute!' he say to oneob de waitresses. 

"Glo-_ree_! how scar't we all was. My knees shak' tergedder, an' I bitmy tongue tryin' ter hol' my jaws shet. W'en Mars' Colby done letloose----well!" and Uncle Rufus sighed. 

"Den dey come back wid Sally Alley. If eber dar was a scar't nigger ondat plantation, it was dat same yaller gal. An' she warn't saddle colorno mo'; she was grayer in de face dan an ol' rat. 

"Dey stan' her up befo' Mars' Colby, an' hes eyes look lak' dey wasred--ya-as'm! 'Sally Alley, ' he roar at her, 'whar de odder laig ob disgoose?'

"Sally Alley shake like a willer by de ribber, an' she blurt out: 'Mars'Colby! sho' 'nuff dar warn't no odder laig _on_ dat goose. '

"'Wha' dat?' say he, moughty savage. 'On'y _one_ laig on dis goose?'

"'Ya-as, suh--sho' 'nuff. Das de onliest laig it had, ' says she. 

"'What do yo' mean?' Mars' Colby cry. 'Yo' tell me my goose ain' hab butone laig?'

"'Ya-as, suh. Das hit. On'y one laig, ' says dat scar't yaller gal, an'ter clinch it she added, '_All_ yo' geese dat a-ways, Mars' Colby. Deyall ain' got but one laig. '"

"Oh!" squealed Dot. 

"Was it sure enough _so_, Uncle Rufus?" asked Tess, in awe. 

"Yo' wait! yo' wait, chillen! I'se gittin' tuh dat, " declared the oldman, chuckling. "Co'se dat Sally Alley say dat, hysterical lak'. She wasdat scar't. Mars' Colby scowl at her mo' awful. 

"'I mak' yo' prove dat to me atter dinner, ' he say, savage as he kin be. 'Yo'll tak' us all out dar an' show us my one-laiged geese. An' if it_ain't_ so, I'll send yo' to de fiel' oberseer. '

"De fiel' oberseer do de whippin' on dat plantation, " whispered UncleRufus, "an' Sally Alley knowed wot dat meant. "

"Oh, dear me!" cried tender-hearted Tess. "They didn't re'lly _beat_her?"

"Don't try to get ahead of the story, Tess, " said Agnes, but rathershakingly. "We'll all hear it together. "

"Das it, " said Uncle Rufus. "Jes' gib Unc' Rufus time an' he'll tell itall. Dat yaller gal sho' was in a fix. She don' know w'ich way to tu'n. 

"Das dinner was a-gettin' nearer an' nearer to de en'. Mars' Colby dolak' he say den. He come out an' mak' Sally Alley show de one-laigedgeese. 

"'I has a po'erful min', ' dat Sally gal say, 'ter go down dar an' choper laig off'n ebery goose in de yard. '

"But she didn't hab no min' to do dat, " pursued Uncle Rufus. "Naw'm. Shedidn't hab no min' for nottin', she was dat flabbergastuated. 

"She t'ink she run erway; but she wouldn't git far befo' Mars' Colby beatter her wid de houn's. Dar ain't no place to run to, an' she ain't gotno mammy, so she run tuh mine, " said Uncle Rufus, shaking his head. "An'my mammy was a wise ol' woman. She done been bawn in de Colby famb'ly, an' she know Mars' Colby better dan he know he'self. Fiery as he was, she know dat if yo' kin mak' him laff, he'd fo'give a nigger 'mostanyt'ing. 

"So my ol' mammy tol' Sally Alley wot tuh say an' do. Sally wipe hereyes an' mak' herse'f neat erg'in, an' wa'k up ter de big house brave asa lion--in de seemin'--jes' as de gran' folkses comes out upon de lawn. 

"'Here, yo', ' 'sclaim Mars' Colby, we'n he see her. 'Yo' come an' showme all dem one-laiged geese. '

"'Ya-as, Mars', ' says Sally Alley, an' she haid right off fo' de goosepon'. Dar was de whole flock roostin' erlong de aidge ob de pon'--an'all wid one foot drawed up in deir fedders lak' dat goose roostin' outdar in dat woodshed dis bressed minute!

"'Wot I tell yo'? Wot I tell yo', Mars' Colby?' cry Sally Alley. 'Ain'tall dem gooses got one laig lak' I tol' yo'?'

"But Mars' stride right ober to de fence an' clap hes han's. Ebery oneo' dem geese puts down hes foot an' tu'ns to look at him. 

"'Das ain' no fair! das ain' no fair, Mars' Colby!' squeals dat yallergal, all 'cited up. '_Yo' didn't clap yo' han's at dat goose on detable!_'--er, he! he! he!" And so Uncle Rufus finished the story of theChristmas goose. 

Ruth started the younger ones to bed immediately; but Tess called downfrom the stair:

"Uncle Rufus! He _didn't_ make her go see the field overseer, did he?"

"Sho'ly not, chile. Dat wasn' Cunnel Mark Colby's way. My ol' mammyknowed wot would han'le him. He done give one big laff, an' sent SallyAlley off to Aunt Jinny, de housekeeper, tuh cut her off a new kalikerdress pattern. But dem quality folkses sho' was tickled erbout datone-laiged goose. "

CHAPTER XV

SADIE GORONOFSKY'S BANK

When Ruth Kenway had an idea--a real _good_ idea--it usually bore fruit. She had evolved one of her very best that snowy night while she andAgnes and Neale O'Neil were drinking hot chocolate in Mrs. Kranz'sparlor. 

It was impossible for Ruth to get downtown on Saturday. One reason was, they all got up late, having crept into bed at half-past four. Then, there were the usual household tasks, for all four of the Corner Housegirls had their established duties on Saturday. 

The streets were so full of snow that it would have been almostimpossible for Ruth to have gotten to Mr. Howbridge's office then; butshe went there Monday afternoon. 

Mr. Howbridge had been Uncle Peter Stower's lawyer, and it was he whohad brought the news to the four Kenway girls when they lived inBloomingsburg, that they were actually rich. 

He was a tall, gray gentleman, with sharp eyes and a beaklike nose, andhe looked wonderfully stern and implacable unless he smiled. But healways had a smile for Ruth Kenway. 

The lawyer had acquired a very deep respect for Ruth's good sense andfor her character in general. As he said, there were so many narrow, stingy souls in the world, it was refreshing to meet a generous naturelike that of the oldest Corner House girl. 

"And what is it now, Miss Ruth?" asked the gentleman when she enteredhis private office, and shaking hands with her. "Have you come toconsult me professionally, or am I honored by a social call?"

"You are almost the best man who ever lived, Mr. Howbridge, " laughedRuth. "I _know_ you are the best guardian, for you let me do mostly justas I please. So I am confident you are going to grant _this_request----"

Mr. Howbridge groaned. "You are beginning in your usual way, I see, " hesaid. "You want something of me--but it is for somebody else you wantit, I'll be bound. "

"Oh, no, sir! it is really for me, " declared Ruth. "I'd like quite somemoney. "

"What for, may I ask?"

"Of course, sir. I've come to consult you about it. You see, it's thetenants. "

"Those Meadow Street people!" exclaimed the lawyer. "Your Uncle Petermade money out of them; and his father did before him. But my books willshow little profit from those houses at the end of this year--of that Iam sure. "

"But, if we have made so much out of the houses in the past, shouldn'twe spend some of the profit on the tenants _now_?" asked Ruth earnestly. 

"You are the most practical _im_practical person I ever met, " declaredMr. Howbridge, laughing rather ruefully. 

Ruth did not just understand that; but she was much in earnest and sheput before the lawyer the circumstances of some of the tenants of theold houses on Meadow Street, as she had heard them from Mrs. Kranz andMaria Maroni. 

She did not forget the Goronofskys, despite Tess' story of Sadie's bankin which she was saving her Christmas money; but she did not mentionthis last to the lawyer. 

Ruth wanted of the lawyer details of all the families on the estate'sbooks. She wished to know the earning capacity of each family, how theylived, the number of children in each, and their ages and sex. 

"You see, Mr. Howbridge, a part of our living--and it is a goodliving--comes from these people. We girls should know more about them. And I am anxious to do something for them this Christmas--especially forthe little children. "

"Well, I suppose I shall give in to you; but my better judgment criesout against it, Miss Ruth, " declared the lawyer. "You see Perkins--myclerk. He collects the rents and knows all the tenants. I believe heknows when each man gets paid, how much he gets, and all about it. And, of course, as you say, you'll want some money. "

"Yes, sir. This is for all of us--all four of us Corner House girls. Agnes, and Tess, and Dot, are just as anxious to help these people as Iam. I am sure, Mr. Howbridge, whatever else you may do with money of theestate, _this_ expense will never be questioned by any of us. "

From Mrs. Kranz and Perkins, Ruth obtained the information that shewished. The Corner House girls knew they could do no great thing; butfor the purchase of small presents that children would appreciate, thetwenty-five dollars Ruth got from Mr. Perkins, would go a long way. 

And what fun the Corner House girls had doing that shopping! Tess andDot did their part, and that the entire five and ten cent store was notbought out was not _their_ fault. 

"You can get such a lot for your money in that store, " Dot gravelyannounced, "that a dollar seems twice as big as it does anywhere else. "

"But I don't want the other girls to think we are just 'ten-centers, '"Agnes said. "Trix Severn says she wouldn't be seen going into such acheap place. "

"What do you care what people call you?" asked Ruth. "If you had beenborn in Indiana they'd have called you a 'Hoosier'; and if in NorthCarolina, they'd call you a 'Tar Heel. '"

"Or, if you were from Michigan, they'd say you were a 'Michigander, '"chuckled Neale, who was with them. "In _your_ case, Aggie, it would be'Michigoose. '"

"Is that so?" demanded Agnes, to whom Neale had once confessed that hewas born in the state of Maine. "Then I suppose we ought to call _you_ a'Maniac, ' eh?"

"Hit! a palpable hit!" agreed Neale, good-naturedly. "Come on! let'shave some of your bundles. For goodness' sake! why didn't you girlsbring a bushel basket--or engage a pack-mule?"

"We seem to have secured a very good substitute for the latter, " saidRuth, demurely. 

All this shopping was done early in Christmas week, for the Corner Housegirls determined to allow nothing to break into their own home ChristmasEve celebration. The tree in Tess' room at school was going to belighted up on Thursday afternoon; but Wednesday the Kenway girls wereall excused from school early and Neale drove them over to Meadow Streetin a hired sleigh. 

They stopped before the doors of the respective shops of Mrs. Kranz andJoe Maroni. Joe's stand was strung with gay paper flowers and greens. Hehad a small forest of Christmas trees he was selling, just at thecorner. 

"Good-a day! good-a day, leetla padrona!" was his welcome for Ruth, andhe bowed very low before the oldest Kenway girl, whom he insisted uponconsidering the real mistress of the house in which he and his familylived. 

The little remembrances the girls had brought for Joe's family--down toa rattle for the baby--delighted the Italian. Tess had hung a specialpresent for Maria on the school tree; but that was a secret as yet. 

They carried all the presents into Mrs. Kranz's parlor and then Nealedrove away, leaving the four Corner House girls to play their parts of_Lady Bountiful_ without his aid. 

They had just sallied forth for their first visit when, out of theStower tenement in which the Goronofskys lived, boiled a crowd ofshrieking, excited children. Sadie Goronofsky was at their head and aman in a blue suit and the lettered cap of a gas collector seemed therallying point of the entire savage little gang. 

"Oh! what is the matter, Sadie?" cried Tess, running to the littleJewish girl's side. 

"He's a thief! he's a gonnif! he's a thief!" shrieked Sadie, dragging atthe man's coat. "He stole mine money. He's busted open mine bank andstoled all mine money!"

"That red bank in the kitchen?" asked Tess, wonderingly. "That one yourmother put the quarter in every week for you?"

"Sure!" replied the excited Sadie. "My mother's out. I'm alone with thekids. In this man comes and robs mine bank----"

"What _is_ the trouble?" asked Ruth of the man. 

"Why, bless you, somebody's been fooling the kid, " he said, with somecompassion. "And it was a mean trick. They told her the quarter-meterwas a bank and that all the money that was put in it should be hers. 

"She's a good little kid, too. I've often seen her taking care of herbrothers and sisters and doing the work. The meter had to be openedto-day and the money taken out--and she caught me at it. "

Afterward Agnes said to Ruth: "I could have _hugged_ that man, Ruthie--for he didn't laugh!"

CHAPTER XVI

A QUARTETTE OF LADY BOUNTIFULS

For once the stolid little Sadie was unfaithful to her charges. Sheforgot the little ones her step-mother had left in her care; but theneighbors looked out for them. 

She stood upon the icy walk, when she understood the full truth about"the big red bank in the kitchen, " and watched with tearless eyes thegas collector walk away. 

Her face worked pitifully; her black eyes grew hot; but she would notlet the tears fall. She clenched her little red hands, bit her lowerlip, and stamped her worn shoe upon the walk. Hatred of all mankind--notalone of the woman who had so wickedly befooled her--was welling up inlittle Sadie Goronofsky's heart. 

It was then that Ruth Kenway put her arm around the little Jewish girl'sshoulders and led her away to Mrs. Kranz's back parlor. There the CornerHouse girls told her how sorry they were; Mrs. Kranz filled her handswith "coffee kringle. " Then some of the very best of the presents theCorner House girls had brought were chosen for Sadie's brothers andsisters, and Sadie was to be allowed to take them home herself to them. 

"I don't mind being guyed by the kids at school because I can't putnothin' on that old Christmas tree. But I been promisin' _her_ kids theyshould each have suthin' fine. She's been foolin' them jest the same asshe has me. I don't know what my papa ever wanted ter go and marry _her_for, " concluded Sadie, with a sniff. 

"Hey! hey!" exclaimed Mrs. Kranz, sternly. "Iss dot de vay to talk yedtabout your mamma?"

"She ain't my mamma, " declared Sadie, sullenly. 

"Sthop dot, Sadie!" said Mrs. Kranz. "You cand't remember how sweedtyour papa's wife was to you when you was little. Who do you s'posenursed you t'rough de scarlet fever dot time? Idt wass her. "

"Huh!" grunted Sadie, but she took a thoughtful bite of cake. 

"Undt de measles, yedt, " went on Mrs. Kranz. "Like your own mamma, sheiss dot goot to you. But times iss hardt now, undt poor folks always haftoo many babies. "

"She don't treat me like she was my mamma now, " complained Sadie, with asob that changed to a hiccough as she sipped the mug of coffee that hadbeen the accompaniment of the cake. "She hadn't ought to told me thosequarters she put in that box was mine, when they was to pay the gasman. "

Mrs. Kranz eyed the complainant shrewdly. "Why vor shouldt you pe paidvor he'pin' your mamma yedt?" she asked. "You vouldn't haf gone fromschool home yedt undt helped her, if it hadn't been for vat she toldtyou about de money. You vorked for de money every time--aind't idt?"

Sadie hung her head. 

"Dot is idt!" cried the good German woman. "You make your poor mammatell things to fool you, else you vould sthay avay an' blay. She haf tobribe you to make you help her like you should. Shame! Undt she nodt goto de school like you, undt learn better. "

"I s'pose that's so, " admitted Sadie, more thoughtfully. "She ain't a'Merican like what I am, that goes to school an' learns from books. "

In the end, between the ministrations of the Corner House girls and Mrs. Kranz, the whole Goronofsky family was made happy. Sadie promised tohelp her mamma without being bribed to do so; Mrs. Goronofsky, who was aworn, tired out little woman, proved to have some heart left for herstep-daughter, after all; "the kids" were made delighted by the presentsSadie was enabled to bring them; and Ruth went around to Mr. Goronofsky's shop and presented him with a receipted bill for his houserent for December. 

The work of the quartette of Lady Bountifuls by no means ended with theGoronofskys. Not a tenant of the Stower Estate was missed. Even Mrs. Kranz herself was remembered by the Corner House girls, who presentedher, in combination, a handsome shopping bag to carry when she wentdowntown to the bank. 

It was a busy afternoon and evening they spent on Meadow Street--forthey did not get home to a late supper until eight o'clock. But theircomments upon their adventures were characteristic. 

"It is _so_ satisfactory, " said Ruth, placidly, "to make other peoplehappy. "

"I'm dog tired, " declared Agnes, "but I'd love to start right out and doit all over again!"

"I--I hope the little Maroni baby won't lick all the red paint off thatrattle and make herself sick, " sighed Tess, reflectively. 

"If she does we can buy her a new rattle. It didn't cost but ten cents, "Dot rejoined, seeing at the moment but one side of the catastrophe. 

CHAPTER XVII

"THAT CIRCUS BOY"

The first Christmas since the Kenway girls had "come into" Uncle Peter'sestate was bound to be a memorable one for Ruth and Agnes and Tess andDot. 

Mother Kenway, while she had lived, had believed in the old-fashionedNew England Christmas. The sisters had never had a tree, but they alwayshung their stockings on a line behind the "base-burner" in thesitting-room of the Bloomingsburg tenement. So now they hung them in arow by the dining-room mantelpiece in the old Corner House. 

Uncle Rufus took a great deal of interest in this proceeding. He tookout the fire-board from the old-fashioned chimneyplace, so as to giveingress to Santa Clans when the reindeers of that good saint should landupon the Corner House roof. 

Dot held to her first belief in the personal existence of Saint Nick, and although Tess had some doubts as to his real identity, she would notfor the world have said anything to weaken Dot's belief. 

There was no stove in the way in the dining-room, for the furnace--putinto the cellar by Uncle Peter only shortly before his death--heated thetwo lower floors of the main part of the house, as well as the kitchenwing, in which the girls and Mrs. MacCall slept. 

The girls had begged Neale O'Neil to hang up his stocking with theirs, but he refused--rather gruffly, it must be confessed. Mrs. MacCall andUncle Rufus, however, were prevailed upon to add their hose to the line. Aunt Sarah rather snappishly objected to "exposing her stockings to thepublic view, whether on or off the person, "--so she said. 

The four Corner House girls felt thankful to the queer old woman, whowas really no relation to them at all, but who accepted all their bountyand attentions as though they were hers by right. 

Indeed, at the time when there seemed some doubt as to whether Mr. Howbridge could prove for the Kenway girls a clear title to UnclePeter's property, Aunt Sarah had furnished the necessary evidence, andsent away the claimant from Ipsilanti. 

There was, too, a soft side to Aunt Sarah's character; only, like thechestnutburr, one had to get inside her shell to find it. If one of thechildren was ill, Aunt Sarah was right there with the old fashionedremedies, and although some of her "yarb teas" might be nasty to take, they were efficacious. 

Then, she was always knitting, or embroidering, something or other forthe girls. Now that there was plenty of money in the family purse, sheordered materials just as she pleased, and knit jackets, shawls, mittens, and "wristlets. "

She was a very grim lady and dressed very plainly; although she neversaid so, she liked to have the girls sit with her at their sewing. Shetook infinite pains to teach them to be good needle-women, as her motherhad doubtless taught her. 

So the chief present the girls bought this Christmas for Aunt Sarah wasa handsome sewing table, its drawers well supplied with all manner ofthreads, silks, wools, and such like materials. 

This the Kenway sisters had all "chipped in" to purchase, and the tablewas smuggled into the house and hidden away in one of the spare rooms, weeks before Christmas. The girls had purchased a new dress for Mrs. MacCall, and had furnished out Uncle Rufus from top to toe in a suit ofblack clothes, with a white vest, in which he could wait at table onstate and date occasions, as well as wear to church on Sundays. 

There were, of course, small individual presents from each girl to thesefamily retainers, and to Aunt Sarah. The stockings bulged mostdelightfully in the dining-room when they trooped down to breakfast onChristmas morning. 

Tess and Dot could scarcely eat, their eyes were so fixed upon thedelightfully knobby bundles piled under each of their stockings on thehearth. Agnes declared Tess tried to drink her buckwheat cakes and eather coffee, and that Dot was in danger of sticking her fork into her eyeinstead of into her mouth. 

But the meal was ended at last and Uncle Rufus wheeled out Aunt Sarah'sbeautiful sewing table, with her other smaller presents upon it. Ruthtold her how happy it made them all to give it to her. Aunt Sarah's keeneye lit up as she was shown all the interesting things about her newacquisition; but all the verbal comment she made was that she thought"you gals better be in better business than buying gewgaws for an oldwoman like me. "

"Just the same, she is pleased as Punch, " Mrs. MacCall whispered toRuth. "Only, she doesn't like to show it. "

The girls quickly came to their own presents. None of the articles theyhad bought for each other were of great value intrinsically; but theyall showed love and thoughtfulness. Little things that each had at sometime carelessly expressed a wish for, appeared from the stockings todelight and warm the heart of the recipient. 

There was nobody, of course, to give the two older girls any veryvaluable gifts; but there was a pretty locket and chain for Ruth whichshe had seen in the jewelry-store window and expressed a fondness for, while the desire of Agnes' eyes was satisfied when she found a certainbracelet in the toe of her stocking. 

Tess had a bewildering number of books and school paraphernalia, as wellas additions to her dolls' paraphernalia; but it was Dot who sat downbreathlessly in the middle of the floor under a perfect avalanche oftreasures, all connected with her "children's" comfort and her personalhouse-keeping arrangements. 

It would have been almost sacrilege to have presented Dot with anotherdoll; for the Alice-doll that had come the Christmas before and had onlylately been graduated into short clothes, still held the largest placein the little girl's affections. 

Battered by adversity as the Alice-doll was, Dot's heart could neverhave warmed toward another "child" as it did toward the unfortunate that"Double Trouble"--that angel-faced young one from Ipsilanti--had buriedwith the dried apples. But Dot's sisters had showered upon her everyimaginable comfort and convenience for the use of a growing family ofdolls, as well as particular presents to the Alice-doll herself. 

"What's the matter, child?" asked Mrs. MacCall, seeing the expression onDot's face as she sat among her possessions. "Don't they suit?"

"Mrs. MacCall, " declared Dot, gravely, "I think I shall faint. Myheart's just jumping. If gladness could kill anybody, I know I'd have todie to show how happy I am. And I know my Alice-doll will feel just as Ido. "

Uncle Rufus' daughter, Petunia Blossom, came after breakfast withseveral of her brood--and the laundry cart--to take away the good thingsthat had been gathered for her and her family. 

Petunia was "fast brack, " as her father declared--an enormously fat, jetty-black negress, with a pretty face, and a superabundance ofchildren. To enumerate the Blossom family, as Petunia had once done forRuth's information, there were:

"Two married and moved away; two at work; twins twice makes eight;Alfredia; Jackson Montgomery Simms; Burne-Jones Whistler; the baby; andLouisa Annette. "

Ruth and her sisters had purchased, or made, small and unimportantpresents for Neale O'Neil. Neale had remembered each of them with gifts, all the work of his own hands; a wooden berry dish and ladle for Tess'doll's tea-table; a rustic armchair for the Alice-doll, for Dot; aneatly made pencil box for Agnes; and for Ruth a new umbrella handle, beautifully carved and polished, for Ruth had a favorite umbrella thehandle of which she had broken that winter. 

Neale was ingenious in more ways than one. He showed this at school, too, on several occasions. It was just after the midwinter holidays thatMr. Marks, the grammar school principal, wished to raise the school flagon the roof flag-staff, and it was found that the halyard and block hadbeen torn away by the wind. 

The janitor was too old a man to make the repair and it looked as thougha professional rigger must be sent for, when Neale volunteered. 

Perhaps Mr. Marks knew something about the boy's prowess, for he did nothesitate to give his permission. Neale went up to the roof and mountedthe staff with the halyard rove through the block, and hooked the latterin place with ease. It took but a few minutes; but half the school stoodbelow and held its breath, watching the slim figure swinging sorecklessly on the flag-staff. 

His mates cheered him when he came down, for they had grown fond ofNeale O'Neil. The Corner House girls too, were proud of him. But TrixSevern, who disliked Neale because he paid her no attention, hearingAgnes praising the boy's courage and skill, exclaimed in her sneeringway:

"That circus boy! Why wouldn't he be able to do all sorts of tricks likethat? It was what he was brought up to, no doubt. "

"What do you mean by that, Trix Severn?" demanded Agnes, immediatelyaccepting her enemy's challenge. "Neale is not a circus boy. "

"Oh! he isn't?"

"No. He's never even _seen_ a circus, " the positive Agnes declared. 

"He told you that, did he?" laughed Trix, airily. 

"He said he had never been to see a circus in his life, " Agnes repeated. "And Neale wouldn't lie. "

"That's all you know about him, then, " said Trix. "And I thought youCorner House girls were such friends with Neale O'Neil, " and she walkedoff laughing again, refusing to explain her insinuations. 

But the nickname of "circus boy" stuck to Neale O'Neil after that and heearnestly wished he had not volunteered to fix the flag rigging. _Why_it troubled him so, however, he did not explain to the Corner Housegirls. 

CHAPTER XVIII

SNOWBOUND

Tess said, gloomily, as they gathered about the study table one eveningnot long after New Year's:

"I have to write a composition about George Washington. When was heborn, Ruthie?" Ruth was busy and did not appear to hear. "Say! when_was_ he born?" repeated the ten-year-old. 

"Eighteen seventy-eight, I think, dear, " said Agnes, with more kindnessthan confidence. 

"Oh-o-o!" gasped Dot, who knew something about the "Father of HisCountry. " "He was dead-ed long before _that_. "

"Before when?" demanded Ruth, partly waking up to the situation. 

"Eighteen seventy-eight, " repeated Tess, wearily. 

"Of course I meant seventeen seventy-eight, " interposed Agnes. 

"And at that you're a long way off, " observed Neale, who chanced to beat the Corner House that evening. 

"Well! you know so much, Mr. Smartie!" cried Agnes. "Tell her yourself. "

"I wouldn't have given her the date of George's birth, as being right inthe middle of the Revolutionary War, " exclaimed Neale, stalling for timeto figure out the right date. 

"No; and you are not telling her _any_ year, " said the wise Agnes. 

"Children! don't scrap, " murmured peace-loving Ruth, sinking into thebackground--and her own algebra--again. 

"Well!" complained Tess. "I haven't found out when he was born _yet_. "

"Never mind, honey, " said Agnes. "Tell what he _did_. That's moreimportant. Look up the date later. "

"I know, " said Dot, breaking in with more primary information. "Heplanted a cherry tree. "

"Chopped it down, you mean, " said Agnes. 

"And he never told a lie, " insisted Dot. 

"I believe that is an exploded doctrine, " chuckled Neale O'Neil. 

"Well, how did they _know_ he didn't tell a lie?" demanded Tess, thepractical. 

"They never caught him in one, " said Neale, with brutal frankness. "There's a whole lot of folks honest like _that_. "

"Goodness, Neale!" cried Ruth, waking up again at _that_ heresy. "Howpessimistic you are. "

"Was--was George Washington one of those things?" queried Tess, likingthe sound of the long word. 

"What things?" asked Ruth. 

"Pes-sa-pessamisty?"

"Pessimistic? No, dear, " laughed Ruth. "He was an optimist--or he neverwould have espoused the American cause. "

"He was first in war, first in peace, and first in the hearts of hiscoun-try-men, " sing-songed Dot. 

"Oh, yes! I can put that in, " agreed Tess, abandoning both the hardwords Ruth had used, and getting back to safe details. "And he married alady named Mary, didn't he?"

"No; Martha, " said Agnes. 

"Well, I knew it was one or the other, for we studied about Mary andMartha in our Sunday school lesson last Sunday, " Tess said, placidly. "Martha was troubled about many things. "

"I should think she would have been, " remarked Dot, reflectively, "forGeorge Washington had to fight Indians, and Britishers, and Hessians(who wore blue coats and big hats) and cabals----"

"Hold on!" shouted Neale. "What under the sun is a 'cabal'? A beast, ora bug?"

"Why, my teacher told us about George Washington, " cried Dot, withimportance, "only a little while ago. And she said they raised a cabalagainst him----"

"That means a conspiracy, " put in Ruth, quietly. "How can you folksstudy when you all talk so much?"

"Well, Martha, " began Tess, when Ruth interposed:

"Don't get your Marthas mixed, dear. "

"That's right, Tess, " said Agnes. "George Washington's wife was not thesister of Lazarus--that's sure!"

"Oh, Aggie! how slangy you are!" cried Ruth. 

Neale had slipped out after last speaking. He came in all of a bustle, stamping the snow from his feet on the hall rug. 

"It's begun, girls!" he cried. 

"Ye-es, " admitted Tess, gravely. "I know it's begun; but I don't see howI am _ever_ going to finish it. "

"Oh, dear me, Tess! Let that old composition go for to-night, " beggedAgnes. "Do you mean it has begun to snow, Neale?"

"Like a regular old blizzard, " declared Neale. 

"Is it snowing as hard as it did the night we came from Carrie Poole'sparty?" asked Ruth, interested. 

"Just come out on the porch and see, " advised the boy, and they alltrooped out after him--even Tess putting down her pencil and followingat the rear of the procession. 

It must have been snowing ever since supper time, for the lower step wasalready covered, and the air was thick with great, fleecy flakes, whichpiled drifts rapidly about every object in the Corner House back yard. 

A prolonged "Oh!" came from every one. The girls could not see thestreet fence. The end of the woodshed was the limit of their vision downthe long yard. Two or three fruit trees loomed like drooping ghosts inthe storm. 

"Wonderful! wonderful!" cried Ruth. 

"No school to-morrow, " Agnes declared. 

"Well, I shall be glad, for one thing, " said the worried Tess. "I won'thave to bother about that old composition until another day. "

Agnes was closely investigating the condition of the snow. "See!" shesaid, "it packs beautifully. Let's make a snowman. "

"Goody-good!" squealed Dot. "That'll be _fun_!"

"I--don't--know, " said Ruth, slowly. "It's late now----"

"But there'll be no school, Ruthie, " Tess teased. 

"Come on!" said Neale. "We can make a dandy. "

"Well! Let us put on our warm things--and tell Mrs. MacCall, " Ruth said, willing to be persuaded to get out into the white drifts. 

When the girls came out, wrapped to the eyes, Neale already had severalhuge snowballs rolled. They got right to work with him, and soon theirshrill laughter and jolly badinage assured all the neighborhood that theCorner House girls were out for a good time. 

Yet the heavily falling snow seemed to cut them off like a wall fromevery other habitation. They could not even see the Creamers'cottage--and that was the nearest house. 

It was great fun for the girls and their boy friend. They built a famoussnowman, with a bucket for a cap, lumps of coal for eyes and nose, andstuck into its mouth an old long-stemmed clay pipe belonging to UncleRufus. 

He was a jaunty looking snowman for a little while; but although he wasso tall that the top of his hat was level with the peak of the woodshedroof, before the Corner House girls went to bed he stood more than kneedeep in the drifted snow. 

Neale had to make the round of his furnaces. Fortunately they were allin the neighborhood, but he had a stiff fight to get through the stormto the cobbler's little cottage before midnight. 

At that "witching hour, " if any of the Corner House girls had been awakeand had looked out of the window, they would have seen that the snowmanwas then buried to his waist!

When daylight should have appeared, snow was still falling. A wind hadarisen, and on one side of the old Corner House the drift entirelymasked the windows. At eight o'clock they ate breakfast by lamplight. 

Uncle Rufus did not get downstairs early, as he usually did, and whenTess ran up to call him, she found the old man groaning in his bed, andunable to rise. 

"I done got de mis'ry in my back, chile, " he said, feebly. "Don' yo'worry 'bout me none; I'll be cropin' down erbout noon. "

But Mrs. MacCall would not hear to his moving. There was a smallcylinder stove in his room (it was in the cold wing of the house) andshe carried up kindling and a pail of coal and made a fire for him. ThenTess and Dot carried up his hot breakfast on one of the best trays, witha nice white napkin laid over it. 

"Glo-_ree_! Chillen, yo' mak' a 'ninvalid out o' Unc' Rufus, an' henebber wanter git up out'n hes baid at all. I don't spec' w'ite folksesto wait on me han' an' foot disher way--naw'm!"

"You're going to be treated just like one of the family, Uncle Rufus, "cheerfully cried Ruth, who had likewise climbed the stairs to see him. 

But somebody must do the chores. The back porch was mainly cleared; buta great drift had heaped up before it--higher than Ruth's head. The wayto the side gate was shut off unless they tunneled through this drift. 

At the end of the porch, however, was the entrance to the woodshed, andat the other end of the shed was a second door that opened upon thearbor path. The trellised grapevine extended ten yards from this door. 

Ruth and Agnes ventured to this end door of the shed, and opened theswinging window in it. There was plenty of soft, fluffy snow under thegrape-arbor, but not more than knee deep. 

Against the arbor, on the storm side, the drift had packed up to thevery top of the structure--and it was packed hard; but the lattice onthe side had broken the snowfall and the path under the arbor couldeasily be cleared. 

"Then we can get to the henhouse, Ruthie, " said Agnes. 

"And Billy Bumps, too, sister! Don't forget Billy Bumps, " begged Tessfrom the porch. 

"We'll try it, anyway, " said Ruth. "Here are all the shovels, and weought to be able to do it. "

"Boys would, " proclaimed Agnes. 

"Neale would do it, " echoed Dot, who had come out upon the porchlikewise. 

"I declare! I wish Neale were here right now, " Ruth said. 

"'If wishes were horses, beggars could ride, '" quoted Agnes. "Come on, Ruthie! I guess it's up to us. "

First they went back into the kitchen to put on the warmest things theyhad--boots to keep their feet dry, and sweaters under their schoolcoats, with stockingnet caps drawn down over their ears. 

"I not only wish we _had_ a boy in the family, " grumbled Agnes, "but Iwish _I_ were that boy. What cumbersome clothes girls have to wear!"

"What do you want to wear--overalls and a jumper?" demanded Ruth, tartly. 

"Fine!" cried her reckless sister. "If the suffragettes would demand theright to wear male garments instead of to vote, I'd be a suffragette ina minute!"

"Disgraceful!" murmured Ruth. 

"What?" cried Agnes, grinning. "To be a suffragette? Nothing of thekind! Lots of nice ladies belong to the party, and _we_ may yet. "

They had already been to the front of the old Corner House. A huge driftfilled the veranda; they could not see Main Street save from the upperwindows. And the flakes were still floating steadily downward. 

"We're really snowbound, " said Agnes, in some awe. "Do you suppose wehave enough to eat in the house, to stand a long siege?"

"If we haven't, " said Mrs. MacCall, from the pantry, "I'll fry you somesnowballs and make a pot of icicle soup. "

CHAPTER XIX

THE ENCHANTED CASTLE

It was plain that the streets would not be cleared _that_ day. If thegirls were able to get to school by the following Monday they would befortunate. 

None of the four had missed a day since the schools had opened inSeptember, and from Ruth down, they did not wish to be marked as absenton their reports. This blizzard that had seized Milton in its grasp, however, forced the Board of Education to announce in the _Post_ thatpupils of all grades would be excused until the streets were moderatelypassable. 

"Poor people will suffer a good deal, I am afraid, " Ruth said, on thisvery first forenoon of their being snowbound. 

"Our folks on Meadow Street, " agreed Agnes. "I hope Mrs. Kranz will bekind to them. "

"But we oughtn't to expect Mrs. Kranz, or Joe Maroni, to give away theirfood and coal. Then _they'd_ soon be poor, too, " said the earnest Ruth. "I tell you what, Aggie!"

"Well--shoot!"

Ruth overlooked her sister's slang for once. "We should leave money withMrs. Kranz to help our poor folk, when we can't get over there to seethem so frequently. "

"Goodness, Ruth!" grumbled Agnes. "We won't have any spending money leftfor ourselves if we get into this charity game any deeper. "

"Aren't you ashamed?" cried Ruth. 

Agnes only laughed. They both knew that Agnes did not mean all that shesaid. 

Ruth was already attacking the loose, fluffy snow under the arbor, andAgnes seized a spade and followed her older sister. It did not take sucha great effort to get to the end of the arbor; but beyond that a greatmass of hard-packed snow confronted them. Ruth could barely see over it. 

"Oh, dear me!" groaned Agnes. "We'll never be able to dig a path through_that_. "

This looked to be true to the older girl, too; so she began thinking. But it was Dot, trying to peer around the bigger girls' elbows, whosolved the problem. 

"Oh, my! how nice it would be to have a ladder and climb up to the topof that snowbank, " she cried. "Maybe we could go over to MabelCreamer's, right over the fence and all, Tess!"

"Hurray!" shouted Agnes. "We can cut steps in the bank, Ruth. Dot hasgiven us a good idea--hasn't she?"

"I believe she has, " agreed the oldest Kenway. 

Although the snow had floated down so softly at first (and was nowcoming in feathery particles) during the height of the storm, the windhad blown and it had been so cold that the drifts were packed hard. 

Without much difficulty the girls made four steps up out of the mouth ofthe grape-arbor, to the surface of the drift. Then they tramped a pathon top to the door of the henhouse. 

By this same entrance they could get to the goat's quarters. The snowhad drifted completely over the henhouse, but that only helped to keepthe hens and Billy Bumps warm. 

Later the girls tunneled through the great drift at the back porch, leaving a thick arch which remained for the rest of the week. So theygot a path broken to the gate on Willow Street. 

The snowman had disappeared to his shoulders. It continued to snow mostof that day and the grape-arbor path became a perfect tunnel. 

There was no school until Monday. Even then the streets were almostimpassable for vehicles. The Highway Department of the town was removingthe drifts in the roads and some of this excavated snow was dumped atthe end of the Parade Ground, opposite the schools. 

The boys hailed these piles of snow as being fine for fortifications, and snowball battles that first day waxed furious. 

Then the leading spirits among the boys--including Neale O'Neil--puttheir heads together and the erection of the enchanted castle was begun. But more of _that_ anon. 

Tess had had plenty of time to write that composition on the "Father ofHis Country. " Indeed, Miss Andrews should have had a collection ofwonderfully good biographical papers handed in by her class on thatMonday morning. 

But Tess's was not all that might be desired as a sketch of GeorgeWashington's life, and the teacher told her so. Still, she did betterwith her subject than Sadie Goronofsky did with hers. 

Sadie had been given Longfellow to write about, and Miss Andrews showedthe composition to Agnes' teacher as an example of what could be done inthe line of disseminating _mis_information about the Dead and the Great. Miss Shipman allowed Agnes to read it. 

 "Longfellow was a grand man; he wrote both poems and poetry. He graduated at Bowdoin and afterward taught in the same school where he graduated. He didn't like teaching and decided to learn some other trade, so his school furnished him money to go to Europe and learn to be a poet. After that he wrote many beautiful rhymes for children. He wrote 'Billy, the Blacksmith, ' and Hiwater, what I seen in a pitcher show. "

"Well, Sadie maybe doesn't know much about poets, " said Tess, reflectively, when she heard her older sisters laughing about the funnycomposition. "But she knows numbers, and can multiply and divide. Butthen, Maria Maroni can make change at her father's stand, and she toldMiss Andrews of all the holidays, she liked most the Fourth of July, because that was when America was discovered. Of course _that_ isn'tso, " concluded Tess. 

"When was it discovered?" asked Ruth. 

"Oh, I know! I know!" cried Dot, perilously balancing a spoonful of mushand milk on the way to her mouth, in midair. "It was in 1492 atThanksgiving time, and the Pilgrim Fathers found it first. So theycalled it Plymouth Rock--and you've got some of their hens in yourhen-yard, Ruthie. "

"My goodness!" gasped Agnes, after she had laughed herself almost out ofher chair over this. "These primary minds are like sieves, aren't they?All the information goes through, while the mis-information sticks. "

"Huh!" said Tess, vexed for the moment. "You needn't say anything, Aggie. You told us George Washington was born in 1778 and teacher gaveme a black mark on _that_. "

As that week progressed and the cold weather continued, a reallywonderful structure was raised on the Parade Ground opposite the maindoor of the Milton High School. The boys called it the snow castle and areporter for the _Post_ wrote a piece about it even before it wasfinished. 

Boys of all grades, from the primary up, had their "fingers in the pie";for the very youngest could roll big snowballs on the smooth lawns ofthe Parade at noon when the sun was warm, and draw them to the site ofthe castle on their sleds after school was over for the day. 

The bigger boys built up the walls, set in the round windows of ice, which were frozen each night in washtubs and brought carefully to thecastle. The doorway was a huge arch, with a sheet of ice set in at thetop like a fanlight over an old-fashioned front door. A flat roof wasmade of planks, with snow shoveled upon them and tramped down. 

Several pillars of fence rails were set up inside to keep the roof fromsagging; then the castle was swept out, the floor smoothed, and thegirls were allowed to enter. 

It was a fine, big snowhouse, all of forty feet long and half as wide. It was as large as a small moving picture place. 

Somebody suggested having moving pictures in it--or a magic lanternshow, but Joe Eldred, one of the bigger high school boys, whose fatherwas superintendent of the Milton Electric Lighting Company, had a betteridea than that. 

On Thursday, when the castle was all finished, and the _Post_ had spokenof it, Joe went to his father and begged some wire and rigging, and theboys chipped in to buy several sixty-watt lamps. 

Joe Eldred was a young electrician himself, and Neale O'Neil aided him, for Neale seemed to know a lot about electric lighting. When his matescalled him "the circus boy, " Neale scowled and said nothing, but he wastoo good-natured and polite to refuse to help in any general plan forfun like this now under way. 

Joe got a permit from Mr. Eldred and then they connected up the lampsthey had strung inside the castle and at the entrance, with the citylighting cables. 

At dusk that Thursday evening, the snowhouse suddenly burst intoillumination. The sheets of clear ice made good windows. Christmasgreens were festooned over the entrance, and around the walls within. 

After supper the boys and girls gathered in and about the snow castle;somebody brought a talking machine from home and played some dancerecords. The older girls, and some of the boys, danced. 

But the castle was not ornate enough to suit the builders. The next daythey ran up a false-front with a tower at either side. These towers werepartly walled with ice, too, and the boys illuminated them that night. 

Saturday the boys were busier than ever, and they spread broadcast theannouncement of a regular "ice-carnival" for that evening. 

After the crowd had gone away on Friday night, a few of the boysremained and flooded the floor of the castle. This floor was nowsmoothly frozen, and the best skaters were invited to come Saturdaynight and "show off. "

By evening, too, the battlements of the castle had been raised on allfour sides. At each corner was a lighted tower, and in the middle of theroof a taller pinnacle had been raised with a red, white, and blue star, in colored electric bulbs, surmounting it. 

Milton had never seen such an exhibition before, and a crowd turnedout--many more people than could possibly get into the place at once. There was music, and the skating was attractive. Visitors were allowedin the castle, but they were obliged to keep moving, having to walk downone side of the castle, and up the other, so as to give those behind achance to see everything. 

The Corner House girls had thought the enchanted castle (for so itlooked to be from their windows at home) a very delightful object. Ruthand Agnes went up after supper on Saturday evening, with their skates. 

Both of them were good skaters and Neale chose Aggie to skate with himin the carnival. Joe Eldred was glad to get Ruth. Carrie and Lucy Poolewere paired off with two of the big boys, and _they_ were nowhere nearas good skaters as Trix Severn. 

Yet Trix was neglected. She had to go alone upon the ice, or skate withanother girl. There was a reason for this neglect that Trix could notappreciate. Boys do not like to escort a girl who is always "knocking"some other girl. The boys declared Trix Severn "carried her hammer"wherever she went and they steered clear of her when they wanted to havea good time. 

Every time Agnes and Neale O'Neil passed Trix Severn upon the ice, shewas made almost ill with envy!

CHAPTER XX

TRIX SEVERN IN PERIL

That cold spell in January was a long one. The young folk of Milton hadplenty of sledding, and some skating. But the snow-ice on Milton Pondwas "hubbly" and not nice to skate on, while there were only a fewpatches of smooth ice anywhere in town. 

Therefore the boys never failed to flood the interior of the snow castleeach night before they went home. They did this easily by means of ashort piece of fire-hose attached to the nearby hydrant. 

Taking pattern of this idea, Neale O 'Neil made a small pond for the twoyoungest Corner House girls in the big garden at the rear of the house. Here Tess could practise skating to her heart's content, and even Dotessayed the art. 

But the latter liked better to be drawn about on her sled, with theAlice-doll in her arms, or perhaps one of the cats. 

Bungle, Dot's own particular pet among Sandyface's children, was now agreat lazy cat; but he was gentle. Dorothy could do anything withhim--and with Popocatepetl, as well. 

One day the doctor's wife came to call at the old Corner House. Thedoctor and his wife were a childless couple and that was why, perhaps, they both had developed such a deep interest in the four girls who madethe old Stower homestead so bright and lively. 

Dr. Forsyth never met Dot on the street with the Alice-doll withoutstopping to ask particularly after the latter's health. He said he felthimself to be consultant in general and family physician for all Dot'sbrood of doll-babies, for the Kenway sisters were far too healthy toneed his attention in any degree. 

"If all my customers were like you girls, " he declared, in his jovialway, "I'd have to take my pills and powders to another shop. "

Ruth knew that Mr. Howbridge had insisted at first that Dr. Forsyth"look over" the Corner House girls, once in so often. But just forhimself, she was always glad to see the doctor's ruddy, smiling faceapproaching. The girls were all fond of Mrs. Forsyth, too, for she didnot come professionally. On the occasion referred to, Mrs. Forsyth wasushered by Mrs. MacCall, quite unexpectedly, into the back parlor, orsitting-room, which the family used a good deal nowadays. 

The lady had been out for an airing in the doctor's two-seated sleighand she brought in with her a cunning little Pomeranian dog of which shewas very fond. 

It was a pretty, harmless little beast and the Corner House girlsthought Tootsie awfully cunning. Other members of the household did notlook upon the Pomeranian, however, in the same light. 

Dot was apparently the single occupant of the sitting-room when Mrs. Forsyth bustled in. "I'll tell the girls, " Mrs. MacCall said, briskly, and she shut the visitor into the room, for on this cold day the bigfront hall was draughty. 

Mrs. Forsyth put the Pomeranian down at once and advanced toward theregister. "Well, my dear!" she cried, seeing Dot. "How do you do, child?Come give Auntie Forsyth a kiss. I declare! I get hungry for littlegirl's kisses, so few of them come my way. "

"Goodness! what have you there?"

For what she had supposed to be two gaily dressed dolls sitting side byside upon the sofa behind Dot, had suddenly moved. Mrs. Forsyth was alittle near-sighted, anyway, and now she was without her glasses, whileher eyes were watering because of the cold. 

"Why, " said Dot, in a most matter-of-fact way, "it's only Bungle andPopocatepetl. "

"Popo----_who_?" gasped Mrs. Forsyth, at that amazing name. 

Dot repeated it. She had learned to pronounce it perfectly and wasrather proud of the accomplishment. 

There was another movement on the sofa. The two cats were dressed indoll clothes, and their activities were somewhat restricted, but theyhad sensed the presence of the dog the instant it had come into theroom. 

"Oh! oh!" cried Dot, suddenly. "Bungle! you be good. Petal! don't youdare move!"

The cheerful little dog, quite unsuspicious of harm, had trotted afterits mistress. Despite the clinging doll clothes, the tails of Bungle andPopocatepetl swelled, their backs went up, and they began to spit!

"Tootsie!" screamed the doctor's wife in alarm. 

Dot shouted at the cats, too, but neither they, nor the dog, were in amood to obey. The Pomeranian was too scared, and Bungle and Popocatepetlwere too angry. 

Tootsie saw her enemies just as the cats leaped. Hampered by thegarments Dot had put upon them, both Bungle and Popocatepetl wenthead-over-heels when they first landed on the floor, and with afrightened "ki, yi!" Tootsie distanced them to the far end of the room. 

There was no cover there for the terrified pup, and when the twocats--clawing at the dresses and threatening vengeance--came after thedog, Tootsie tried to crawl under the three-sided walnut "whatnot" thatstood in the corner between the windows. 

The whatnot was shaky, having only three short, spindle legs. Tootsiedarted under and then darted out again. Bungle got in one free-handedslap at the little dog as she went under, while Popocatepetl caught heron the rebound as Tootsie came out. 

The long, silky hair of the dog saved her from any injury. But she wasso scared that she yelped as though the claws of both cats had torn her. 

"Oh! my poor Tootsie!" wailed the doctor's wife. "They will kill her. "

Dot stood, open mouthed. She could not quench the fury of the angeredcats. 

"That--that's my Alice-doll's next-to-best dress, Bungle!" she managedto say. "You're tearing it! you're tearing it!"

Just then the door opened. Uncle Rufus came tottering in with thefeather duster. The old man's rheumatism still troubled him and he wasnot steady on his feet. 

Tootsie saw a way of escape. She darted between Uncle Rufus' legs, stillyelping as loudly as she could. 

"Wha' fo' dat? wha' fo' dat?" ejaculated Uncle Rufus, and he fell backagainst the door which closed with a slam. If Tootsie had possessed along tail it certainly would have been caught. 

"Git erway f'om yere, you pesky cats!" shouted Uncle Rufus as Bungle andPopocatepetl charged the door on the trail of the terrified dog. 

"Oh, dear me! Don't let them out, " begged Dot, "till I can get my doll'sclothes off. "

"My poor Tootsie!" cried Mrs. Forsyth again. 

"Hush yo'! hush yo'!" said Uncle Rufus, kindly. "Dar's a do' shet 'twixtdat leetle fice an' dem crazy cats. Dar's sho' nuff wot de papahs callser armerstice 'twixt de berlig'rant pahties--ya-as'm! De berry wust hashappen' already, so yo' folkses might's well git ca'm--git ca'm. "

The old colored man's philosophy delighted the doctor's wife so muchthat she had to laugh. Yet she was not wholly assured that Tootsie wasnot hurt until the older girls had trailed the Pomeranian under the bedin one of the chambers. She had only been hurt in her feelings. 

The cats could not seem to calm down either, and Uncle Rufus had to holdone after the other while Dot removed what remained of the doll'sclothes, in which she had decked out her favorites. 

"I guess I don't want cats for doll-babies any more, " Dot said, withgravity, examining a scratch on her plump wrist, after supper thatevening. "They don't seem able to learn the business--not _good_. "

Agnes laughed, and sing-songed:

 "Cats delight To scratch and bite, For 'tis their nature to; But pretty dolls With curly polls, Have something else to do. "

"I think our Aggie is going to be a poetess, " said Tess, to Ruth, secretly. "She rhymes so easy!"

"I'd rather have her learn to pick up her things and put them properlyaway, " said Ruth, who was trying to find her own out-door clothing onthe back hall rack. "My goodness! everything I put my hand on belongs toAgnes. "

"That's because I'm rich, " returned Agnes cheerfully. "For once in mylife I have a multitude of clothes, " and she started off, cheerfullywhistling and swinging her skates. Ruth had almost to run to catch upwith her before she struck across into the Parade. 

The weather had moderated that day, and at noon the gutters were floodedand the paths ran full streams. The boys, however, had pronounced theice in the snow castle to be in fine shape. 

"Perhaps this will be the last night we can skate there, " Ruth said asthey tramped along the Parade walk, side by side. 

"Oh, I hope not!" cried Agnes. 

"But Neale says the weight of the towers and the roof of the castle willmaybe make the walls slump right down there, if it begins to thaw. "

"Oh! I don't believe it, " said Agnes, who did not _want_ to believe it. "It looks just as strong!"

They could see the gaily illuminated snow castle through the branches ofthe leafless trees. The fiery star above it and the lights below shiningthrough the ice-windows, made it very brilliant indeed. 

"Well, " Ruth said, with a sigh, "if the boys say it isn't safe, wemustn't go in to-night, Agnes. "

There were only a few young folk already assembled about the castle whenthe Corner House girls arrived. A man in a blue uniform with silverbuttons, had just come out of the castle with Joe Eldred and NealeO'Neil. 

"I don't know whether it's safe, or not, " the fireman was saying. "Giveme a frame building, and I can tell all right and proper. But I neverran to a fire in a snowhouse, and I don't know much about them--that's afact, " and he laughed. 

Neale looked serious when he walked over to the two Corner House girls. 

"What's the matter, Sir Lachrymose?" demanded Agnes, gaily. 

"I believe the further wall of this snowhouse has slumped, " he said. "Maybe there is no danger, but I don't know. "

"Oh, nobody will go in, of course, " Ruth cried. 

"Sure they will, Ruth. Don't be a goose, " said Agnes, sharply. 

"_I_ certainly will not, " her sister said. "It was real warm this noonand maybe the house is just tottering. Isn't that so, Neale?"

"I don't know, " said the boy. "Wish I did. "

"Let's go in and find out, " said Agnes, the reckless. 

"Wait, " drawled Neale. "I'd rather find out, out here than inthere--especially if the thing is coming down. "

"There goes Trix Severn--and Wilbur Ketchell, " said Agnes, rathercrossly. "They're going to risk it. "

"Let them go, Aggie, " said Neale. "I'm not going into that place untilI'm sure. "

"Nor am I, " Ruth announced, with emphasis. 

"Well, I don't see----" Agnes began, when Neale exclaimed:

"Wait. Joe's stopped them. "

Eldred had interfered when Trix and her escort started into the snowcastle. The Corner House girls and Neale drew near. 

"I don't care!" Trix was saying in her loud voice. "I'm going to skate. Oh! don't bother to tell me it isn't safe, Joe Eldred. You just want tokeep me off the ice. "

She was already sitting on a rough bench that had been drawn there bythe boys, and Wilbur was putting on her skates. 

"You always do know it all, Trix, " Joe said, sharply, "but I advise youto go slow----"

The obstinate girl stood up as Wilbur finished with the last strap. Shelaughed in Joe's face. 

"You make me tired, Joe Eldred, " she observed, and without waiting forfurther parley she shot away into the otherwise empty castle. 

"Oh! why didn't you stop her?" cried Ruth, anxiously. 

"I'd like to see anybody stop _that_ girl, " growled Joe. 

"She's as reckless as she can be, " said Neale. 

"Aw, say!" exclaimed Wib, as they called young Ketchell, "is the roofreally unsafe?"

"We don't know, " Neale said, in a worried tone. Then suddenly there wasa sharp crack from inside the snow castle. 

"Crickey! it's coming down!" exclaimed Wilbur. 

"What _was_ that, Neale?" demanded Joe Eldred. 

"That pillar's gone!" exclaimed Neale O'Neil, pointing to one of thewooden supports by which the roof of planks and snow was partly upheld. 

On the tail of his declaration there was another crash and a secondsupport, farther down the hall, was splintered. 

"The roof's coming down, Trix! Come back! come back!" shrieked Agnes. 

Trix was at the far end. She had turned swiftly and they could see herface. The wooden supports giving way between her and the exit frightenedthe reckless girl immeasurably. 

"Come back, Trix!" Ruth added her cry to her sister's. 

The electric lights began to quiver. The whole mass of the roof must besagging down. Ketchell kicked off his skates and picked them up, preparatory to getting out of the way. 

And perhaps it was just as well that he had showed no heroism. Had heskated in for the girl, he could not have aided her in any way. 

Trix started for the front of the snow castle. They saw her stoopforward and put on speed, and then--in a flash--the middle of the roofsettled and crashed to the floor--and the sound of the wreck almostdeafened the onlookers!

CHAPTER XXI

A BACKYARD CIRCUS

They said afterward that the wreck of the snow castle was heard clear tothe outskirts of the town. The _Morning Post_ said that it wasdisgraceful that the school authorities had allowed it to be built. Parents and guardians were inclined to rail against what they hadpreviously praised the boys for doing. 

The fact remained, and the calmer people of the community admitted it, that as soon as there was any danger the boys had warned everybody out. That one headstrong girl--and she, only--was caught in the wreckage, didnot change the fact that the boys had been very careful. 

At the moment the roof of the snow castle crashed in, the only thoughtof those in sight of the catastrophe was of Trix Severn. 

"Oh! save her! save her!" Ruth Kenway cried. 

"She's killed! I _know_ she is!" wept Agnes, wringing her hands. 

Joe Eldred and Wib Ketchell were as pale as they could be. None of thelittle group at the entrance moved for a full minute. Then Neale O'Neilbrought them all to life with:

"_She wasn't under that fall!_ Quick! 'round to the rear! We can saveher. "

"I tell you she's dead!" avowed Wilbur, hoarsely. 

"Come on!" shouted Neale, and seized a shovel that stood leaning againstthe snow wall. "Come on, Joe! The roof's only fallen in the middle. Trixis back of that, I tell you!"

"Neale is right! Neale is right!" screamed Agnes. "Let's dig her out. "

She and Ruth started after Neale O'Neil and Joe. Wilbur ran away interror and did much to spread the senseless alarm throughout theneighborhood that half the school children in town were buried beneaththe wreckage of the snow castle!

But it was bad enough--at first. The Corner House girls and their boyfriends were not altogether sure that Trix was only barred from escapeby the falling rubbish. 

Neale and Joe attacked the rear wall of the structure with vigor, butthe edge of their shovels was almost turned by the icy mass. Axes andcrowbars would scarcely have made an impression on the hard-packed snow. 

It was Ruth who pointed the right way. She picked up a hard lump of snowand sent it crashing through the rear ice-window!

"Trix!" she shouted. 

"Oh! get me out! get me out!" the voice of the missing girl replied. 

Another huge section of the roof, with the side battlements, cavedinward; but it was a forward section. 

The boys knocked out the rest of the broken ice around the window-holeand Neale leaped upon the sill which was more than three feet across. The walls of the castle were toppling, and falling, and the lights hadgone out. But there was a moon and the boy could see what he was about. 

The spectators at a distance were helpless during the few minutes whichhad elapsed since the first alarm. Nobody came to the assistance of theCorner House girls and the two boys. 

But Trix was able to help herself. Neale saw her hands extended, and heleaned over and seized her wrists, while Joe held him by the feet. 

Then with a heave, and wriggle, "that circus boy, " as Trix had nicknamedhim, performed the feat of getting her out of the falling castle, andthe Corner House girls received her with open arms. 

The peril was over, but rumor fed the excitement for an hour and broughtout as big a crowd as though there had been a fire in the businesssection of the town. 

Trix clung to Ruth and Agnes Kenway in an abandonment of terror andthanksgiving, at first. The peril she had suffered quite broke down herhaughtiness, and the rancor she had felt toward the Corner House girlswas dissipated. 

"There, there! Don't you cry any more, Trix, " urged good-natured Agnes. "I'm _so_ glad you got out of that horrid place safely. And we didn'thelp you, you know. It was Neale O'Neil. "

"That circus boy" had slunk away as though he had done somethingcriminal; but Joe was blowing a horn of praise for Neale in the crowd, as the Corner House girls led Trix away. 

Ruth and Agnes went home with Trix Severn, but they would not go intothe house that evening as Trix desired. The very next morning Trix wasaround before schooltime, to walk to school with Agnes. And within aweek (as Neale laughingly declared to Ruth) Agnes and Trix were "asthick as thieves!"

"Can you beat Aggie?" scoffed Neale. "That Trix girl has been treatingher as mean as she knows how for months, and now you couldn't pry Aggieaway from her with a crowbar. "

"I am glad, " said Ruth, "that Agnes so soon gets over being mad. "

"Huh! Trix is soft just now. But wait till she gets mad again, " heprophesied. 

However, this intimacy of Agnes with her former enemy continued so longthat winter passed, and spring tiptoed through the woods and fields, flinging her bounties with lavish hand, while still Agnes and Trixremained the best of friends. 

As spring advanced, the usual restless spirit of the season pervaded theold Corner House. Especially did the little girls find it infectious. Tess and Dot neglected the nursery and the dolls for the sake of beingout-of-doors. 

Old Billy Bumps, who had lived almost the life of a hermit for part ofthe winter, was now allowed the freedom of the premises for a part ofeach day. They kept the gates shut; but the goat had too good a home, and led too much a life of ease here at the Corner House, to wish towander far. 

The girls ran out to the rescue of any stranger who came to the WillowStreet gate. It was not everybody that Billy Bumps "took to, " but manyhe "took after. "

When he took it into his hard old head to bump one, he certainly bumpedhard--as witness Mr. Con Murphy's pig that he had butted through thefence on the second day of his arrival at the old Corner House. 

That particular pig had been killed, but there was another young porkernow in the cobbler's sty. Neale O'Neil continued to lodge with Mr. ConMurphy. He was of considerable help to the cobbler, and the littleIrishman was undoubtedly fond of the strange boy. 

For Neale _did_ remain a stranger, even to his cobbler friend, as Mr. Murphy told Ruth and Agnes, when they called on him on one occasion. 

"An oyster is a garrulous bir-r-rd beside that same Neale O'Neil. I knowas much about his past now as I did whin he kem to me--which same isjist nawthin' at all, at all!"

"I don't believe he _has_ a past!" cried Agnes, eager to defend herhero. 

"Sure, d'ye think the bye is a miracle?" demanded Con Murphy. "That hehas no beginning and no ending? Never fear! He has enough to tell us ifhe would, and some day the dam of his speech will go busted, and we'llhear it all. "

"Is he afraid to tell us who he really is?" asked Ruth, doubtfully. 

"I think so, Miss, " said the cobbler. "He is fearin' something--that Iknow. But phat that same is, I dunno!"

Neale O'Neil had made good at school. He had gained the respect of Mr. Marks and of course Miss Georgiana liked him. With the boys and girls ofgrade six, grammar, he was very popular, and he seemed destined tograduate into high school in June with flying colors. 

June was still a long way off when, one day, Tess and Dot begged Nealeto harness Billy Bumps to the wagon for them. Uncle Rufus had fashioneda strong harness and the wagon to which the old goat was attached hadtwo seats. He was a sturdy animal and had been well broken; so, if hewished to do so, he could trot all around the big yard with Tess and Dotin the cart. 

Sometimes Billy Bumps did not care to play pony; then it was quiteimpossible to do anything with him. But he was never rough with, oroffered to butt, Tess and Dot. They could manage his goatship whennobody else could. 

Sometimes Billy Bumps' old master, Sammy Pinkney, came over to see hisformer pet, but the bulldog, Jock, remained outside the gate. BillyBumps did not like Jock, and he was never slow to show his antagonismtoward the dog. 

On this occasion that Neale harnessed the goat to the wagon, there wasno trouble at first. Billy Bumps was feeling well and not too lazy. Tessand Dot got aboard, and the mistress of the goat seized the reins andclucked to him. 

Billy Bumps drove just like a pony--and was quite as well trained. Thelittle girls guided him all around the garden, and then around thehouse, following the bricked path down to the front gate. 

They never went outside with Billy unless either Neale, or Uncle Rufus, was with them, for there was still a well developed doubt in the mindsof the older folk as to what Billy Bumps might do if he took it into hishead to have a "tantrum. "

"As though our dear old Billy Bumps would do anything naughty!" Dotsaid. "But, as you say, Tess, we can't go out on Main Street with himunless we ask. "

"And Uncle Rufus is busy, " said Tess, turning the goat around. 

They drove placidly around the house again to the rear, following thepath along the Willow Street side. 

"There's Sammy Pinkney, " said Dot. 

"Well, I hope he doesn't come in, " said Tess, busy with the reins. "Heis too rough with Billy Bumps. "

But Sammy came in whistling, with his cap very far back on his closelycropped head, and the usual mischievous grin on his face. Jock was athis heels and Billy Bumps immediately stopped and shook his head. 

"Now, you send that dog right back, Sammy, " commanded Tess. "You knowBilly Bumps doesn't like him. "

"Aw, I didn't know Jock was following me, " explained Sammy, and he drovethe bulldog out of the yard. But he failed to latch the gate, and Jockwas too faithful to go far away. 

Billy Bumps was still stamping his feet and shaking his head. Sam cameup and began to rub his ears--an attention for which the goat did notcare. 

"Don't tease him, Sammy, " begged Dot. 

"Aw, I'm not, " declared Sammy. 

"He doesn't like that--you know he doesn't, " admonished Tess. 

"He ought to have gotten used to it by this time, " Sammy declared. "Jinks! what's that?"

Unnoticed by the children, Sandyface, the old mother cat, had gravelywalked down the path to the street gate. She was quite oblivious of thepresence, just outside, of Jock, who crouched with the very tip of hisred tongue poked out and looking just as amiable as it is ever possiblefor a bulldog to look. 

Suddenly Jock spied Sandyface. The dog was instantly allattention--quivering muzzle, twitching ears, sides heaving, even hisabbreviated tail vibrating with delighted anticipation. Jock consideredcats his rightful prey, and Sammy was not the master to teach himbetter. 

The dog sprang for the gate, and it swung open. Sandyface saw her enemywhile he was in midair. 

She flew across the backyard to the big pear-tree. Jock was right behindher, his tongue lolling out and the joy of the chase strongly exhibitedin his speaking countenance. 

In his usual foolish fashion, the bulldog tried to climb the tree afterthe cat. Jock could never seem to learn that he was not fitted by naturefor such exploits, and wherever the game led, he tried to follow. 

His interest being so completely centered in Sandyface and his attemptto get her, peril in the rear never crossed Jock's doggish mind. 

Old Billy Bumps uttered a challenging "blat" almost upon the tail ofSammy's shout; then he started headlong for his ancient enemy. He gavehis lady passengers no time to disembark, but charged across the yard, head down, and aimed directly at the leaping bulldog. 

The latter, quite unconscious of impending peril, continued to try tocatch Sandyface, who looked down upon his foolish gyrations from abranch near the top of the tree. Perhaps she divined what was about tohappen to the naughty Jock, for she did not even meow!

CHAPTER XXII

MR. SORBER

Tess had presence of mind enough to holloa "Whoa!" and she kept right onsaying it. Usually it was effective, but on this occasion Billy Bumpswas deaf to his little mistress. 

Dot clung to Tess's shoulders and screamed. There was really nothingelse for her to do. 

Sammy had grabbed at the goat's horns and was promptly overthrown. Theyleft him roaring on his back upon the brick walk, while the goat toreon, dragging the bumping wagon behind him. 

Billy Bumps had not earned his name without reason. Having taken aim atthe bulldog jumping up and down against the trunk of the pear tree, nothing but a solid wall could have stopped him. 

There was a crash as one forward wheel of the cart went over a stone. Out toppled Tess and Dot upon the soft earth. 

Billy Bumps went on and collided with Jock, much to that animal'ssurprise and pain. The bulldog uttered a single yelp as the goat got himbetween his hard horns and the treetrunk. 

"You stop that, Billy!" roared Sam, struggling to his feet. "Let my dogalone. "

But Jock was not likely to give the goat a second chance. He limpedaway, growling and showing his teeth, while Billy Bumps tried to freehimself of the harness so as to give pursuit. 

"Don't you hurt Billy!" Tess screamed at Sam, getting to her feet andhelping Dot to rise. 

"I'd like to knock him!" cried Sam. 

"You ought to keep your dog out of our yard!" declared Tess. Dot wascrying a little and the older girl was really angry. 

"I'll set him onto that Billy Bumps next time I get a chance, " growledSam. 

"You dare!" cried Tess. 

But Jock was already outside of the yard. When Sam whistled for him, heonly wagged his stump of a tail; he refused to return to a place where, it was plain to his doggish intelligence, he was not wanted. Besides, Jock had not yet gotten a full breath since the goat butted him. 

Sammy picked up a clothes-pole and started to punish Billy Bumps as hethought fit. Just then the goat got free from the cart and started forMaster Pinkney. The latter dropped the pole and got to the gate first, but only just in time, for Billy crashed head-first into it, breaking apicket, he was so emphatic!

"You wait! I'll kill your old goat, " threatened Sammy, shaking his fistover the fence. "You see if I don't, Tess Kenway, " forgetting, itseemed, that it had been he who had presented the goat to the CornerHouse girl. 

Billy trotted back proudly to the girls to be petted, as though he haddone a very meritorious act. Perhaps he had, for Sandyface at once camedown from the tree, to sit on the porch in the sunshine and "wash herface and hands"; she doubtless considered Billy Bumps very chivalrous. 

The great hullabaloo brought most of the family to the scene, as well asNeale from over the back fence. But the fun was all over and Sammy andhis bulldog were gone when the questioners arrived. 

Dot explained volubly: "Billy Bumps wouldn't see poor Sandy abused--no, he wouldn't! That's why he went for that horrid dog. "

"Why, " said Ruth, laughing, "Billy must be a regular knight. "

"'In days of old, when knights were bold!'" sang Neale. 

"I've an improvement on _that_, " Agnes said, eagerly. "Listen:

 "'Sir Guy, a knight, In armor bright, Took tea with Mistress Powsers. With manner free, She spilled the tea, And rusted Guy's best trousers!'"

"Then he certainly must have looked _a guy_!" Neale declared. "I alwayswondered how those 'knights of old' got along in their tin uniforms. After a campaign in wet weather they must have been a pretty rustylooking bunch. "

It was about this time that Neale O'Neil got his name in the localpaper, and the Corner House girls were very proud of him. 

Although Neale was so close-mouthed about his life before his arrival inMilton, the girls knew he was fond of, and had been used to, horses. Ifhe obtained a job on Saturday helping a teamster, or driving a privatecarriage, he enjoyed _that_ day's work, if no other. 

On a certain Saturday the girls saw Neale drive by early in the morningwith a handsome pair of young horses, drawing loam to a part of theParade ground which was to be re-seeded. The contractor had onlyrecently bought these young horses from the West, but he trusted Nealewith them, for he knew the boy was careful and seemed able to handlealmost any kind of a team. 

The Kenway sisters went shopping that afternoon as usual. The end ofMain Street near Blachstein and Mapes department store, and the UniqueCandy Store, and other shops that the sisters patronized, were filledwith shoppers. Milton was a busy town on Saturdays. 

Tess and Dot were crossing the street at Ralph Avenue when a shouting upMain Street made them turn to look that way. People in the streetscattered and certain vehicles were hastily driven out of the way of apair of horses that came charging down the middle of Main Street likemad. 

Ruth saw the danger of her younger sisters, and called to them from thedoorway of the drugstore. 

"Tess! Dot! Quick! Come here!"

But Agnes ran from across the street and hustled the smaller girls uponthe sidewalk. Then they could all give their attention to the runaway. 

Not until then did they realize that it was the team Neale O'Neil hadbeen driving. An auto horn had startled them at the Parade Ground, whileNeale was out of the wagon, and downtown they started. 

It seemed to the onlookers as though the team traveled faster everyblock! Nevertheless Neale had chased and overtaken the wagon not farbelow the old Corner House. 

He clambered over the tailboard and, as the wagon rocked from side toside and its noise spurred the maddened horses to greater speed, the boyplunged forward and climbed into the seat. 

The reins had been torn from the whipstock; they were dragging in thestreet. It looked for the moment as though Neale had risked his life fornothing. He could not halt the runaways!

Another boy might have failed, even after getting that far; but not"that circus boy"!

People along the street set up a shout when they beheld Neale O'Neilleap right down on the pole of the wagon and stretch out perilously toseize the reins at the hames. He had them and was back in the seatbefore the horses had run another block. 

As he passed Ralph Avenue where the Corner House girls stood, he hadlost his hat; his hair, which had grown long again, was blowing back inthe wind, and his white face was a mask of determination. 

"Oh! he'll be killed!" whispered Ruth. 

"He's going to stop them!" crowed Agnes, with assurance. 

And so Neale did. He stopped them as soon as he could get into the seat, brace his feet, and obtain a purchase on the lines. He knew how to breakthe horses' hold on the bits, and sawing at their mouths sharply, hesoon brought them to a stop. 

He tried to drive back to his work then without being accosted by thecrowd that quickly gathered. But the reporter from the _Post_ was righton the spot and the next morning a long article appeared on the frontpage of the paper about the runaway and about the youngster who hadplayed the hero. 

Because Neale refused to talk to the reporter himself, other people hadtalked for him, and quite a little romance about Neale was woven intothe story. Even the fact that he went by the nickname of "the circusboy" at school got into the story, and it was likewise told how he hadmade a high mark in gymnastics. 

Neale seemed terribly cut-up when the girls showed him the article inthe paper. "Why, " said Ruth, "you ought to be proud. "

"Of that tattling business?" snapped Neale. 

"No. Not so much that the paper speaks well of you, but because of yourability to do such a thing, " said the oldest Corner House girl. "Itisn't every boy that could do it. "

"I should hope not!" growled Neale, emphatically. "Let me tell you, " headded, angrily, "the reason I can do such things is the reason why I amsuch an ignorant fellow--and so far behind other chaps of my age. "

And that is the nearest Neale had ever come to saying anything directlyabout his old life. That it had been hard, and unpleasant, and that hehad been denied the benefits of schooling were about all the facts thegirls had gathered, even now. 

After that Neale seemed more afraid than ever of meeting somebody on thepublic streets. Agnes and Ruth knew that he never went out evenings, save to climb over the fence and come to the old Corner House. 

He was spending more time at his books, having earned a nice little sumduring the winter taking care of furnaces and shoveling paths. That workwas past now, and he said he had enough money to keep him comfortablyuntil the end of the school year. 

It was another Saturday. Neale had driven out into the country for aneighbor, but had promised to come to the old Corner House about fouro'clock. Almost always he took supper Saturday evening with the girls. Mrs. MacCall usually had fishcakes and baked beans, and Neale wasextravagantly fond of that homely New England combination. 

As it chanced, none of the four Kenways but Ruth went shopping thatafternoon. It was warm enough for Tess and Dot to have their dolls outin the summer-house. They had set up house-keeping there for the seasonand were very busy. 

Agnes had found a book that she enjoyed immensely, and she was wrappedup in an old coat and hidden in a crotch of the Baldwin appletree behindthe woodshed. She was so deeply absorbed that she did not wake to theclick of the gate-latch and did not realize there was a stranger in theyard until she heard a heavy boot on the brick walk. 

"Hello, my gal!" said a rough voice. "Ain't none of the folks to home?"

Agnes dropped the book and sprang down from the appletree in a hurry. There at the corner of the shed stood a man in varnished top boots, withspurs in the heels--great, cruel looking spurs--velveteen breeches, ashort, dirty white flannel coat, and a hard hat--something between astovepipe and a derby. Agnes realized that it was some kind of a ridingcostume that he wore, and he lashed his bootleg with his riding whip ashe talked. 

He was such a red-faced man, and he was so stout and rough looking, thatAgnes scarcely knew how to speak to him. She noted, too, that he had abig seal ring on one finger and that a heavy gold watchchain showedagainst his waistcoat where the short jacket was cut away. 

"Who--who are you?" Agnes managed to stammer at last. "And what do youwant?"

"Why, I'm Sorber, I am, " said the man. "Sorber, of Twomley & Sorber'sHerculean Circus and Menagerie. And my errand here is to git hold of achap that's run away from me and my partner. I hear he's in Milton, andI come over from our winter quarters, out o' which we're going to gitinstanter, Miss; and they tells me down to that newspaper office that Ikin find him here. 

"Now, Miss, where is that 'circus boy' as they call him? NealeSorber--that's his name. And I'm goin' to take him away with me. "

CHAPTER XXIII

TAMING A LION TAMER

Agnes was both frightened and angry as she listened to the man in thetopboots. He was such a coarse, rude fellow (or so she decided on theinstant) that she found herself fairly hating him!

Beside, she was well aware that he referred to Neale O'Neil. He had comefor Neale. He threatened to beat Neale with every snap of his heavyriding whip along the leg of his shiny boots. He was a beast!

That is what Agnes told herself. She was quick to jump at conclusions;but she was not quick to be disloyal to her friends. 

Nor was she frightened long; especially not when she was angry. Shewould not tremble before this man, and she gained complete control ofherself ere she spoke again. She was not going to deliver Neale O'Neilinto his hands by any mistake of speech--no, indeed!

The name of Twomley & Sorter's Herculean Circus and Menagerie struck acord of memory in Agnes' mind. It was one of the two shows that hadexhibited at Milton the season before. 

This man said that Neale had run away from this show. He claimed hisname was really Neale Sorber!

And all the time Neale had denied any knowledge of circuses. Or, _had_he done just that? Agnes' swift thought asked the question and answeredit. Neale had denied ever having attended a circus as a spectator. Thatmight easily be true!

Agnes' voice was quite unshaken as she said to the red-faced man: "Idon't think the person you are looking for is here, sir. "

"Oh, yes he is! can't fool me, " said the circus man, assuredly. "Youngscamp! He run away from his lawful guardeens and protectors. I'll showhim!" and he snapped the whiplash savagely again. 

"He sha'n't show him in _that_ way if I can help it, " thought Agnes. Butall she said aloud was: "There is no boy living here. "

"Heh? how's that, Miss?" said Sorber, suspiciously. 

Agnes repeated her statement. 

"But you know where he does hang out?" said Sorber, slily, "I'll bebound!"

"I don't know that I do, " Agnes retorted, desperately. "And if I didknow, I wouldn't tell you!"

The man struck his riding boot sharply again. "What's that? what'sthat?" he growled. 

Agnes' pluck was rising. "I'm not afraid of you--so there!" she said, bobbing her head at him. 

"Why, bless you, Miss!" ejaculated Sorber. "I should hope not. Iwouldn't hurt you for a farm Down East with a pig on it--no, Ma'am! Wekeep whips for the backs of runaways--not for pretty little ladies likeyou. "

"You wouldn't _dare_ beat Neale O'Neil!" gasped Agnes. 

"Ah-ha?" exclaimed the man. "'Neale O'Neil?' Then you do know him?"

Agnes was stricken dumb with apprehension. Her anger had betrayed Neale, she feared. 

"So that's what he calls himself, is it?" repeated Sorber. "O'Neil washis father's name. I didn't think he would remember. "

"We can't be talking about the same boy, " blurted out Agnes, trying tocover her "bad break. " "You say his name is Sorber. "

"Oh, he could take any name. I thought maybe he'd call himself'Jakeway. ' He was called 'Master Jakeway' on the bills and he'd oughterbe proud of the name. We had too many Sorbers in the show. Sorber, ringmaster and lion tamer--that's _me_, Miss. Sully Sorber, firstclown--that's my half brother, Miss. William Sorber is treasurer andticket seller--under bonds, Miss. He's my own brother. And--until a fewyears ago--there was Neale's mother. She was my own sister. "

Agnes had begun to be very curious. And while he was talking, the girlwas looking Sorber over for a second time. 

He was not all bad! Of that Agnes began to be sure. Yet he wanted tobeat Neale O'Neil for running away from a circus. 

To tell the truth, Agnes could scarcely understand how a boy could sodislike circus life as to really _want_ to run away from even Twomley &Sorber's Herculean Circus and Menagerie. There was a glitter and tinselto the circus that ever appealed to Agnes herself!

Personally Mr. Sorber lost none of his coarseness on longeracquaintance, but now Agnes noticed that there were humorous wrinklesabout his eyes, and an upward twist to the corners of his mouth. Shebelieved after all he might be good-natured. 

Could she help Neale in any way by being friendly with this man? Shecould try. There was a rustic bench under the Baldwin tree. 

"Won't you sit down, Mr. Sorber?" suggested Agnes, politely. 

"Don't care if I do, Miss, " declared the showman, and took an end of thebench, leaving the other end invitingly open, but Agnes leaned againstthe tree trunk and watched him. 

"A nice old place you've got here. They tell me it's called 'the OldCorner House. ' That's the way I was directed here. And so that rascal ofmine's been here all winter? Nice, soft spot he fell into. "

"It was I that came near falling, " said Agnes, gravely, "and it wasn't asoft spot at all under that tree. I'd have been hurt if it hadn't beenfor Neale. "

"Hel-_lo_!" exclaimed Neale's uncle, sharply. "What's this all about?That rascal been playin' the hero again? My, my! It ought to be a bigdrawin' card when we play this town in August. He always _was_ a goodnumber, as Master Jakeway in high and lofty tumbling; when he rodebareback; or doing the Joey----"

"The Joey?" repeated the girl, interested, but puzzled. 

"That's being a clown, Miss. He has doubled as clown and bareback whenwe was short of performers and having a hard season. "

"Our Neale?" gasped Agnes. 

"Humph! Dunno about his being _yours_, " said Sorber, with twinklingeyes. "He's mine, I reckon, by law. "

Agnes bit her lip. It made her angry to have Sorber talk so confidentlyabout his rights over poor Neale. 

"Let me tell you how he came here, " she said, after a moment, "and whathe's done since he came to Milton. "

"Fire away, Miss, " urged the showman, clasping his pudgy hands, on afinger of one of them showing the enormous seal ring. 

Agnes "began at the beginning, " for once. She did not really know whyshe did so, but she gave the particulars of all that had happened toNeale--as she knew them--since he had rushed in at that gate the man hadso lately entered and saved her from falling into the big peachtree bythe bedroom window. 

Mr. Sorber's comments as she went along, were characteristic. Sometimeshe chuckled and nodded, anon he scowled, and more than once he rappedhis bootleg soundly with the whip. 

"The little rascal!" he said at last. "And he could have stayed with us, hived up as us'al in the winter with only the critters to nuss and tend, and been sure of his three squares. 

"What does he rather do, but work and slave, and almost freeze andstarve--jest to git what, I ax ye?"

"An education, I guess, " said Agnes, mildly. 

"Huh!" grunted Sorber. Then he was silent; but after a while he said:"His father all over again. Jim O'Neil was a kid-gloved chap. If hecould have let drink alone, he never would have come down to us showpeople. 

"Huh! Well, my sister was as good as he was. And she stayed in thebusiness all her life. And what was good enough for Jim O'Neil's wifewas good enough for his kid--and is good enough to-day. Now I've gothim, and I'm a-going to lug him back--by the scruff of the neck, if needbe!"

Agnes felt her lip trembling. What should she do? If Neale came rightaway, this awful man would take him away--as he said--"by the scruff ofhis neck. "

And what would happen to poor Neale? What would ever become of him? AndMiss Georgiana was so proud of him. Mr. Marks had praised him. He wasgoing to graduate into high school in June----

"And he shall!" thought the Corner House girl with an inspireddetermination. "Somehow I'll find a way to tame this lion tamer--see ifI don't!"

"Well, Miss, you'd better perduce the villain, " chuckled Mr. Sorber. "Ifhe goes peaceable, we'll let bygones be bygones. He's my own sister'schild. And Twomley says for me not to come back without him. I tell ye, he's a drawin' card, and no mistake. "

"But, Mr. Sorber!" cried Agnes. "He wants to study so. "

"Shucks! I won't stop him. He's allus readin' his book. I ain't neverstopped him. Indeed, I've give him money many a time to buy a book whenI needed the chink myself for terbacker. "

"But----"

"And Twomley said I was doin' wrong. Less the boy learned, less he'd belike his father. And I expect Twomley's right. "

"What was the matter with Neale's father?" questioned Agnes, almostafraid that she was overstepping the bounds of decency in asking. Butcuriosity--and interest in Neale--urged her on. 

"He couldn't content himself in the show business. He was thehigh-tonedest ringmaster we ever had. I was only actin' the lions and aden of hyenas in them days. But I cut out the hyenas. You can't tamethem brutes, and a man's got to have eyes in the back of his head and inhis elbers, to watch 'em. 

"Well! Jim O'Neil was a good-looker, and the Molls buzzed round him likebees round a honey pot. My sister was one of them and I'll say himfair--Jim O'Neil never raised his hand to her. 

"But after the boy come he got restless. Said it was no life for a kid. Went off finally--to Klondike, or somewhere--to make his fortune. Neverheard of him since. Of course he's dead or he'd found us, for lemme tellyou, Miss, the repertation of Twomley & Sorber's Herculean Circus andMenagerie ain't a light hid under a bushel--by no manner o' means!"

Not if Mr. Sorber were allowed to advertise it, that was sure. But theman went on:

"So there you have it. Neale's mine. I'm his uncle. His mother told mewhen she was dying to look after him. And I'm a-going to. Now trot himout, Miss, " and Mr. Sorber mopped his bald brow under the jaunty stiffhat. He was quite breathless. 

"But I haven't him here, sir, " said Agnes. "He doesn't live here. "

"He ain't here?"

"No. He is living near. But he is not at home now. "

"Now, see here----"

"I never tell stories, " said Agnes, gravely. 

Mr. Sorber had the grace to blush. "I dunno as I doubt ye, Miss----"

"We expect Neale here about four o'clock. Before that my sister Ruthwill be at home. I want you to stay and see her, Mr. Sorber----"

"Sure I'll meet her, " said Mr. Sorber, warmly. "I don't care if I meetevery friend Neale's made in this man's town. But that don't make nodiffer. To the Twomley & Sorber tent show he belongs, and that's wherehe is a-goin' when I leave this here town to-night. "

CHAPTER XXIV

MR. MURPHY TAKES A HAND

Agnes Kenway was pretty near at her wit's end. She did not know how tohold Mr. Sorber, and she did not dare to let him go away from the house, for he might meet Neale O'Neil on the road and take him right away fromMilton. 

If Agnes could help it, she was determined that their friend Nealeshould not be obliged to leave town just as he was getting on so well. She wanted to consult Ruth. Ruth, she believed, would know just how tohandle this ticklish situation. 

Just then Tess and Dot appeared, taking a walk through the yard withtheir very best dolls. Naturally they were surprised to see Agnestalking in the backyard with a strange man, and both stopped, curiouslyeyeing Mr. Sorber. Dot's finger involuntarily sought the corner of hermouth. _That_ was a trick that she seemed never to grow out of. 

"Hello!" said Mr. Sorber, with rough joviality, "who are these littledames? Goin' to say how-de-do to old Bill Sorber?"

Tess, the literal, came forward with her hand outstretched. "How do youdo, Mr. Sorber, " she said. 

Dot was a little bashful. But Agnes, having a brilliant idea, said:

"This is Neale's uncle, Dot. Mr. Sorber has come here to see him. "

At that Dot came forward and put her morsel of hand into the showman'senormous fist. 

"You are very welcome, Neale's uncle, " she said, bashfully. "We thinkNeale is a very nice boy, and if we had a boy in our family we'd wantone just like Neale--wouldn't we, Tess?"

"Ye-es, " grudgingly admitted the older girl. "If we _had_ to have a boy. But, you know, Dot, we haven't _got_ to have one. "

Mr. Sorber chuckled. "Don't you think boys are any good, little lady?"he asked Tess. 

"Not so very much, " said the frank Tess. "Of course, Neale is different, sir. He--he can harness Billy Bumps, and--and he can turncartwheels--and--and he can climb trees--and--and do lots of thingsperfectly well. There aren't many boys like him. "

"I guess there ain't, " agreed Mr. Sorber. "And does he ever tell you howhe was took into the Lions' Den, like a little Dan'l, when he was two, with spangled pants on him and a sugar lollypop to keep him quiet?"

"Mercy!" gasped Agnes. 

"In a lions' den?" repeated Tess, while Dot's pretty eyes grew so roundthey looked like gooseberries. 

"Yes, Ma'am! I done it. And it made a hit. But the perlice stopped it. Them perlice, " said Mr. Sorber, confidentially, "are allus butting inwhere they ain't wanted. "

"Like Billy Bumps, " murmured Dot. 

But Tess had struck a new line of thought and she wanted to follow itup. "Please, sir, " she asked, "is that your business?"

"What's my business?"

"Going into lions' dens?"

"That's it. I'm a lion tamer, I am. And that's what I wanted to bring mynevvy up to, only his mother kicked over the traces and wouldn't haveit. "

"My!" murmured Tess. "It must be a very int'resting business. Do--do thelions ever bite?"

"They chews their food reg'lar, " said Mr. Sorber gravely, but his eyestwinkled. "But none of 'em's ever tried to chew me. I reckon I lookpurty tough to 'em. "

"And Neale's been in a den of lions and never told us about it?" gaspedAgnes, in spite of herself carried away with the romantic side of theshow business again. 

"Didn't he ever?"

"He never told us he was with a circus at all, " confessed Agnes. "He wasafraid of being sent back, I suppose. "

"And ain't he ever blowed about it to the boys?"

"Oh, no! He hasn't even told the school principal--or the man he liveswith--or Ruth--or _anybody_, " declared Agnes. 

Mr. Sorber looked really amazed. He mopped his bald crown again and thecolor in his face deepened. 

"Why, whizzle take me!" ejaculated the showman, in surprise, "he'sashamed of us!"

Tess's kindly little heart came to the rescue immediately. "Oh, hecouldn't be ashamed of his uncle, sir, " she said. "And Neale is, really, a very nice boy. He would not be ashamed of any of his relations. No, sir. "

"Well, mebbe not, " grumbled Mr. Sorber; "but it looks mightily like it. "

Despite the roughness and uncouth manner of the man, the children "gotunder his skin" as the saying is. Soon Tess and Dot bore the old showmanoff to the summer-house to introduce him to their entire family. 

At that moment Ruth arrived--to Agnes' vast relief. 

"Oh, Ruthie!" the second Corner House girl gasped. "It's come!"

"What's come?" asked Ruth, in amazement. 

"What Mr. Con Murphy said would happen some day. It's all out aboutNeale----Poor Neale! The dam's busted!"

It was several minutes before Ruth could get any clear account from hersister of what had happened. But when she _did_ finally get into thestory, Agnes told it lucidly--and she held Ruth's undivided attention, the reader may be sure. 

"Poor Neale indeed!" murmured Ruth. 

"What can we do?" demanded Agnes. 

"I don't know. But surely, there must be some way out. I--I'll telephoneto Mr. Howbridge. "

"Oh, Ruthie! I never thought of that, " squealed Agnes. "But supposeNeale comes before you can get Mr. Howbridge here?"

Ruth put on her thinking cap. "I tell you, " she said. "Introduce me toMr. Sorber. Get him to promise to stay to supper with Neale. That willgive us time. "

This plot was carried out. Ruth saw Mr. Sorber, too, under a much morefavorable light. Dolls were much too tame for Dot and Tess, when theyrealized that they had a real live lion tamer in their clutches. So theyhad Mr. Sorber down on a seat in the corner of the summer-house, and hewas explaining to them just how the lions looked, and acted--even howthey roared. 

"It's lots more int'resting than going to the circus to see them, " Dotsaid, reflectively. "For _then_ you're so scared of them that you can'tremember how they look. But Mr. Sorber is a perfectly _safe_ lion. He'seven got false teeth. He told us so. "

Mr. Sorber could scarcely refuse Ruth's invitation. He was muchimpressed by the appearance of the oldest Corner House girl. 

"I reckon that rascally nevvy of mine has been playin' in great lucksince he run away from Twomley & Sorber's Herculean Circus andMenagerie. Shouldn't blame him if he wanted to stay on. I'd wantermyself. Pleased to meet you, Miss. "

Ruth hurried to the nearest telephone and called up the lawyer's office. She was not much surprised to find that he was not there, it beingSaturday afternoon. 

So then she called up the house where he lived. After some trouble shelearned that her guardian had left town for over Sunday. She was toldwhere he had gone; but Ruth did not feel it would be right to disturbhim at a distance about Neale's affairs. 

"Whom shall I turn to for help?" thought Ruth. "Who will advise us?Above all, who will stop this man Sorber from taking Neale away?"

She had a reckless idea of trying to meet Neale on the road and warnhim. He could hide--until Mr. Howbridge got back, at least. 

Perhaps she could catch Neale at the cobbler's house. And then, atthought of the queer little old Irishman, all Ruth's worry seemed toevaporate. Mr. Con Murphy was the man to attend to this matter. And tothe cobbler's little cottage she immediately made her way. 

The story she told the little Irishman made him drop the shoe he was atwork upon and glare at her over his spectacles, and with his scantreddish hair ruffled up. This, with his whiskers, made him look like awrathful cockatoo. 

"Phat's that?" he cried, at last. "Take Neale O'Neil to a dirthycircus-show and make him do thricks, like a thrained pig, or a goose, ora--a--a naygur man from the Sahara Desert? NOT MUCH, SAYS CON!"

He leaped up and tore off his leather apron. 

"The ormadhoun! I'd like a brush wid him, mesilf. Con Murphy takes ahand in this game. We nade no lawyer-body--not yit. Lave it to me, MissRuthie, acushla! Sure I'll invite mesilf to supper wid youse, too. I'llcome wid Neale, and he shall be prepared beforehand. Be sure he comeshere first. Never weep a tear, me dear. I'll fix thim circus people. "

"Oh, Mr. Murphy! can you help us? Are you sure?" cried Ruth. 

"Never fear! never fear!" returned the cobbler. "Lave it to me. Whin ConMurphy takes a hand in any game, he knows what he's about. And there'smore than two sides to this mather, Miss Ruth. Belike thim fellers wantNeale for the money he makes for them. Hear me, now! Before I'd lit thimtake him back to that show, I'd spind ivry penny I've got buried in theould sock in--Well, niver mind where, " concluded the excited cobbler. 

But where was Ruth to find Neale O'Neil? That was the question thatfaced the oldest Corner House girl as she turned away from the door ofthe little cobbler's shop. She feared right now that the boy might havereturned to town and stopped at the Corner House to give the children aride before returning to the stable the horses he drove. 

For Neale O'Neil was very fond of Tess and Dot and never missed a chanceof giving them pleasure. Although Ruth Kenway professed no high regardfor boys of any description--with Tess, she felt thankful there werenone "in the family"--she had to admit that the boy who had run awayfrom the circus was proving himself a good friend and companion. 

Many of the good times the Corner House girls had enjoyed during thefall and winter just past, would have been impossible without Neale'sassistance. He had been Agnes' and her own faithful cavalier at alltimes and seasons. His secret--that which had borne so heavily upon hisheart--had sometimes made Ruth doubtful of him; but now that the truthwas out, he had only the girl's sympathy and full regard. 

"He sha'n't go back!" she told herself, as she hurried around the cornerinto Willow Street. "This horrid circus man shall not take him back. Oh!if Mr. Murphy can only do all that he says he can--"

Her heart had fallen greatly, once she was out from under the magnetismof the old cobbler's glistening eye. Mr. Sorber was such a big, determined, red-faced man! How could the little cobbler overcome such anopponent! He was another David against a monster Goliath. 

And so Ruth's former idea returned to her. Neale must be stopped! Hemust be warned before he returned from the drive he had taken into thecountry, and before running right into the arms of his uncle. 

This determination she arrived at before she reached the side gate ofthe Old Corner House premises. She called Agnes, and left the twoyounger children to play hostesses and amuse the guest. 

"He mustn't suspect--he mustn't know, " she whispered to Agnes, hurriedly. "You go one way, Aggie, and I'll go the other. Neale mustreturn by either the Old Ridge Road or Ralph Avenue. Which one will youtake?"

Agnes was just as excited as her older sister. "I'll go up Ral-RalphAvenue, Ru-Ruth!" she gasped. "Oh! It will be dreadful if that awfulSorber takes away our Neale----"

"He sha'n't!" declared the older girl, starting off at once for the OldRidge Road. 

They had said nothing to Mrs. MacCall about the coming of Mr. Sorber--not even to tell the good housekeeper of the Old Corner Housethat she would have company at supper. But Mrs. MacCall found that outherself. 

Finding Tess and Dot remarkably quiet in the garden, and for a muchlonger time than usual, Mrs. MacCall ventured forth to see what hadhappened to the little girls. She came to the summer-house in time tohear the following remarkable narrative:

"Why, ye see how it was, little ladies, ye see how it was. I saw thefolks in that town didn't like us--not a little bit. Some country folks_don't_ like circus people. "

"I wonder why?" asked Tess, breathlessly. 

"Don't know, don't know, " said Mr. Sorber. "Just born with a nateral_hate_ for us, I guess. Anyway, I seen there was likely to be a bigclem--that's what we say for 'fight' in the show business--and I didn'tget far from the lions--no, ma'am!"

"Were you afraid some of the bad men might hurt your lions, sir?" askedDot, with anxiety. 

"You can't never tell what a man that's mad is going to do, " admittedthe old showman, seriously. "I wasn't going to take any chances with'em. About a wild animal you can tell. But mad folks are different!

"So I kept near the lion den; and when the row broke out and the roughsfrom the town began to fight our razorbacks--them's our pole- andcanvas-men, " explained Mr. Sorber, parenthetically, "I popped me rightinto the cage--yes, ma'am!

"Old Doublepaws and the Rajah was some nervous, and was traveling backand forth before the bars. They was disturbed by the racket. But theyknowed me, and I felt a whole lot safer than I would have outside. 

"'The show's a fake!' was what those roughs was crying. 'We want ourmoney back!' But that was a wicked story, " added Mr. Sorber, earnestly. "We was giving them a _big_ show for their money. We had a sacred cow, awhite elephant, and a Wild Man of Borneo that you couldn't have toldfrom the real thing--he was dumb, poor fellow, and so the sounds he madewhen they prodded him sounded just as wild as wild could be!

"But you can't satisfy _some_ folks, " declared Mr. Sorber, warmly. "Andthere those roughs was shouting for their money. As I was telling you, Idoubled, selling tickets and putting the lions through their paces. I'dtaken the cashbox with me when I run for cover at the beginning of thetrouble, and I'd brought it into the lions' cage with me. 

"Twomley tried to pacify the gang, but it was no use. They were going totear the big top down. That's the main tent, little ladies. 

"So I knocks Old Doublepaws and Rajah aside--they was tame as kittens, but roared awful savage when I hit 'em--and I sings out:

"'Here's your money, ladies and gentlemen. Them that wants theirs backplease enter the cage. One at a time, and no crowding, gents----' Haw!haw! haw!" exploded the showman. "And how many do you suppose of themfarmers come after their money? Not one, little ladies! not one!"

"So the lions saved your money for you?" quoth Tess, agreeably. "That'smost int'resting--isn't it, Dot?"

"I--I wouldn't ever expect them to be so kind from the way they roar, "announced the littlest Corner House girl, honestly. She had a vividremembrance of the big cats that she had seen in the circus the previoussummer. 

"They're like folks--to a degree, " said Mr. Sorber, soberly. "Some menis all gruff and bluff, but tender at heart. So's--Why, how-d'ye-do, ma'am!" he said, getting up and bowing to Mrs. MacCall, whom he justsaw. "I hope I see you well?"

The housekeeper was rather amazed--as well she might have been; butTess, who had a good, memory, introduced the old showman quite as amatter of course. 

"This is Neale's uncle, Mrs. MacCall, " she said. "Neale doesn't know heis here yet; but Ruthie has asked him to stay to supper----"

"With your permission, ma'am, " said Mr. Sorber, with another flourish ofhis hat. 

"Oh, to be sure, " agreed the housekeeper. 

"And Neale runned away from a circus when he came here, " said theround-eyed Dot. 

"No!" gasped the housekeeper. 

"Yes, Mrs. MacCall, " Tess hurried on to say. "And he used to be a clown, and an acrobat, and----"

"And a lion in a Daniel's den!" interposed Dot, afraid that Tess wouldtell it all. "Did you _ever_?"

And Mrs. MacCall was sure she never had!

Meanwhile Ruth and Agnes had run their separate ways. It was Agnes whowas fortunate in meeting the carriage driven by Neale O'Neil. The boywas alone, and the moment he saw the panting girl he drew in his horses. He knew something of moment had happened. 

"What's brought you 'way out here, Aggie?" he demanded, turning thewheel so that she might climb in beside him. His passengers had beenleft in the country and he was to drive back for them late in theevening. 

"It--it's _you_, Neale!" burst out Agnes, almost crying. 

"What's the matter with me?" demanded the boy, in wonder. 

"What you've been expecting has happened. Oh dear, Neale! whatever shallwe do? Your Uncle Sorber's come for you. "

The boy pulled in his team with a frightened jerk, and for a momentAgnes thought he was going to jump from the carriage. She laid a handupon his arm. 

"But we're not going to let him take you away, Neale! Oh, we won't! Ruthsays we must hide you--somewhere. She's gone out the Old Ridge Road tomeet you. "

"She'll get lost out that way, " said the boy, suddenly. "She's neverbeen over that way, has she?"

"Never mind--Ruth, " Agnes said. "It's you we're thinking of----"

"We'll drive around and get Ruth, " Neale said, decisively, and he beganto turn the horses. 

"Oh, Neale!" groaned Agnes. "What an _awful_ man your uncle must be. Hesays he used to put you in a cage full of lions----"

Neale O'Neil suddenly began to laugh. Agnes looked at him in surprise. For a moment--as she told Ruth afterward--she was afraid that the shockof what she had told him about Mr. Sorber's appearance, had "sort ofturned his brain. "

"Why, Neale!" she exclaimed. 

"Those poor, old, toothless, mangy beasts, " chuckled Neale. "They had tobe poked up half an hour before the crowd came in, or they wouldn't acttheir part at all. And half the time when the crowd thought the lionswere opening their mouths savagely, they were merely yawning. "

"Don't!" gasped Agnes. "You'll spoil every menagerie I ever see if youkeep talking that way. "

The laugh seemed to bring Neale back to a better mind. He sighed andthen shrugged his shoulders. "We'll find Ruth, " he said, withdetermination, "and then drive home. I'll see what Mr. Murphy says, andthen see Mr. Sorber. "

"But he's come to take you away, Neale!" cried Agnes. 

"What good will it do for me to run? He knows I'm here, " said the boy, hopelessly. "It would spoil my chance at school if I hid out somewhere. No; I've got to face him. I might as well do so now. "

CHAPTER XXV

A BRIGHT FUTURE

That Saturday night supper at the old Corner House was rather differentfrom any that had preceded it. Frequently the Corner House girls hadcompany at this particular meal--almost always Neale, and Mr. Con Murphyhad been in before. 

Once Miss Shipman, Agnes' and Neale's teacher, had come as the guest ofhonor; and more than once Mr. Howbridge had passed his dish for a secondhelping of Mrs. MacCall's famous beans. 

It was an elastic table, anyway, that table of the Corner House girls. It was of a real cozy size when the family was alone. Mrs. MacCall satnearest the swing-door into the butler's pantry, although Uncle Rufuswould seldom hear to the housekeeper going into the kitchen after shehad once seated herself at the table. 

She always put on a clean apron and cap. At the other end of the tablewas Aunt Sarah's place. No matter how grim and speechless Aunt Sarahmight be, she could not glare Mrs. MacCall out of countenance, so thatarrangement was very satisfactory. 

The four girls had their seats, two on either side. The guests, whenthey had them, were placed between the girls on either side, and thetable was gradually drawn out, and leaves added, to suit thecircumstances. 

Neale always sat between Tess and Dot. He did so to-night. But besidehim was the Irish cobbler. Opposite was the stout and glowing Mr. Sorber, prepared to do destruction to Mrs. MacCall's viands first ofall, and then to destroy Neale's hopes of an education afterward. 

At least, he had thus far admitted no change of heart. He had met Nealewith rough cordiality, but he had stated his intention as irrevocablethat he would take the boy back to the circus. 

Tess and Dot were almost horrified when they came to understand thattheir friend the lion tamer proposed to take Neale away. They could notunderstand such an evidently kind-hearted tamer of wild beasts doingsuch a cruel thing!

"I guess he's only fooling, " Tess confided to Dot, and the latter agreedwith several nods, her mouth being too full for utterance, if her heartwas not. 

"These beans, " declared Mr. Sorber, passing his plate a third time, "arefit for a king to eat, and the fishcakes ought to make any fish proud tobe used up in that manner. I never eat better, Ma'am!"

"I presume you traveling people have to take many meals haphazardly, "suggested Mrs. MacCall. 

"Not much. My provender, " said Mr. Sorber, "is one thing that I'm mightyparticular about. I feeds my lions first; then Bill Sorber's next bestfriend is his own stomach--yes, Ma'am!

"The cook tent and the cooks go ahead of the show. For instance, rightafter supper the tent is struck and packed, and if we're traveling byrail, it goes right aboard the first flat. If we go by road, that teamgets off right away and when we catch up to it in the morning, it'susually set up on the next camping ground and the coffee is a-biling. 

"It ain't no easy life we live; but it ain't no dog's life, neither. Andhow a smart, bright boy like this here nevvy of mine should want to runaway from it----"

"Did ye iver think, sir, " interposed the cobbler, softly, "that mebbethere was implanted in the la-ad desires for things ye know nothin' of?"

"Huh!" grunted Sorber, balancing a mouthful of beans on his knife to theamazement of Dot, who had seldom seen any person eat with his knife. 

"Lit me speak plainly, for 'tis a plain man I am, " said the Irishman. "This boy whom ye call nephew----?"

"And he is, " Sorber said. 

"Aye. But he has another side to him that has no Sorber to it. 'Tis theO'Neil side. It's what has set him at his books till he is the foinestscholar in the Milton Schools, bar none. Mr. Marks told me himself 'twasso. "

This surprised Neale and the girls for they had not known how deep wasthe Irishman's interest in his prot�g�. 

"He's only half a Sorber, sir. Ye grant that?"

"But he's been with the show since he was born, " growled the showman. "Why shouldn't he want to be a showman, too? All the Sorbers have been, since away back. I was thinkin' of changing his name by law so as tohave him in the family in earnest. "

"I'll never own to any name but my own again, " declared Neale, fromacross the table. 

"That's your answer, Mr. Sorber, " declared Murphy, earnestly. "The boywants to go his own way--and that's the way of his fathers, belike. ButI'm a fair man. I can see 'tis a loss to you if Neale stays here andgoes to school. "

"I guess it is, Mister, " said the showman, rather belligerently. "And Iguess you don't know how much of a loss. "

"Well, " said the cobbler, coolly. "Put a figure to it. How much?"

"How much _what_?" demanded Mr. Sorber, bending his brows upon theIrishman, while the children waited breathlessly. 

"Money. Neale's a big drawin' kyard ye say yerself. Then, how much moneywill ye take for your right to him?"

Mr. Sorber laid down his knife and fork and stared at Mr. Murphy. 

"Do you mean that, sir?" he asked, with strange quietness. 

"Do I mean am I willin' to pay the bye out of yer clutches?" demandedthe cobbler, with growing heat. "'Deed and I am! and if my pile isn'tbig enough, mebbe I kin find good friends of Neale O'Neil in this townthat'll be glad to chip in wid me and give the bye his chance. 

"I've been layin' a bit av money by, from year to year--God knows why!for I haven't chick nor child in the wor-r-rld. Save the bit to kape mefrom the potter's field and to pay for sayin' a mass for me sowl, whatdo the likes of _me_ want wid hoardin' gold and silver?

"I'll buy a boy. I have no son of me own. I'll see if Neale shall not dome proud in the years to come--God bliss the bye!"

He seized the boy's hand and wrung it hard. "Oh, Mr. Murphy!" murmuredNeale O'Neil and returned the pressure of the cobbler's work-hardenedpalm. 

But Agnes got up and ran around the table and hugged him! "You--you arethe dearest old man who ever lived, Mr. Murphy!" she sobbed, andimplanted a tearful kiss right upon the top of the cobbler's little snubnose!

"Huh!" grunted Mr. Sorber. Then he said "Huh!" again. Finally he burstout with: "Say, young lady, ain't you going to pass around some of thosekisses? Don't _I_ get one?"

"What?" cried Agnes, turning in a fury. "_Me_ kiss _you_?"

"Sure. Why not?" asked the showman. "You don't suppose that man sittingthere is the only generous man in the world, do you? Why, bless yourheart! I want Neale back bad enough. And he _does_ make us a tidy bit ofmoney each season--and some of _that's_ to his credit in the bank--I'veseen to it myself. 

"He's my own sister's boy. I--I used to play with him when he was alittle bit of a feller--don't you remember them times, Neale?"

"Yes, sir, " said the boy, with hanging head. "But I'm too big for playnow. I want to learn--I want to know. "

Mr. Sorber looked at him a long time. He had stopped eating, and haddropped the napkin which he had tucked under his chin. Finally he blew abig sigh. 

"Well, Mr. Murphy, " he said. "Put up your money. You've not enough to_buy_ the boy, no matter how much you have laid away. But if he feelsthat way----

"Well, what the Old Scratch I'll say to Twomley I don't know. But I'llleave the boy in your care. I'm stickin' by my rights, though. If he's abig success in this world, part of it'll be due to the way I trained himwhen he was little. There's no doubt of that. "

 * * * * *

So, that is the way it came about that Neale O'Neil remained at schoolin Milton and lost the "black dog of trouble" that had for monthshaunted his footsteps. 

The Corner House girls were delighted at the outcome of the affair. 

"If we grow to be as old as Mrs. Methuselah, " declared Agnes, "we'llnever be so happy as we are over this thing. "

But, of course, that is an overstatement of the case. It was only a fewweeks ahead that Agnes would declare herself surfeited with happinessagain--and my readers may learn the reason why if they read the nextvolume of this series, entitled "The Corner House Girls Under Canvas. "

But this settlement of Neale's present affairs was really a very greatoccasion. Mr. Sorber and Mr. Con Murphy shook hands on the agreement. Mrs. MacCall wiped her eyes, declaring that "such goings-on wrung thetears out o' her jest like water out of a dishclout!"

What Aunt Sarah said was to the point, and typical: "For the marcy'ssake! I never did see thet boys was either useful enough, or ornamentalenough, to make such a fuss over 'em!"

Uncle Rufus, hovering on the outskirts of the family party, grinnedhugely upon Neale O'Neil. "Yo' is sho' 'nuff too good a w'ite boy tuh bemade tuh dance an' frolic in no circus show--naw-zer! I's moughty gladyo's got yo' freedom. "

Neale, too, was glad. The four Corner House girls got around him, joinedhands, and danced a dance of rejoicing in the big front hall. 

"And now you need not be afraid of what's going to happen to you all thetime, " said Ruth, warmly. 

"Oh, Neale! you'll tell us all about what happened to you in the circus, won't you, now?" begged Agnes. 

"Will you please show me how to do cartwheels, Neale?" asked Tess, gravely. "I've always admired seeing boys do them. "

But Dot capped the climax--as usual. "Neale, " she said, with seriousmien a day or two after, "if that circus comes to town this summer, willyou show us how you played Little Daniel in the Lions' Den? I shouldthink _that_ would be real int'resting--and awfully religious!"

THE END

 * * * * *

This Isn't All!

Would you like to know what became of the good friends you have made inthis book?

Would you like to read other stories continuing their adventures andexperiences, or other books quite as entertaining by the same author?

On the _reverse side_ of the wrapper which comes with this book, youwill find a wonderful list of stories which you can buy at the samestore where you got this book. 

_Don't throw away the Wrapper_

_Use it as a handy catalog of the books you want some day to have. Butin case you do mislay it, write to the Publishers for a completecatalog_. 

THE BLYTHE GIRLS BOOKS

By LAURA LEE HOPEAuthor of The Outdoor Girls Series

Illustrated by Thelma Gooch

The Blythe Girls, three in number, were left alone in New York City. Helen, who went in for art and music, kept the little flat uptown, whileMargy, just out of business school, obtained a position as secretary andRose, plain-spoken and business like, took what she called a "job" in adepartment store. The experiences of these girls make fascinatingreading--life in the great metropolis is thrilling and full of strangeadventures and surprises. 

 THE BLYTHE GIRLS: HELEN, MARGY AND ROSE THE BLYTHE GIRLS: MARGY'S QUEER INHERITANCE THE BLYTHE GIRLS: ROSE'S GREAT PROBLEM THE BLYTHE GIRLS: HELEN'S STRANGE BOARDER THE BLYTHE GIRLS: THREE ON A VACATION THE BLYTHE GIRLS: MARGY'S SECRET MISSION THE BLYTHE GIRLS: ROSE'S ODD DISCOVERY THE BLYTHE GIRLS: THE DISAPPEARANCE OF HELEN THE BLYTHE GIRLS: SNOWBOUND IN CAMP THE BLYTHE GIRLS: MARGY'S MYSTERIOUS VISITOR THE BLYTHE GIRLS: ROSE'S HIDDEN TALENT THE BLYTHE GIRLS: HELEN'S WONDERFUL MISTAKE

FOR HER MAJESTY--THE GIRL OF TODAY

THE POLLY BREWSTER BOOKSBy Lillian Elizabeth Roy

Polly and Eleanor have many interesting adventures on their travelswhich take them to all corners of the globe. 

 POLLY OF PEBBLY PIT POLLY AND ELEANOR POLLY IN NEW YORK POLLY AND HER FRIENDS ABROAD POLLY'S BUSINESS VENTURE POLLY'S SOUTHERN CRUISE POLLY IN SOUTH AMERICA POLLY IN THE SOUTHWEST POLLY IN ALASKA POLLY IN THE ORIENT POLLY IN EGYPT POLLY'S NEW FRIEND POLLY AND CAROLA POLLY AND CAROLA AT RAVENSWOOD POLLY LEARNS TO FLY

THE LILIAN GARIS BOOKS

Illustrated. Every volume complete in itself. 

Among her "fan" letters Lilian Garis receives some flatteringtestimonials of her girl readers' interest in her stories. From a classof thirty comes a vote of twenty-five naming her as their favoriteauthor. Perhaps it is the element of live mystery that Mrs. Garis alwaysbuilds her stories upon, or perhaps it is because the girls easily cantranslate her own sincere interest in themselves from the stories. Atany rate her books prosper through the changing conditions of thesetimes, giving pleasure, satisfaction, and, incidentally, that tactfulword of inspiration, so important in literature for young girls. Mrs. Garis prefers to call her books "juvenile novels" and in them romance isnever lacking. 

 SALLY FOR SHORT SALLY FOUND OUT A GIRL CALLED TED TED AND TONY, TWO GIRLS OF TODAY CLEO'S MISTY RAINBOW CLEO'S CONQUEST BARBARA HALE BARBARA HALE'S MYSTERY FRIEND (Formerly Barbara Hale and Cozette) NANCY BRANDON NANCY BRANDON'S MYSTERY CONNIE LORING (Formerly Connie Loring's Dilemma) CONNIE LORING'S GYPSY FRIEND (Formerly Connie Loring's Ambition) JOAN: JUST GIRL JOAN'S GARDEN OF ADVENTURE GLORIA: A GIRL AND HER DAD GLORIA AT BOARDING SCHOOL

CAROLYN WELLS BOOKS

THE PATTY BOOKS

Patty is a lovable girl whose frank good nature and beauty lend charm toher varied adventures. These stories are packed with excitement andinterest for girls. 

 PATTY FAIRFIELD PATTY AT HOME PATTY IN THE CITY PATTY'S SUMMER DAYS PATTY IN PARIS PATTY'S FRIENDS PATTY'S PLEASURE TRIP PATTY'S SUCCESS PATTY'S MOTOR CAR PATTY'S BUTTERFLY DAYS

THE MARJORIE BOOKS

Marjorie is a happy little girl of twelve, up to mischief, but full ofgoodness and sincerity. In her and her friends every girl reader willsee much of her own love of fun, play and adventure. 

 MARJORIE'S VACATION MARJORIE'S BUSY DAYS MARJORIE'S NEW FRIEND MARJORIE IN COMMAND MARJORIE'S MAYTIME MARJORIE AT SEACOTE

THE TWO LITTLE WOMEN SERIES

Introducing Dorinda Fayre--a pretty blonde, sweet, serious, timid and alittle slow, and Dorothy Rose--a sparkling brunette, quick, elf-like, high tempered, full of mischief and always getting into scrapes. 

 TWO LITTLE WOMEN TWO LITTLE WOMEN AND TREASURE HOUSE TWO LITTLE WOMEN ON A HOLIDAY

THE DICK AND DOLLY BOOKS

Dick and Dolly are brother and sister, and their games, their pranks, their joys and sorrows, are told in a manner which makes the stories"really true" to young readers. 

 DICK AND DOLLY DICK AND DOLLY'S ADVENTURES

THE NANCY DREW MYSTERY STORIES

By CAROLYN KEENE

Here is a thrilling series of mystery stories for girls. Nancy Drew, ingenious, alert, is the daughter of a famous criminal lawyer and sheherself is deeply interested in his mystery cases. Her interest involvesher often in some very dangerous and exciting situations. 

THE SECRET OF THE OLD CLOCK

Nancy, unaided, seeks to locate a missing will and finds herself in themidst of adventure. 

THE HIDDEN STAIRCASE

Mysterious happenings in an old stone mansion lead to an investigationby Nancy. 

THE BUNGALOW MYSTERY

Nancy has some perilous experiences around a deserted bungalow. 

THE MYSTERY AT LILAC INN

Quick thinking and quick action were needed for Nancy to extricateherself from a dangerous situation. 

THE SECRET AT SHADOW RANCH

On a vacation in Arizona Nancy uncovers an old mystery and solves it. 

THE SECRET OF RED GATE FARM

Nancy exposes the doings of a secret society on an isolated farm. 

THE CLUE IN THE DIARY

A fascinating and exciting story of a search for a clue to a surprisingmystery. 

NANCY'S MYSTERIOUS LETTER

Nancy receives a letter informing her that she is heir to a fortune. This story tells of her search for another Nancy Drew.