THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES 
 
 GIFT OF 
 
 MABEL R. QILLIS 
 
 h
 
 f- 
 
 ff-L.
 
 AT THE PARTY.
 
 EUNICE AND CRICKET 
 
 BY 
 
 ELIZABETH WESTYN TIMLOW 
 
 AUTHOR OF 
 
 " CRICKET : A STORY FOR LITTLE GIRLS," 
 "CRICKET AT THE SEASHORE" 
 
 ElostrateU bg 
 HARRIET R. RICHARDS 
 
 BOSTON 
 ESTES AND LAURIAT 
 
 PUBLISHERS
 
 Copyright, i8<fl 
 BY ESTES & LAURIAT 
 
 Colonial 
 
 Electrotyped and Printed by C. H. Slmonds & Co. 
 Boston, Mass., U.S.A.
 
 fiZ-7 
 
 TO 
 ELMA AND SYLVIA 
 
 AND 
 THE GOAT 
 
 577497
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER PAGE 
 
 I. Two AMATEUR PHOTOGRAPHERS . 11 
 
 II. A DISCOVERY IN FILMS ... 25 
 
 III. A MUMPFUL " PARTY ... 37 
 
 IV. IN QUARANTINE 59 
 
 V. AN UNEXPECTED VISITOR G8 
 
 VI. A PHILANTHROPIC SCHEME . . .8:? 
 
 VII. MOSINA 99 
 
 VIII. A BEDFELLOW 110 
 
 IX. CHRISTMAS HOLIDAYS .... 120 
 
 X. THE BOY 139 
 
 XI. A VISIT TO MOSINA .... 152 
 
 XII. KEEPING HOUSE 165 
 
 XIII. THE DIAMOND RING . . . .187 
 
 XIV. SCHOOL THEATRICALS . . . .211 
 XV. A DAY IN THE NURSERY . . .234 
 
 XVI. A GOAT EPISODE 253 
 
 XVII. A SCRAPE 268 
 
 XVIII. AN EXPEDITION 279 
 
 XIX. THE RESULT. ' 292 
 
 XX. OLD MR. CHESTER . . . .299 
 
 XXI. BREAKING UP . 307
 
 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 AT THE PARTY Frontispiece 
 
 GETTING READY FOR THE PARTY ... 49 
 
 AN UNEXPECTED VISITOR 79 
 
 THE LOST BABY. . . . . . .85 
 
 KEEPING HOUSE ....... 173 
 
 THE DIAMOND RING 191 
 
 IN THE NURSERY 239 
 
 A SUDDEN DOWNFALL . - . . . . 259
 
 EUNICE AND CRICKET
 
 EUNICE AND CRICKET. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 TWO AMATEUR PHOTOGRAPHERS. 
 
 Two eager heads bent over a small, square, 
 black object that stood on the stone post at the 
 foot of the doorsteps. 
 
 " ' Hold the camera steady and push the 
 lever,' " read the brown-eyed girl with the long, 
 dark braid, from the little pamphlet she held in 
 her hand. " Look down in the little round 
 hole, Cricket ; you can see the picture perfectly. 
 Isn't it the cutest thing ? " 
 
 Cricket squinted down critically. 
 
 " It's going to be perfectly jolly" she cried 
 enthusiastically. " Now stand still as mice, 
 children, while I count three." 
 
 " Stand still as a mice, Helen," immediately 
 admonished the small girl in the dark red coat, 
 giving a great pinch to the little golden-haired,
 
 12 EUNICE AND CRICKET. 
 
 brown-clad lassie who stood beside her, by way 
 of emphasising her older sister's words. " Stand 
 still as a mice, Johnnie-goat," giving the third 
 member of the group a tickle on the back that 
 made him drop his curved horns for more. 
 
 " Keep still < as a mice,' yourself," said Cricket, 
 tapping Miss Red-coat briskly on the head. "All 
 ready, Eunice. ' You push the button, and we'll 
 do the rest,'" she quoted, clapping her hands 
 in her favourite fashion. " Hooray ! there she 
 goes ! Oh, I hope it will be good ! That's all, 
 Zaidie and Helen. You stood beautifully. Run 
 along now. Can't you go around to the stable 
 and take Johnnie-goat back, 'Liza ? " 
 
 Eunice swept the trio a low bow. 
 
 "Thank you, Mr. Johnnie-goat, for standing 
 still so long," she said, addressing the horned 
 member of the party. "I hope your picture 
 will be very good," she added, picking up the 
 camera with a highly professional air. 
 
 " Take me again," demanded Zaidie instantly, 
 when Cricket told her once more that they were 
 through with this wonderful process, and that 
 they might go. "I like having my picture 
 tooken. Don't you, Helen ? Let's sit on John- 
 nie-goat, and be tooken again," and Zaidie tried
 
 TWO AMATEUR PHOTOGRAPHERS. 13 
 
 to climb upon the goat's white back. This, 
 however, was a familiarity which Johnnie could 
 not think of permitting, even from his best 
 friends. He instantly sidled off, not wishing 
 to hurt her feelings by a direct butt. Zaidie 
 unexpectedly sat down on the ground. 
 
 " No, we don't want any more pictures of you 
 now, thank you," said Eunice, examining her 
 Kodak, while Zaidie demanded a view of the one 
 already taken. 
 
 " She thinks it's like putting a penny in the 
 slot and a picture drops out. This isn't that 
 kind, my dear. There's a lot of hard, hard 
 work before you see that picture," said Cricket 
 importantly. 
 
 The day before had been Eunice's birthday, 
 and this Kodak, which had been a long-desired 
 possession, was a birthday present. As it was 
 given to them entirely ready for use, they had 
 literally nothing to do but " press the button." 
 
 Papa had been too busy that morning to ex- 
 plain the mysterious little affair very particularly, 
 but he told the children to study the pamphlet 
 carefully, and follow directions closely. Eunice 
 and Cricket promptly sat down and read the 
 pamphlet from title-page to finis.
 
 14 EUNICE AND CRICKET. 
 
 Both looked a little blank when they had 
 finished. Could they ever remember all those 
 instructions ? 
 
 " It's all plain enough," said Eunice medita- 
 tively, "but the question is, how are we going 
 to remember it all at important times? Now, 
 for instance, about the stops. Listen : ' Snap- 
 shots can only be made when the largest stop is 
 in the lens.' Will you remember that, Cricket ?" 
 
 " We might just sit down and learn the whole 
 thing off by heart," suggested Cricket, wrinkling 
 her forehead thoughtfully. 
 
 " Horrors, no ! " returned Eunice. " Learn 
 all that ? Let's just carry the pamphlet around 
 with us all the time. If we take the camera 
 anywhere, we can certainly take the book, too. 
 Now let's go and take a picture." 
 
 " It's easier to take them out doors, everybody 
 says," answered Cricket, jumping up. " There's 
 'Liza starting out to walk with the twins. Let's 
 go and take them sitting on the front door- 
 steps." 
 
 The twins, of course, were perfectly delighted 
 at the idea of having their pictures taken. 
 Zaidie straightway sat herself down on the low- 
 est step, with her hands firmly folded in her
 
 TWO AMATEUR PHOTOGRAPHERS. 15 
 
 lap, and her feet out straight before her, trying 
 vainly to keep the smile out of her dimpled 
 face. 
 
 "I don't want you that way," said Eunice, 
 laughing, as she turned around. " You must 
 get in some romantic attitude. No, I don't 
 mean romantic, but picturesque." 
 
 " Couldn't I be sliding down the railing ? " 
 suggested Zaidie eagerly, thinking she saw a 
 chance to indulge in her favourite amusement. 
 " Wouldn't that be pick-chesk ? " 
 
 " You can't slide down no railings, pick-chesk 
 or no pick-chesk," put in Eliza, promptly. 
 
 "You couldn't, anyway," said Cricket, "be- 
 cause you have to sit still, Zaidie. You can't 
 hop around when you have your picture taken. 
 Don't you remember ? " 
 
 "Zaidie, you stand up by the post," began 
 Eunice, when Cricket interrupted her. 
 
 " Look ! There's Johnnie-goat trotting up the 
 street. Do let's have him in. He would be 
 picturesque." 
 
 " S'pose he'd stand still ? " asked Eunice 
 doubtfully. " I don't want to spoil my picture." 
 
 Johnnie-goat was a very celebrated character 
 in the neighbourhood. He belonged to a livery-
 
 16 EUNICE AND CRICKET. 
 
 stable that was on the square back of the Wards. 
 He was famous for eating off his rope and run- 
 ning away. He was a big white goat, with 
 unusually long horns, and a very inquiring dis' 
 position. He was such a ridiculous fellow, too, 
 sometimes munching sedately at a stray banana- 
 skin or orange-peel, then kicking up his heels 
 as if an invisible imp had tickled him, and 
 walking off on his forefeet. He was a very 
 discerning goat, also, and knew perfectly well 
 his friends from his enemies. He had good- 
 will for the one, and butts for the other. One 
 way that he knew his friends was that they 
 always wore dresses, while his enemies were 
 clad in trousers. That was one invariable mark. 
 Then, his friends gave him apples to eat, and 
 scratched the sensitive place between his horns 
 that he couldn't possibly reach himself, and 
 which, therefore, was seldom properly scratched. 
 His enemies usually saluted him with stones, 
 and offered him tin cans to eat. Now Johnnie- 
 goat was perfectly willing to acknowledge that 
 he could eat tin cans on occasions, but they 
 were not his favourite diet, and he didn't care 
 much for them. He regarded it as something 
 of an insult to be constantly offered them. It
 
 TWO AMATEUR PHOTOGRAPHERS. 17 
 
 was one thing, if he chose occasionally to pick 
 one up himself and see if he liked the brand, 
 but he decidedly objected to having them so 
 often forced on his attention. 
 
 The result of all this was, that Johnnie-goat's 
 disposition was somewhat mixed. Like some 
 people whom we have known, when he was good 
 he was very good indeed, but when he was bad 
 he was simply terrific. He seemed to know no 
 middle course. 
 
 I do not know why he was not called Billy, 
 in accordance with all traditions. His full title 
 was John O'Raft'erty, Esq., and on many occa- 
 sions he got the whole benefit of it. 
 
 He was great friends with all the Ward chil- 
 dren, who, from having so many pets of their 
 own at Kayuna, had a special predilection for 
 any stray animal. Johnnie-goat perfectly under- 
 stood this fact for any one who thinks that a 
 goat is not a highly discriminating creature, is 
 not acquainted with his peculiarities. 
 
 On this particular morning, Johnnie-goat was 
 quite willing to be treated to some banana-skins, 
 which the cook brought out to tempt him with. 
 He fully realised that it was a very solemn 
 occasion, for he stood like a sentinel, and only 
 blinked once.
 
 18 EUNICE AND CRICKET. 
 
 "We must take all sorts of things, Cricket," 
 said Eunice, when the children had trooped 
 away down the street, with Johnnie-goat march- 
 ing sedately behind them, with now and then a 
 sudden frisk of his hind legs in the air, and then 
 such an instant return of his composure, that 
 you doubted the evidence of your eyes. 
 
 " There are only a dozen pictures on one roll, 
 you know, and we want a good variety. Aren't 
 you just wild to develop -them ? I am. It 
 sounds so grown-up to talk of the chemicals and 
 the ' hypo.' " 
 
 " What is the * hypo? ' " asked Cricket, as they 
 went down the street in search of a good subject. 
 
 " Why, just hypo, I suppose. I don't believe 
 it's anything in particular," said Eunice vaguely. 
 
 "Donald said Marjorie had the hypo yester- 
 day," said Cricket thoughtfully, " when she was 
 sort of dumpy all day. But I suppose it isn't 
 the same kind." 
 
 " No, of course not, goosie. The hypo is that 
 white powder that comes with all the things. 
 Didn't you notice it ? Perhaps Donald meant 
 that Marjorie had been taking some. Oh, look ! 
 wouldn't that corner of the little park make 
 the sweetest picture ? Let's take it ! "
 
 TWO AMATEUR PHOTOGRAPHERS. 19 
 
 " Yes, let's ! and that's two," added Cricket, 
 when the picture was secured. "_/' this excit- 
 ing ? Can't I take the next one, Eunice ? Just 
 let me look at the pamphlet a moment to see 
 something." 
 
 Cricket buried herself in the book of instruc- 
 tions for a moment, then darted tragically at 
 the camera. 
 
 "Oh, Eunice! See! the pamphlet says that 
 after you take a picture, you must turn the key 
 around three or four times, till the next number 
 appears before the little window, and that will 
 put a new film ready ; and we never did it ! 
 What do you s'pose it will be ? " 
 
 The two girls stared at each other in dismay. 
 
 " Oh, dear ! dear ! " exclaimed Eunice. " Then 
 we've taken another picture right on top of 
 Johnnie-goat and the twins, and they were so 
 cunning ! " 
 
 " There isn't any way to wwtake it, is there ? " 
 asked Cricket, in real Mrs. Peterkin fashion. 
 
 " I'm afraid not. I wonder what it will look 
 like ! It will be a composite photograph, I 
 suppose, like Marjorie's class picture." 
 
 " Perhaps it won't be bad," said Cricket, the 
 hopeful. " You see, this last picture is trees and
 
 20 EUNICE AND CRICKET. 
 
 shrubbery, and there may be a glimpse of John- 
 nie-goat and the twins behind them. It may 
 look as if we did it on purpose. I shouldn't 
 wonder if it would be lovely. Perhaps we'll 
 want to take more that way." 
 
 " Perhaps," assented Eunice, doubtfully. " It 
 makes me think of Kenneth this morning. I 
 was in mamma's room while you were practis- 
 ing, and Kenneth was there too. He brought a 
 piece of paper to mamma and asked her to draw 
 a man, and she drew the side face of one and 
 Kenneth asked her where the other side of his 
 face was, and if it was on the other side of 
 the paper. Mamma told him the other side 
 of the face was there, but he couldn't see it ; and 
 then she turned him her side face to show him. 
 Well, Kenneth took the paper and ran off, but 
 came back in a moment with some straight lines 
 across it, and told mamma that that was a kitty 
 and a fence, and mamma said she saw the fence, 
 but where was the kitten ? And what do you 
 think the baby said ? that the kitten was be- 
 hind the fence ! That it was really there, only 
 she couldn't see it. Wasn't that cute ? " 
 
 "He's just the dearest, smartest baby that
 
 TWO AMATEUR PHOTOGRAPHERS. 21 
 
 over her beloved small brother. "We'll just 
 tell people, then, that the children are behind 
 the trees, even if they can't see them. There, 
 now, I've turned the film ready, this time. See ! 
 there's the figure 2 in the little window at the 
 back. Now, we are all ready. What shall we 
 take?" 
 
 " Let's take each other," suggested Eunice. 
 " I'll stand here by the park fence. Am I all 
 right?" 
 
 The picture-taking went on merrily after 
 that. They got a fine snap at papa just get- 
 ting out of his buggy, and one of mamma, as she 
 came home from market. They got another 
 dear little picture of the twins as they came 
 down the street hand in hand. It did not take 
 long to use up all the films at this rate, and at 
 luncheon they were able to announce, trium- 
 phantly, that they were ready to develop their 
 pictures that afternoon. 
 
 " But you don't know how," objected papa ; 
 " and I have to be out all the afternoon and can't 
 help you." 
 
 "Please let us try it by ourselves," pleaded 
 Eunice. "We can read the directions, and 
 they're terribly plain. A cat could use them. 
 Do let us ! "
 
 22 EUNICE AND CRICKET. 
 
 " Better not do it alone, youngsters," advised 
 Donald. " I'd show you, myself, if I were going 
 to be home, but I can't wait." 
 
 Donald was in college this year, but, being so 
 near, he often came home to lunch on Satur- 
 day, and sometimes spent Sunday there also. 
 
 " Of course we can do it," returned Cricket, 
 confidently. " We've read the directions a mil- 
 lion times already, and I pretty nearly know them 
 by heart. Listen : Open one of the developer 
 powders, then put the contents (two chemicals) 
 into the beaker and fill it up to the brim with 
 water. Stir, till dissolved, with wooden stirring 
 spoon. Next take 
 
 " Spare us," begged Marjorie. " We're will- 
 ing to take your knowledge for granted." 
 
 "We can use the linen closet for a dark 
 room," said Eunice. 
 
 " By no manner of means," put in mamma, 
 promptly. "I don't fancy having every sheet 
 and pillow-case I own deluged with chemicals. 
 You can have the bathroom closet, though, if 
 you'll promise to put everything you take out of 
 it back very carefully. But children, I de- 
 cidedly think you should wait for papa or Don 
 to show you how."
 
 TWO AMATEUR I'HOTOUUA I'HKRS. 23 
 
 "Do let them, mamma," advised Marjorie. 
 " Of course they will make a frightful mess, 
 and ruin the whole roll, but they will have the 
 experience." 
 
 " The idea ! " cried Eunice, much injured. 
 " We've done everything right thus far or 
 almost right," with a sudden, guilty recollection 
 of the double exposure of the first film. 
 
 "Almost everything ! " laughed Donald. " Con- 
 sidering you only have to aim the thing and 
 press the button, it would be strange if you 
 hadn't. Did you aim the wrong end of it and 
 try to take something out of the little back 
 window?" 
 
 " Of course we didn't," said Eunice and 
 Cricket, in an indignant breath. Then they 
 exchanged guilty, conscious glances. 
 
 " We'll promise about the closet," said Eunice 
 hastily, to prevent further inconvenient ques- 
 tions. " We'll take the things out carefully ; 
 and may we take the little nursery table to lay 
 our trays on ? It's just large enough to fit." 
 
 .These matters being settled, the two girls, as 
 soon as luncheon was over, eagerly began their 
 preparations. They had a free field, for mam- 
 ma and Marjorie had gone to a matinee, and
 
 24 EUNICE AND CRICKET. 
 
 Eliza had taken the children to the park for the 
 afternoon. The housemaid's closet in the bath- 
 room was soon cleared of its brooms and dust- 
 pans, and the small, low table from the nursery 
 was brought in. The little trays that came with 
 the outfit, the bottles of chemicals and "hypo" 
 were duly arranged on it. 
 
 "There!" said Eunice, surveying the prep- 
 arations with a professional eye. " Everything 
 is ready, I think. Let me see," consulting the 
 pamphlet. " * Also provide a pair of shears, a 
 pitcher of cold water, and a dark room having a 
 shelf or table' yes, all here. Trays, stirring 
 rod, chemicals, and when we shut the door we 
 have our dark room why, Cricket!" with a 
 sudden exclamation of dismay.
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 A DISCOVERY VH FILMS. 
 
 EUNICE'S exclamation was caused by the fact 
 that when she suited the action to the word, and 
 shut the door, they were, of course, in total 
 darkness. 
 
 " I should say so," returned Cricket, blankly. 
 " Not being cats, we can't see in 'Gyptian dark- 
 ness. Do open the door. We'll have to get a 
 lamp." 
 
 " No, we mustn't," answered Eunice, opening 
 the door, and consulting the pamphlet. " It 
 says, ' neither daylight nor lamplight.' It ought 
 to be a red light, like this one in the picture." 
 
 Although the children did not know it, such 
 a lamp had come with the outfit, but when Don- 
 ald unpacked the things he had left it in his own 
 room. 
 
 " We might get a lantern from the kitchen," 
 went on Eunice, " and wrap it with a red cloth.
 
 26 EUNICE AND CRICKET. 
 
 That will do. Will you go for the lantern while 
 I get the red cloth ? " 
 
 Cricket flew off, and returned in two minutes 
 with the lantern. 
 
 " Cook says," she announced, breathlessly, 
 " that if we put anything over it, we must be 
 careful not to cover up the breathing-holes at 
 the top." 
 
 " Isn't this fine for the cover ! " said Eunice, 
 displaying a small turkey-red laundry-bag. It's 
 contents lay on the floor under the table. 
 
 "Now, we're all ready," announced Eunice 
 once more, with much satisfaction. "What do 
 we do first ? where's the book ? " when the 
 lantern was carefully covered, with a due regard 
 for the breathing-holes. 
 
 " The book ? why it's I do believe we left 
 it in mamma's room. No, here it is. And 
 goodness gracious ! Cricket, we've forgotten to 
 take the roll of pictures out of the camera ! " 
 
 " Aren't we lunatics? " exclaimed Cricket, with 
 her bubbling laugh, as she threw open the 
 door. " How do we get the things out, anyway V 
 Everything is so tight" she added, turning it 
 upside down. "I can't see where anything 
 comes out. Where does it come to pieces ? "
 
 A DISCOVERY IX FILMS. 27 
 
 " I'll read the directions. ' Xo dark room is 
 required to take out the spool of films, but you 
 must take your position as far from the window 
 as possible.' So glad we needn't stay in this 
 dark closet to do it! Read the directions very 
 slowly, Cricket, and I'll do the things." 
 
 " All ready," said Cricket. " ' Unclose the 
 catch at the bottom, holding the camera taut' 
 What in the world is taut?" 
 
 Eunice knit her brows. 
 
 " Can't imagine, unless it means carefully," 
 she said, thoughtfully. 
 
 " Shan't run any risks," cried Cricket, jump- 
 ing up and flying away. " I'll look it up in the 
 dictionary." 
 
 She came back in a moment, looking rather 
 disgusted. 
 
 "It only means 'tight,' 'firmly.' Why in 
 creation didn't they say so ? " 
 
 Fortunately, the remaining directions were 
 sufficiently simple, and in a few minutes the 
 roll of exposures was in Eunice's hand. The 
 children went back into the closet, to make ready 
 the chemicals. 
 
 The careful measuring and mixing of the pow- 
 der with the required amount of water went on.
 
 28 EUNICE AND CRICKET. 
 
 The trays were arranged in due order, and Eunice 
 announced, for the third time : 
 
 " Everything is positively ready now, so we 
 can begin to cut apart the pictures," taking up 
 the roll of thick, black paper. "How can we 
 tell where to cut them ? Oh, here are little 
 white lines on the back. Can you see to cut, 
 Cricket?" 
 
 "Yes. What's all this white stuff between 
 for ? It looks like paraffin paper something, 
 only it smells like fury." 
 
 " It's just to keep the other paper from rub- 
 bing when it's rolled over the spool," said 
 Eunice, sniffling at the paper, which, you all 
 know, was really the film, on which the picture 
 had been taken. " I should say it does smell. 
 Throw it on the floor after you have cut off the 
 black pieces." 
 
 "Here's one," said Cricket. "Oh, I'm so 
 excited, Eunice. Listen: 'Put it in the water, 
 edge down, to prevent air bubbles.' " 
 
 " Done," said Eunice. " Next." 
 
 Cricket read on under the dim red light, till 
 she came to " In about one minute the film 
 will begin to darken in spots." 
 
 " There, we have not any watch," interrupted
 
 A DISCOVERY IN FILMS. 29 
 
 Eunice. " Cut out and get the nursery clock, 
 Cricket. Cover the roll all up, because you 
 know the leastest bit of light will spoil it." 
 
 Cricket obediently " cut out," and then re- 
 sumed her reading. 
 
 " ' The films will begin to darken in spots, 
 representing the lights.' Isn't that the funni- 
 est! how can black paper darken in spots, I'd 
 like to know?" 
 
 " Can't imagine ; but I know that chemicals 
 make things do all sorts of queer things," 
 answered Eunice, lucidly. " Cut some more to 
 be soaking while these go into the developer." 
 
 " That first one's been in more than a minute. 
 Hold it up, Eunice, and let's see it darken in 
 spots. It hasn't changed a bit, yet," she added, 
 disgustedly, after a moment. " Isn't this wait- 
 ing going to be slow work ? " 
 
 The waiting did prove tiresome. Again and 
 again the children took the thick, black squares 
 of carbon paper from their bath in the developer, 
 eagerly scanning the opaque substance, which 
 naturally showed no trace of change. 
 
 Five ten fifteen minutes ticked slowly 
 away. 
 
 " Goodness gracious me ! " groaned Eunice at
 
 30 EUNICE AND CRICKET. 
 
 last. " I should think we had been here for 
 five hours. Isn't this poky ? " 
 
 " This black paper can never darken," cried 
 Cricket, despairingly. " There's some mistake. 
 If it was that white lining paper there would be 
 some sense." 
 
 There was a moment's pause, and then both 
 girls exclaimed, in a breath : 
 
 " Eunice ! " 
 
 " Cricket ! " 
 
 " We've gone and 
 
 " Soaked the wrong thing ! " 
 
 " We've soaked the carbon paper " 
 
 " And thrown away the film ! " 
 
 "Of course that white paraffiny-looking paper 
 was the film ! " 
 
 " Of course this thick stuff is the carbon 
 paper to wrap around the other and keep out 
 the light." 
 
 " Aren't we geeses ? " 
 
 " We just are ! Don't let's ever tell. Now, 
 where are the films ? " 
 
 " Just dropped around anywhere," said 
 Cricket, dolefully. 
 
 " Scrabble around carefully, and we'll find 
 them. Oh! aren't we the idioticest girls?"
 
 A DISCOVERY IN FILMS. 31 
 
 " We'll have to mix some more developer, 
 and change the water in the first tray, too. It's 
 all black, for the colour in that old carbon paper 
 leaked out. Have you found all the films ? " 
 
 " I had only cut six, and here they are. I'll 
 cover them up while you open the door and fix 
 some more developer." 
 
 At last, everything was under way again. 
 
 " Four o'clock," said Eunice, soberly, " and to 
 think that we haven't developed a single one 
 yet!" 
 
 " But, oh, see ! " cried Cricket, joyfully, hold- 
 ing up the film, after a moment. "It really is 
 beginning to darken in spots. Hooray ! See, 
 Eunice, that actually looks like an arm sticking 
 out there ! What is it, do you suppose ? " 
 
 " I don't know. Looks like a ghost's arm, 
 doesn't it ? Put it to soak again. Let's look 
 at this one." 
 
 " Nothing here. Eunice, what makes all 
 these scratches across it?" 
 
 "Probably we stepped on them. You know 
 you threw them down any way. Probably the 
 scratches won't show through. Oh, I do believe 
 this is mamma ! Isn't that her bonnet that 
 begins to show?"
 
 32 EUNICE AND CKICKET. 
 
 " Yes no I think it's the one where we 
 tried to take that runaway horse. Seems to me 
 that looks like a leg down there." 
 
 It was a curious effect to watch the films as 
 they eagerly held one after another up, for the 
 different parts came out in a ghostly, unattached 
 way. Here one lonely-looking leg was plainly 
 to be seen. Then a head, and again a branch of 
 a tree or an arm. 
 
 " But look at this one," cried Cricket, survey- 
 ing one in deep disgust. " Isn't this the small- 
 poxiest-looking thing?" 
 
 It was pretty liberally sprinkled with dark 
 spots, but one of them was unmistakably John- 
 nie-goat's head and horns. 
 
 "This must be the one we took on top of 
 Johnnie-goat and the twins, shouldn't you 
 think ? I do believe it is them it is they 
 which is right ? " 
 
 " I do believe it is," answered Eunice, ig- 
 noring the grammatical appeal. "It's spotty 
 enough to be anything. It's certainly like 
 Kenneth and his cat, for I can see Johnnie- 
 goat behind the trees." 
 
 " So we can. Look at this one, Cricket. 
 What we thought was mamma's bonnet or a
 
 A DISCOVERY IN FILMS. 33 
 
 runaway horse isn't either. You held it upside 
 down. See ! it's this one where papa was 
 getting out of his buggy. What we thought 
 was mamma's bonnet is papa's foot. I guess 
 they are ready for the last tray now. Go on 
 with the directions." 
 
 Long after five o'clock, two very sober and 
 tired-looking children emerged from the bath- 
 room closet, and proceeded to set things to 
 rights. 
 
 " Do you know," said Eunice, breaking a long 
 silence as they cleared trays and wiped off the 
 table, "the book says it only costs five cents 
 apiece to get the things developed at a photog- 
 rapher's. Don't you really think it would be 
 worth while to save up our money for a time 
 and have some done ? Of course we could learn 
 to do it all right after a time, but 
 
 " Yes," broke in Cricket emphatically, " I do. 
 I don't vote to stay in every Saturday afternoon 
 and develop smallpoxy pictures, with smelly old 
 chemicals and nasty, sticky films, and put my 
 eyes out with red calico lamps. This picture of 
 papa is the only single one that is going to be 
 half-way decent ; and the horse looks more like 
 the ghost of a rhinoceros than anything else.
 
 34 EUNICE AND CRICKET. 
 
 That post sticks up by his nose just like a 
 horn." 
 
 " Cricket, don't let's ever tell that we soaked 
 the carbon paper and thought it was the film 
 that the pictures were taken on," said Eunice, 
 scrubbing with much soap and energy at the 
 dull yellow stains on her hands that stubbornly 
 grew brighter, instead of fading. " We'd never 
 hear the last of it; and we were geeses," she 
 added thoughtfully. 
 
 "Indeed, I'll never tell," returned Cricket 
 with emphasis. " Papa and Donald would tease 
 us out of our boots." 
 
 But at dinner-time there were many inquiries 
 concerning the success of the amateur photog- 
 raphy. 
 
 " It was a little tiresome," confessed Eunice. 
 " Marjorie, was the matine'e good ? " 
 
 " Yes, very. How many pictures did you 
 develop ? " 
 
 " Only one really good one. Papa, don't you 
 think you could drive us out to Kayuna next 
 Saturday ? " 
 
 "Yes, if it's pleasant. So only one picture 
 developed ? " 
 
 " Oh, they all developed" put in Cricket,
 
 A DISCOVERY IN FILMS. 35 
 
 " only we couldn't always tell exactly what they 
 were meant for. Marjorie, wasn't May Chester 
 at the matinee ? 1 thought I saw her going." 
 
 ' tk But we want to know about the pictures," 
 persisted papa, much amused at the children's 
 fencing. " When w r ill the gallery be opened ? 
 The twins said you took them with Johnnie- 
 goat." 
 
 " Yes, we did, and it would have been fine, 
 only we took another picture on top of it," said 
 Cricket, regretfully. " We should have turned 
 the little key around every time we took a new 
 picture, but we didn't, and they got a little 
 mixed up." 
 
 " We took some trees on top of Johnnie-goat," 
 broke in Eunice, " and we hoped that it would 
 look as if he and the children were behind them. 
 Really, I think that would be a pretty good plan, 
 any way, if they would only develop right." 
 
 " So they didn't, eh ? " 
 
 " Papa, you needn't tease us. Developing 
 pictures isn't a bit of fun, and I'm not going to 
 do it any more," burst out Cricket desperately. 
 " It isn't right to take money from the photog- 
 raphers anyway, for it's their business, and they 
 lose so much if we do it ourselves."
 
 36 EUNICE AND CRICKET. 
 
 "I think so, too," chimed in Eunice. "We 
 staid in all this lovely Saturday, shut up in a 
 hot, smelly closet, and wasted a lot of stuff, and 
 got our hands all stained, and spoiled a whole 
 lot of films." 
 
 "But had your experience," put in papa. 
 " Experience is a hard school, but wise men 
 learn in no other way. How's that, my Lady 
 Jane ? And now about Kayuna on Saturday," he 
 went on, kindly changing the subject. 
 
 "Cricket, don't ever tell about the film," 
 whispered Eunice as they left the table. " Don't 
 ever tell any one." 
 
 And they never have told but one person, and 
 she has never told till just now. Don't you tell, 
 will you ?
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 i 
 
 A "MUMPFUL" PARTY. 
 
 CERTAIN dainty blue billets were causing a 
 wild flutter of excitement among the ranks of 
 Miss Lyon's school, for every girl in " our set " 
 received one of the fascinating things. 
 
 " Miss Emily Dray ton requests the pleasure 
 of How deliciously grown up! Emily's 
 parties were always simply perfect. Emily did 
 not go to school with the others, for she was a 
 delicate little girl, and had her lessons with a 
 governess at home. Her friends rather envied 
 her at times, since she had short hours and not 
 half the Latin and arithmetic to do that they 
 did, and an entire holiday whenever she did not 
 feel quite well; but, in her turn, Emily often 
 looked wistfully at the others, and longed with 
 all her heart for the dear delights of school life. 
 She always felt " out of it " when her little 
 friends laughed and chattered and compared 
 notes over school doings that she knew nothing
 
 38 EUNICE AND CRICKET. 
 
 of. They would kindly explain the jokes and 
 references, but when she did not know dear 
 Miss Bates and cross Miss Raymond and slipshod 
 Susie Dane and stupid Jessie Moore, the things 
 that the girls laughed over till their sides ached 
 did not seem very funny to her. It made her 
 rather a lonely little girl, and, for this reason, 
 her mother was always getting up some simple 
 little party or company for her, and having 
 Emily's friends to luncheon. 
 
 But this special party was to be a particularly 
 fine affair, for it was not only Emily's birthday, 
 but Hallowe'en as well, which double event Mrs. 
 Drayton always celebrated more elaborately than 
 any other. 
 
 Such an excitement among the children, then, 
 when the blue notes began to circulate ! Such 
 jabbering at recess, such comparing of notes, 
 such arrangements for going, such questions 
 about each other's dress ! Alas ! the party was 
 a whole week off. Could breakfast, and luncheon, 
 and dinner, and going to bed and getting up, and 
 school and lessons, ever fill up this long stretch 
 between ? 
 
 " I suppose there are new gowns for this im- 
 portant occasion," said Donald, who had strolled
 
 A " MUMPFUL " PARTY. 39 
 
 in to dinner, one night. The family were all in 
 the back parlour. 
 
 "No," said mamma. "Their organdies are 
 fresh and nice, fortunately, and new sashes are 
 all they need." 
 
 " Fortunately ! C/wfortunately, I say," said 
 Donald, teasingly. " I was going to- bring 
 Cricket a dress of porcelain," referring to a joke 
 of last summer, when Cricket had arrayed a 
 heroine in flowing robes of white porcelain. 
 
 Cricket coloured, but answered serenely, as 
 usual : 
 
 " If I was a great big boy, eighteen years old, 
 and a Freshman, too, I'd be ashamed of an old 
 chestnut joke like that. I described to auntie 
 what I meant, and she said I meant chiffon 
 that gauzy, filmy stuff, you know." 
 
 " Filmy stuff would be appropriate," mur- 
 mured Marjorie. " With a sash of black carbon 
 ribbon you would be very swell." 
 
 " This family is absolutely disgusting," said 
 Eunice, looking aggrieved. " Mamma, I should 
 think you would be ashamed of such perfectly 
 impolite, teasy children as Donald and Mar- 
 jorie." 
 
 " I 'xpect God picked out the bestest children
 
 40 EUNICE AND CRICKET. 
 
 he had around then," piped up Zaidie, who 
 always put her oar in. 
 
 " Indeed, he didn't," said Cricket emphati- 
 cally. "The good ones were all gone, and 
 mamma was in a hurry, and He just sent any 
 He had on hand." 
 
 " Good for you, Cricket ! " cried Eunice ap- 
 provingly, thumping her sister on the back. 
 " Now, Mr. Donald, who has come out the little 
 end of the horn?" 
 
 " Eunice, your slang is simply disgusting. Of 
 course, we men talk it, but girls should never 
 think of it." 
 
 " Hark, oh, hark, to the lordly Freshman ! " 
 chanted Eunice, clasping her hands and rolling 
 up her eyes. 
 
 " Notice everything he says, Eunice, so we'll 
 know how to behave when we go to college, and 
 are dear, cunning little Freshmen," chimed in 
 Cricket. 
 
 " No more words of wisdom to-night," an- 
 nounced Donald, getting up. " I'm off." 
 
 " The supply exhausted so soon ? " murmured 
 Marjorie, beginning a new corner in her em- 
 broidery. 
 
 Donald kissed his mother, ignoring Marjorie.
 
 A "MUMPFUL" PARTY. 41 
 
 " I'll order you a Dresden China gown, my 
 Lady Jane," he said, twisting Cricket's brown 
 curls as he passed her. 
 
 On the eventful Tuesday morning, Cricket 
 awoke bright and early or rather, I should 
 say, early but by no means bright. She had had 
 a most unpleasant dream of having exchanged 
 heads with an elephant, and her neck was, con- 
 sequently, so much larger, that she could not 
 fasten her collar around it. Eunice suggested 
 they should make a new collar of the sail of 
 the Gentle Jane, which she said would be just 
 large enough. That seemed a good suggestion, 
 but as they went to get it, they saw the Q-entle 
 Jane being taken out to sea by some playful 
 seals. 
 
 "Dear! dear!" said Cricket in her dreams. 
 "Now I'll have to go to the party without 
 anything around my neck, because there isn't 
 anything else big enough to make a collar of, 
 and my throat is getting bigger all the time." 
 Just then she awoke, clutching her neck. Sure 
 enough, it did feel queer, and was very stiff 
 on one side. She swallowed, experimentally. 
 
 " I don't like that pretty well," she announced 
 to herself as the result of her attempt. " I won-
 
 42 EUNICE AND CRICKET. 
 
 der if I have the lumbago in my throat, and 
 to-night is Emily's party ! I won't have a sore 
 throat. I never did in my life before, and 1 
 won't begin to-night provoking old thing ! " 
 
 She swallowed vigorously several times, and 
 winked back the tears. 
 
 " There ! that didn't hurt much. Wonder if 
 it's swollen." She hopped out of bed quickly, and 
 ran to the glass. She opened the neck of her 
 night-dress and examined her round, white throat 
 critically. It certainly was a trifle larger on 
 one side, and was sore, as she pressed it a 
 little. 
 
 " Oh, my patience, if it should be lumbago ! " 
 she groaned tragically. She hadn't the faintest 
 idea what lumbago is, but the name sounded to 
 her as if it might be something that could come 
 in the throat. " Wonder how long it would take 
 lumbago to come on. I ^vori't have it begin till 
 after to-night, anyway. How queer my head 
 feels ! I guess I'll look inside my throat." 
 
 Cricket turned quickly to draw up the shade, 
 that she might see better what inroads the 
 "lumbago" had already made. The quick 
 movement made her aching head dizzy. She 
 stumbled forward, tripped over her long night-
 
 A " MUMPFUL " PARTY. 43 
 
 dress, and sat down, hitting the water pitcher 
 which she had left the night before standing 
 by the washstand. Over went the pitcher, and 
 out came a deluge of water, almost setting be- 
 wildered Cricket afloat, as she lay huddled up 
 on the floor. 
 
 " Cricket, what an awful racket you're 
 making," said Eunice sleepily, from her bed. 
 " Don't get up yet. It isn't time. It isn't light 
 enough." 
 
 " Don't get up ? Do you think I'm going to 
 lie here and drown f " asked Cricket indignantly, 
 getting rather weakly on her feet. " I've knocked 
 over the water pitcher." She pulled the towels 
 off the rack, and began mopping up the flood 
 that crawled in every direction. " I'm wet 
 through to my bones, I do believe, and there 
 isn't a dry inch in my night-dress." 
 
 " Put on another one, and get on your bed- 
 room slippers. Don't hop around there another 
 minute with your bare feet," ordered Eunice, 
 sleepily, but sensibly. 
 
 Cricket mopped dejectedly. "The water 
 tipped straight into my slippers. There ! That 
 will do till Jane gets at it. Ugh ! my feet are 
 as cold as chopsticks. I'll change my night-
 
 44 EUNICE AND CRICKET. 
 
 dress, and then I'm going to get into bed with 
 you, Eunice, and get warm." 
 
 By breakfast time, Cricket felt very queer 
 indeed. At any other time her mother would 
 have noticed her lack of appetite and flushed 
 cheeks; but just now it was, of course, put 
 down to the excitement of the coming event. 
 Her throat was stiffer than ever. She managed 
 to slip down a little oatmeal, but the other, things 
 hurt too much to attempt. 
 
 " I won't have lumbago in my throat till after 
 this party," Cricket repeated grimly, to herself, 
 as she went up-stairs to get ready for school. 
 " Only I do wish the party was last night, and 
 I could go into mamma's room and lie down all 
 day, instead of going to school. My throat gets 
 sweller and sweller. Do you suppose it could 
 swell up so that I couldn't eat anything, and 
 would starve to death ? " 
 
 At this cheerful thought, Cricket groaned so 
 deep a groan that Eunice looked around in 
 amazement. 
 
 " Was that you, Cricket ? Did you hurt 
 yourself?" 
 
 " No, I was only thinking. Do you know those 
 irregular French verbs ? Aren't they awful ? "
 
 A " MUMPFUL " PARTY. 45 
 
 " I should think they were. They are enough 
 to make a cow groan. Ready ? Come on. Why, 
 aren't you ready ? " 
 
 Cricket swallowed an unhappy lump in her 
 throat, and winked back a tear. How her throat 
 did hurt, and how her head ached ! 
 
 "I'm not quite ready. I didn't have 'Liza 
 brush my hair out, and it's all full of bones, as 
 Zaidie says. Upsetting that water pitcher, and 
 mopping it up, took up so much time. There ! 
 that must do. Where are my books ? Oh, here. 
 I'm ready. Come on," and Cricket ran out first, 
 lest Eunice should see her face. 
 
 The keen, fresh air seemed to do her head 
 good, and by the time she reached school, she 
 felt a little better. All the girls were chattering 
 so hard about the party that night, that, for the 
 time being, Cricket forgot her throat. 
 
 Under any other circumstances her manner 
 and appearance would have attracted notice and 
 comment. But it must be confessed that from 
 a school point of view, the day was a general 
 failure, and among the many flushed faces, hers 
 passed unnoticed. She was sometimes languid 
 and dull, and then excited and inattentive, mak- 
 ing all kinds of queer blunders. She finally dis-
 
 46 EUNICE AND CRICKET. 
 
 tinguished herself by announcing in her history 
 class that Tecumseh, the Indian chief, died of a 
 severe attack of lumbago, exclaiming as he fell, 
 " Don't give up the ship." 
 
 " Really, Jean, it is fortunate that parties do 
 not come every day," said her long-suffering 
 teacher, rather surprised that it should be 
 Cricket who said this, for the child's quick 
 memory rarely failed her. Cricket sat scarlet 
 and mortified, and did not recover even when 
 that stupid Mary Blair wrote on the board in 
 the grammar class, "Troy was concord by the 
 Greasians." 
 
 However, the day slipped away. By dinner- 
 time, her throat felt as if a good-sized potato 
 had taken up its residence there. Her head 
 ached and her bones ached, and down in one 
 corner of her heart she began to wish that 
 some one would say positively that she could not 
 go to the party. 
 
 Meantime, after luncheon Eunice had begun 
 to feel heavy-headed and stiff-necked herself. 
 Like Cricket, she carefully concealed the fact, 
 and resolutely put on a bright face and a very 
 " smily " smile, if any one looked in her direc- 
 tion. Each child was so absorbed in conceal-
 
 A "MUMPFUL PARTY. AT 
 
 ing her own feelings that neither noticed the 
 other. 
 
 At dinner, both being rather exhausted by 
 such unusual exertions, they were so silent that 
 papa asked them finally whether this was the 
 night they were going to Emily Drayton's party, 
 or the night they were going to be hanged. He 
 himself had forgotten, he said, and he couldn't 
 tell by their faces. 
 
 "They have been going to this party every 
 day and night for a week," said mamma, looking 
 rather anxiously at each flushed face. " No 
 wonder they are all tired out beforehand. I 
 had them both lie down for an hour this 
 afternoon, also. My chickens, you must eat 
 a little more dinner than that, if you are 
 excited." 
 
 " I positively can't, mamma," said Cricket, 
 feeling every moment that the tears would come 
 if she forced another morsel past that awful 
 lump, that now felt the size of a watermelon to 
 her. Eunice resolutely choked down another 
 bit of mashed potato. 
 
 " I'm too excited," she remarked, with a great 
 assumption of cheerfulness. " Mamma, will 
 you excuse Cricket and me, and let us go up-
 
 48. EUNICE AND CRICKET. 
 
 stairs now ? I don't want any dessert, do you, 
 Cricket?" 
 
 Cricket jumped up briskly. 
 
 " No, indeed. Please 'scuse us, mamma," 
 and equally glad to escape, the two children 
 flew up-stairs. Each began to make conversa- 
 tion as they dressed. Eliza was there, waiting 
 to help them. 
 
 " Lawks, how hot your face is ! " said Eliza, 
 her hand touching Cricket's cheek, as she 
 brushed the brown curls till the gold light in 
 them shone out. 
 
 " It's excitement," said Eunice. " Mine's 
 hot, too ; just feel. Ouch ! " with an undigni- 
 fied exclamation, as Eliza's hand touched the 
 lower part of her cheek rather heavily. 
 
 Cricket suddenly flashed a quick glance at her. 
 
 "Eunice," she said hastily, as Eliza left the 
 room for a moment, " does your throat feel 
 queer ? " 
 
 " Yes. How do you know ? " answered Eunice, 
 surprised. 
 
 " 'Cause mine does, awfully. It has all day. 
 And my head aches." 
 
 " So does mine ! " 
 
 " And I'm so hot "
 
 GKTTING READY FOR THE PARTY.
 
 A " MUMPFUL " PARTY. 51 
 
 So am I." 
 
 " And I feel so queer all over." 
 
 "So do I. What can be the matter? It 
 can't be the party ! " 
 
 " A party we haven't been to can't make us 
 sick. No; I'm afraid we're going to have the 
 lumbago in our throats, and I think that's some- 
 thing dreadful." 
 
 "Lumbago? It sounds dreadful. Why, I 
 never heard of it. What is it ? " 
 
 " Oh, I've heard of it. I heard papa telling 
 mamma that May Chester's grandmother had 
 it, and you know how sick she's been this fall." 
 
 " This lump in my throat is bad enough for 
 anything," sighed Eunice, putting her hand to 
 it. " But let's stand it till the party is over, 
 Cricket." 
 
 " m stick it out," said Cricket, with grim 
 determination. 
 
 Mamma came in just here and put the finish- 
 ing touches to the dainty dresses, and then they 
 went down to the back parlour to exhibit them- 
 selves in all their bravery to papa and Marjorie. 
 
 Donald sauntered in as they were being duly 
 admired. 
 
 "Hollo, kids! What giddy - looking girls!
 
 52 EUNICE AND CRICKET. 
 
 I am proud of you. Be sure and be good girls. 
 Don't forget to ' open your eyes and look very 
 wise, although you feel very silly.' " 
 
 " But we don't feel very silly," returned 
 Eunice with dignity. " We're not Freshmen 
 in college." 
 
 " Been polishing your wits for the party, I 
 see. Good plan, my Lady Greasewrister, and 
 Madame Van Twister, your ladyship's sister." 
 
 " You always did call us names, and I s'pose 
 you always will," said Cricket tolerantly. " But 
 it amuses you, and we don't care do we, 
 Eunice ? Isn't it time to go, mamma ? " 
 
 " Yes, the carriage is waiting. Put on my 
 cloak for me, Donald. Thank you, dear. All 
 ready, my little maids." 
 
 It was some distance to Emily Drayton's, and 
 during the drive the children were so silent 
 that mamma was a little worried. So little 
 excitement of this kind was allowed them, that 
 generally they were as merry as grigs. 
 
 " What is the matter, girls ? I never saw 
 such sober little faces bound for a party. Is 
 anything wrong ? " 
 
 Cricket longed to confess that her throat felt 
 like a boiled pudding, that the skin of her neck
 
 A "MUMPFUL" PARTY. , 53 
 
 was queer and stretched, that the lights danced 
 confusedly before her eyes, and that she wanted 
 to turn around, go home, and go to bed. How- 
 ever, since she had borne it all day, she did not 
 exactly like to sacrifice so much resolution, and 
 giving Eunice's hand a tight squeeze, she said : 
 
 " No, it's nothing much ; only a joke we're 
 going to tell you after the party." 
 
 " A joke," said mamma suspiciously. " Hadn't 
 you better tell me now ? " 
 
 "No, really," said Cricket earnestly. "It 
 doesn't have anything to do with anybody but 
 ourselves, truly, mamma," quite believing her 
 words. 
 
 " I don't like jokes that make you look so 
 sober, my chickens. Cricket, are you very warm, 
 dear ? Your cheeks are so red that they are 
 almost purple." 
 
 " It's warm in the carriage. Don't you think 
 so ? " struck in Eunice. And then mamma, to 
 take up their minds, began to talk brightly about 
 some funny occurrence that she had seen that 
 morning while she was marketing, and the chil- 
 dren almost forgot their respective woes. 
 
 When they arrived at the Drayton's, most of 
 the children were already there. The lovely
 
 54 EUNICE AND CRICKET. 
 
 house presented a gay scene. Emily greeted 
 Eunice and Cricket rapturously. 
 
 " I was so afraid that something had happened, 
 and you weren't coming," she said. " We are 
 just going to play ' Quack,' and Cricket is always 
 so funny in that. Come over here." 
 
 The classic game of " Quack " was started. 
 All of you know it, do you not ? A large circle 
 is formed, and one person, blindfolded, stands 
 in the middle with a cane in her hand. The 
 circle moves slowly around till the person in the 
 centre thumps the cane as a signal to stop, and 
 then it is pointed at some one. This person 
 takes the other end of the cane, and the blind- 
 folded one asks any question, which must be 
 answered by the word " Quack," uttered in a 
 disguised voice. The one in the centre must 
 guess the speaker, and is allowed three ques- 
 tions. 
 
 Cricket was always in demand for the centre, 
 because her quick wits supplied her with funny 
 questions. To-night, however, she rather lost 
 her reputation, for her tired little brain could 
 concoct nothing more original than, " What is 
 your name ? " " Do you like butter ? " and all 
 the other stupid questions that everybody asked.
 
 A "MUMPFUL" PARTY. 55 
 
 One game succeeded another, but somehow noth- 
 ing went very briskly. Presently Mrs. Drayton 
 drew Mrs. Ward aside, anxiously. 
 
 What is the matter with these children ? It 
 is so hard to get them started at anything. 
 They don't seem to be having a good time." 
 
 " I've noticed something wrong," said Mrs. 
 Ward, looking about her. " I never knew it so 
 before, especially at this house. I've been watch- 
 ing my own two pretty closely, and something is 
 certainly wrong." 
 
 " See ! " said Mrs. Drayton that is the eighth 
 child that has dropped out of that game, and 
 it is so with everything we have started." 
 
 " There is something in the air," Mrs. Ward 
 said to her friend. " And look ! there is 
 Cricket actually sitting all alone behind that 
 palm, with her head in her hand. I asked her 
 a few minutes ago what is the matter, but she 
 insists there is nothing. Why not hasten sup- 
 per ? " 
 
 " That's always a good suggestion," answered 
 Mrs. Drayton. " Will you set them to playing 
 * Going to Jerusalem,' then they will be all 
 ready to march out. Mrs. Fleming will play 
 for them."
 
 56 EUNICE AND CRICKET. 
 
 Even " Going to Jerusalem " was not a 
 brilliant success. Most of the children marched 
 rather listlessly around, dropping into chairs 
 when the music stopped, without the usual 
 scramble. Many of the little faces were flushed 
 a dark red, and eyes were heavy-lidded. The 
 announcement of supper was a relief, but Mrs. 
 Drayton's quick eyes noticed, to her perplexity, 
 that many of the dainty dishes were passed 
 by untouched, and that on many a plate 
 the luscious creams and ices were scarcely 
 tasted. 
 
 Directly after supper Cricket sought Eunice. 
 
 " Eunice, I can't stand it any longer. The 
 party is most out, and I must tell mamma that 
 I have lumbago in my throat. If I don't, it may 
 get so bad it can't be mended. I mean cured. 
 Do you mind very much if I ask mamma to 
 take us home ? The party isn't half as nice as 
 I thought it was going to be." 
 
 " I don't mind a bit," said Eunice, with an 
 unexpected readiness. " I feel too queer for 
 anything. Do you suppose it's something awful 
 we've got, Cricket ? " 
 
 "I don't know. I feel as if I were two 
 persons plastered together. There's so much
 
 A "MUMPFUL PARTY. 57 
 
 of me. My eyes are pulled sideways down to 
 my ears. I feel so queer and big," finished 
 Cricket, dolefully. 
 
 So a few minutes later Mrs. Ward heard a 
 dilapidated little voice behind her : 
 
 " Mamma dear, we're ready to go home 
 whenever you are." 
 
 Mamm was absolutely paralysed by this 
 unexpected remark. 
 
 "Cricket! is it you? What is the matter, 
 dear? Are you ill?" 
 
 "No-o. At least I think not. But well 
 my head aches a little and my throat is stiff 
 and hot, and my eyes are leaky and I'm sort of 
 dizzy, and 
 
 " My darling child ! your throat is sore ? 
 Why didn't you tell me before? Where's 
 Eunice ? We will go immediately. Find Eu- 
 nice, and both of you slip away to the dress- 
 ing-room without speaking to any one. I'll say 
 good-by for you to Emily and Mrs. Drayton." 
 
 " Eunice is ready, mamma. She feels queer, 
 too." 
 
 Mrs. Ward's heart, mother-like, jumped into 
 her mouth. Cricket's description of her feelings 
 might mean any one of so many things ! How-
 
 58 EUNICE AND CRICKET. 
 
 ever, she kept a calm face, and hastened to 
 explain matters to Mrs. Drayton. 
 
 " Do you know, I almost believe that all the 
 children are coming down with something," said 
 Mrs. Drayton, anxiously. " That would account 
 for their all being so heavy and dull, and hard 
 to amuse. Poor little Emily is in despair. She 
 has looked forward to this so long ! " 
 
 The next day, seventeen of the children who 
 had been at the party were down with the 
 mumps.
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 IN QUARANTINE. 
 
 " So it's only the mumps ! " sighed Cricket, 
 with much relief, after papa's visit to their 
 respective bedsides the next morning. "Papa, 
 do you know I was dreadfully afraid that I had 
 lumbago in my throat all day yesterday, when 
 it was all swelly-feeling and hurt so to swallow. 
 That would have killed me, wouldn't it?" 
 
 Papa laughed hard. 
 
 " It might be a serious matter if you had it 
 in your throat, but you are in no more danger 
 of its getting there than you are of having 
 toothache in your toes, my Lady Jane. Will 
 you take a look at yourself this morning ?" and 
 papa held up a hand mirror. 
 
 All resemblance to Cricket had totally disap- 
 peared from the swollen-faced little maid on the 
 bed, and the child stared in blank astonishment. 
 
 " Is that me ?" she gasped. 
 
 " It is you, grammar and all," laughed papa,
 
 60 EUNICE AND CRICKET. 
 
 turning to Eunice, who lay in her cot on the 
 other side of the room. "Admire each other 
 to your heart's content, for you are just alike, 
 my blooming little beauties." 
 
 " It's bad enough to be sick without being such 
 frights," said Eunice dolefully. " Cricket, you 
 look so funny. I want to laugh at you all the 
 time, and I can't laugh for my face is so stiff 
 that I can't seem to manage it." 
 
 " I've been wanting to laugh at you ever since 
 we woke up, but I didn't want to hurt your feel- 
 ings," said Cricket, politely. " I didn't know 
 I looked just as worse." 
 
 " You look ' just as worser,' if anything, little 
 Lindley Murray," said papa, rising to go. 
 
 " But I don't feel so very sick to-day, except- 
 ing my head. Couldn't I get up by-and-by, 
 papa? My legs feel so kicky." 
 
 " Yes, you may get up, but don't leave this 
 room, remember. Here comes mamma now. 
 Have you given Eliza directions about the chil- 
 dren, dear?" 
 
 " Yes, she will keep them on the nursery 
 floor. So these two can get up ? That's nice. 
 Mumps may not be very comfortable, my chick- 
 ens, but it is nothing dangerous, if you don't
 
 IX QUARANTINE. 61 
 
 take cold. Think of you two going to the party 
 last night in that condition ! " 
 
 " I guess it was the mumpfulest party there 
 ever was," said Cricket musingly. " I don't 
 believe there was a single unmumpful child 
 there. Good-by papa ; be sure and stop and see 
 if Emily has the mumps and if she hasn't, 
 I'll send her some." 
 
 " It might be a good plan to have an auction 
 sale of them," laughed papa, as he left the room. 
 
 The day was a long and weary one, and in 
 spite of mamma's company and of many amuse- 
 ments, Eunice and Cricket were glad to creep 
 back into bed again early in the afternoon. 
 Cricket was much the sicker of the two chil- 
 dren, for she had taken a little cold from her 
 unexpected plunge the morning before. 
 
 Just before dinner Donald came in, and went 
 directly to his father's office. 
 
 " Father, I feel confoundedly queer," he said. 
 " I wish you'd give me something. My throat 
 is thick and I can scarcely swallow, and I've a 
 splitting headache, and a toothache around my 
 entire jaw. Please patch me up, for I have 
 to go to a society meeting to-night." 
 
 Doctor Ward lay back in his office-chair
 
 62 EUNICE AND CRICKET. 
 
 and looked up at his tall son with a quizzical 
 smile. 
 
 " H'm ! lumbago in your throat too, eh ? Sit 
 down here, old boy, and let me have a look at 
 you." 
 
 Donald sat down, while his father asked him 
 a question or two. Then Doctor Ward burst 
 out laughing. Donald looked injured. 
 
 "I presume it is nothing serious then," he 
 said, with so precisely the same air of dignity 
 that the younger children often assumed when 
 he teased them, that his father laughed harder. 
 
 " It's serious or not, as you take it," he said. 
 " For my part, I think it's decidedly serious. My 
 dear fellow, you have the mumps." 
 
 Donald jumped about two feet. 
 
 " Mumps ! " he ejaculated. " That baby-dis- 
 ease at my age ! Great Caesar's ghost ! how 
 the fellows will guy me ! " He dropped down in 
 a chair, with his feet straight out in front of him 
 a comical picture of despair. 
 
 " It was considerate of you to come home 
 to have them," said Doctor Ward comfortingly. 
 " Eunice and Cricket are just down with them. 
 We'll quarantine you all together, and then you 
 can amuse each other."
 
 IN QUARANTINE 63 
 
 " The kids, too ? " groaned Donald. " See 
 here! Did they give 'em to me? I'll wallop 
 them ! " 
 
 Doctor Ward laughed harder. 
 
 " I don't know where they came from, yet. 
 I've had twenty cases to-day. Most of the chil- 
 dren at the Drayton party are down. ' A mump- 
 ful affair,' as Cricket says. You may have 
 picked them up on the street-cars. You could 
 not have gotten them from our children." 
 
 " Then I'll stay home till the confounded 
 things are over," said Donald, rising. " I sup- 
 pose I mustn't go to dinner? Are the kidlets 
 down? No? Well, I'll go to my room and 
 stay there. Since Eunice and Cricket are next 
 door to it, that's all right. Is mother with the 
 kids ? I'll look in on them." 
 
 So, just as mamma was cudgelling her dis- 
 tracted brain for more stories to tell her two 
 forlorn children, a knock was heard at the door, 
 and Donald's curly head poked itself in. 
 
 "Hollo, Lady Greasewrister, and Madame 
 Van Twister, her ladyship's sister ! How are 
 your noble mumpships ? " 
 
 " Go 'way, Don," called Cricket dolefully. 
 " We're all inumpy in here. You'll get them."
 
 64 EUNICE AND CRICKET. 
 
 But Donald boldly advanced. " Your humble 
 servant, Madame Van Twister. Your gracious 
 majesty was pleased to smile on me last night, and 
 your native generosity shares even your ailments 
 with me. Behold, thy servant also is mumpy." 
 
 " You, too, Donald," shrieked Eunice delight- 
 edly. " Oh, don't make me laugh," holding her 
 hands to her throat. " Isn't it funny, mamma ? 
 I didn't know Freshmen ever had mumps and 
 things." 
 
 " Are you going to stay here with us, Don, 
 really ? " said Cricket interestedly. 
 
 " Yes, Miss Scricket, I am. Any objections ? 
 That is, in my cell next door. And as we are 
 jointly quarantined from the rest of the family, 
 I foresee we'll have some high old times. Oh, 
 how they'll wish they had the mumps ! " 
 
 " Poor boy ! " said Mrs. Ward, sympathetically. 
 " What a nuisance for you ! " 
 
 For a week the mumps held high carnival 
 at the Ward's. Imagine, if you can, the effect 
 of all those swollen faces in a group. If Eunice 
 and Cricket looked funny, they were nothing to 
 lordly Donald, whose face was extended to the 
 funniest possible proportions, for he had the 
 affliction only on one side.
 
 IN QUARANTINE. 65 
 
 " WeVe a regular fat man's picnic," said 
 Cricket the day that Zaidie joined the up-stairs 
 party. For by the usual law of contraries, 
 Zaidie, who was always strong and well, suc- 
 cumbed after two days, and delicate little Helen, 
 as well as Kenneth, entirely escaped. 
 
 After Zaidie was promoted to the third floor, 
 the original occupants had all the delights of 
 a bear-garden. It was fortunate for her long- 
 suffering family that Zaidie was seldom ill, for 
 she was the hardest possible child to take care 
 of when she was. When she was well, she was 
 sunny-tempered, like the rest. She was harder 
 now than she would have been otherwise, for 
 really the poor little thing was dismally home- 
 sick for her little twin, her other self, from 
 whom she had scarcely ever been separated an 
 hour in her life. 
 
 After two days of Zaidie's confinement up- 
 stairs, Eunice and Cricket were in such a state 
 of exasperation and excitement over the poor 
 little thing's constant wailing and fretting for 
 Helen, her refusing to be comforted or amused, 
 that it was plain she must have a room to her- 
 self. Marjorie was detailed to look after her 
 especially.
 
 66 EUNICE AND CRICKET. 
 
 Marjorie, it fortunately chanced, had had the 
 mumps when she was small. Moreover, Zaidie 
 was passionately attached to this eldest sister of 
 hers. When the little twins were born, Mar- 
 jorie, aged nine, had eagerly begged that, since 
 mamma had two babies now, she might have 
 one of these to "call hers." Mamma let her 
 choose, and her selection instantly fell upon the 
 big, black-eyed baby, which appealed to her 
 childish heart much more than the tiny, violet- 
 eyed one, that was so delicate that for a year it 
 was scarcely out of its mother's or its nurse's 
 arms. 
 
 Marjorie had always petted Zaidie after that, 
 and made much of her" and called her " her 
 baby," and the strong-willed little maid obeyed 
 Marjorie better than any one but her father and 
 mother. Marjorie delighted in her, because she 
 was such a fine, noble-looking child, with her 
 erect, firmly-knit little figure, her short, silky 
 black hair, her great, dark eyes, and peachy 
 complexion. She loved to take her to walk, for 
 strangers would turn and look after her, or per- 
 haps stop and ask whose child she was. 
 
 Helen, with her dainty beauty, her fluffy 
 golden hair, and tiny figure, was not nearly so
 
 IN QUARANTINE. 67 
 
 striking-looking, though, after all, her caressing, 
 lovable little ways made her rather the family 
 pet and baby, even more than Kenneth, with his 
 sturdy boy-ways. It is very apt to be the case, 
 however, in a large family, that each one of the 
 older ones takes a younger one under his or her 
 special charge. Thus, as Marjorie had adopted 
 Zaidie, Eunice laid claim to Helen as her baby. 
 In this same way, Cricket felt that Kenneth was 
 her particular property. 
 
 Therefore, it came about that Marjorie was 
 quite willing to undertake Zaidie's amusement, 
 but she soon discovered that a " mumpy " Zaidie 
 tried her resources to the uttermost. Mamma 
 was with her also, all she could be, but with the 
 other girls needing her also, and with Helen 
 down with an unusually bad attack of the croup 
 and fretting for Zaidie quite as much as her 
 little twin did for her, poor mamma said that 
 she needed to be three people, in order to satisfy 
 all the demands upon her. Donald, in spite of 
 his own mumps, came bravely to the rescue, but 
 Zaidie managed to keep them all busy.
 
 CHAPTER Y. 
 
 AN UNEXPECTED VISITOR. 
 
 ON the fourth day of imprisonment, Doctor 
 Ward came up after luncheon and carried mam- 
 ma, somewhat against her will, off for a drive, as 
 she had not been out of the house for a breath 
 of fresh air since the Dray ton party. Marjorie 
 was left in charge. Zaidie, just in the state 
 where she wanted whoever she didn't happen to 
 have with her, wailed disconsolately, as she 
 stood at the window watching her father and 
 mother drive off. 
 
 "I want something to 'muse me with, Mar- 
 gie. Mamma's gone and I can't see Helen, 
 and I hasn't anything to 'muse me with," 
 she sobbed, flattening her nose against the win- 
 dow pane. 
 
 "You ungrateful little wretch," said Donald, 
 trying to make a face at her, but not succeeding 
 in twisting his features much more than they 
 were already. " Here are two people devoting
 
 AN UNEXPECTED VISITOR. 69 
 
 their days and nights to keeping your highness 
 serene though I must say that I prefer to 
 be paid according to my efforts rather than my 
 success." 
 
 " If we were paid according to our success, 
 we wouldn't go to Europe on the proceeds," 
 sighed Marjorie. " See, Zaidie, there's Johnnie- 
 goat trotting down the street I do believe his 
 tail has grown a little longer. Don't you think 
 so?" 
 
 Zaidie dried one eye and peered out. In- 
 stantly she conceived an idea. 
 
 " I want to see Johnnie-goat. I hasn't seen 
 him for seventy-ten years, Marjorie. I want 
 him to come up here and see me." 
 
 " You can see him out of the window, pet. 
 He couldn't come up here goats don't know 
 anything about houses, you know." 
 
 Zaidie instantly shrieked. Three days of im- 
 mediate obedience to her demands had spoiled 
 her. 
 
 "I want him! I want him! My throat's 
 hurted me drefful, an' I want Johnnie-goat. 
 I want him up here ! " 
 
 " Great Scott, Zaidie ! stop howling. Let's 
 have him up, Meg. Anything for a diversion."
 
 70 EUNICE AND CRICKET. 
 
 " But, Don ! the goat up here ? We can't." 
 
 "In the bright lexicon of youth, there's no 
 such word as 'can't.' I'll whistle down the 
 speaking-tube to Sarah to entice him into the 
 area, and I'll go down and bring him up some- 
 how. He can't do any harm, and if it quiets the 
 kidlet for a moment, it's worth trying. Hollo, 
 there, Sarah ! " 
 
 Sarah responded, and the order was given. 
 Zaidie stopped sniffling, and watched the pro- 
 ceedings eagerly from the window. 
 
 Sarah much amazed, but too well trained 
 to question any order of Master Don's, however 
 peculiar ran out to induce Johnnie-goat, by 
 every blandishment in her power, to enter the 
 basement door. But wary Johnnie-goat, much 
 more accustomed to being driven away from 
 doors by the application of broom-sticks than 
 being volitely entreated to enter, suspected 
 treachery, and backed off, moving his lowered 
 head from side to side. 
 
 The whole " mumpy " tribe eagerly watched the 
 manoeuvres from above. Sarah would approach 
 him with an indifferent, abstracted air, as if she 
 didn't see him at all, and then would suddenly 
 make a grasp at his horns. Johnnie-goat would
 
 AN UNEXPECTED VISITOR. 71 
 
 stand with an equally abstracted gaze as she 
 came nearer ; then, at the last instant, up would 
 go his heels skittishly, and off he would go, to a 
 convenient distance, and again await Sarah's 
 approach. She displayed banana-skins tempt- 
 ingly, and drew him, by means of them, almost 
 to the area door, when the same performance 
 would be repeated. All the time she kept up 
 an uncomplimentary tirade under her breath, 
 mingled with her enticing words to him. 
 
 " Come, Johnnie ! Johnnie ! good Johnnie ! 
 Oh, yer dirty blackguard ! yer wretched spal- 
 peen, you! It's a clubbin' with a big shillaly 
 I'd be after givin' you ! Come here, yer good 
 goaty ! Come and see the purty little gal what's 
 waitin' fur ye ! Oh, the capers ! takin' that son- 
 of-a gun up-stairs ! You murtherin' wretch, I'd 
 drown yer fur a cint! Come here, good old 
 goaty ! come to Sarah ! Ach, murther, howly 
 saints ! git yer evil eye off me ! " as Johnnie 
 suddenly reared and waltzed around on his hind 
 legs, in a way peculiar to goats, presenting a 
 low-bent head threateningly in her direction. 
 
 " Get hold of him now, Sarah," shouted 
 Donald, throwing up the window for a moment. 
 " He won't really hurt you. Grab his horns ! "
 
 72 EUNICE AND CRICKET. 
 
 Here Marjorie slammed down the window 
 indignantly. Sarah, quaking with terror, but 
 feeling she must obey Mr. Donald though the 
 heavens fell, made a desperate rush and really 
 grabbed the threatening horns with a heavy 
 hand. She was big and strong, and as soon as 
 she actually touched him, her Irish blood was 
 up for a scrimmage. Even Johnnie-goat, to his 
 own intense surprise and indignation, was as 
 wax in her hands. Tucking his head well under 
 her arm, by main strength she dragged him 
 along, protesting with all his legs, to the area- 
 door. By that time Johnnie had recovered 
 his presence of mind, and then ensued a tre- 
 mendous racket that brought the waitress to the 
 rescue. 
 
 Johnnie-goat, of course, was filled with amaze- 
 ment at these strange proceedings, and his shrill 
 " ba-a's " went all over the house. Sarah and 
 Jane dragged him, struggling fiercely, along the 
 basement hall to the stairs. Then Sarah, getting 
 him by his wrathful horns, and Jane pushing 
 from behind, wherever she could get hold, 
 puffing and panting, they propelled bewildered 
 Johnnie-goat remorselessly up the stairway, his 
 sharp little hoofs beating a strongly rebellious
 
 AN UNEXPECTED VISITOR. 73 
 
 tattoo as he went, bleating like a whole ranch 
 of goats. 
 
 Over the stair-railing, on the upper floor, 
 hung five eager faces, each of the older ones 
 calling out different suggestions, while Zaidie, 
 her mumps all forgotten, shrieked hoarse ap- 
 plause to them all. As Eliza was out with 
 Helen and Kenneth, they missed all this excit- 
 ing time. 
 
 Arriving on the second floor, panting Sarah 
 was obliged to sit down on the stairs to rest. 
 She threw her apron over Johnnie-goat's head, 
 thereby reducing him to a still wilder state of 
 amazement, and hugged his neck tightly under 
 her arm to keep him quiet. 
 
 " Hould on to his hinder-legs, Jane," she di- 
 rected, and Jane immediately got hold of each 
 wildly kicking hind leg. As Johnnie-goat was 
 obliged to use his fore legs to stand on, he was, 
 for the first time in his life, reduced to a con- 
 dition of ignominious surrender. His vociferous 
 cries filled the house. 
 
 The children, up-stairs, were in shrieks of 
 laughter. Sarah looked as grimly determined 
 as if she were attacking a tramp. She strongly 
 disapproved of the whole proceeding, but, as is
 
 74 EUNICE AND CRICKET. 
 
 often the case with the servants in a large house- 
 hold of children, she was absolute devotion to 
 the whole tribe, and if they had ordered it, 
 would have attempted to walk up the side of 
 the house. Jane was doubled up with laughter, 
 and with difficulty held on to her end of the 
 captive. Sarah kept up a running comment. 
 
 " Be still, you slathery spalpeen ; stop kickin' 
 me. Ye've kicked me till the futs uv me is 
 black till the knee, I'll be bound. Rest yerself 
 the while; nobody's going to hurt yer. Come, 
 then, if yer wants to go, we'll be off wid yer 
 now. Take another h'ist, Jane. Shure, Masther 
 Don, its hopin' ye've got a rope up there I am, 
 else its tearin' yez all to pieces he'll be." 
 
 " Come on," shouted Donald, boyishly ; "bring 
 on your plunder. I've got a trunk-strap to 
 fasten him with." Donald dived into the trunk- 
 room, and reappeared with a long strap. 
 
 " Oh, my goodness, how he wiggles ! " cried 
 Zaidie, clapping her hands ecstatically, as the 
 procession started up-stairs again. "Johnnie- 
 goat! Johnnie-goat! keep still, and let Sarah 
 carry you, there's a good goatie ! " 
 
 And thus, pushed and pulled, Johnnie-goat, 
 bewildered and indignant, was delivered into
 
 AN UNEXPECTED VISITOR. 75 
 
 Donald's hands, and the hot and panting maids 
 returned down-stairs. 
 
 Donald fastened the long strap to his collar, 
 and then to the balustrade. Being released 
 from durance vile that is, from his enforced 
 retreat under Sarah's strong arm, he shook 
 himself vigorously, and then straightway exe- 
 cuted a war-dance, first on his hind legs and 
 then on his fore legs, and then, apparently, on 
 one at a time, alternating the performance with 
 a succession of dives and butts that sent the 
 children shrieking and laughing in all direc- 
 tions out of his way. 
 
 "Oh, my throat!" sighed Cricket, wiping the 
 tears from her eyes. "I've certainly split my 
 mumps ! Don't make me laugh so, Johnnie-goat. 
 Don't you know your friends?" 
 
 Apparently Johnnie didn't, for he instantly 
 butted fiercely in Cricket's direction. 
 
 "I do b'lieve he's hungry," said Zaidie, hos- 
 pitably offering him a newspaper. In the midst 
 of his wrath, Johnnie-goat recognised this famil- 
 iar object, and, after eying it a moment, he 
 suddenly dropped his warlike demeanour, ac- 
 cepted the paper as a peace-offering, and fell 
 to chewing as placidly as if he stood on his
 
 76 EUNICE AND CRICKET. 
 
 native heath that is, the livery stableman's 
 back yard. Under the calming influence of this 
 familiar occupation, he soon dropped every ap- 
 pearance of resentment, and finally ducked his 
 head in his usual friendly fashion, to let Zaidie 
 scratch him between the horns. 
 
 One of Johnnie-goat's accomplishments was 
 jumping over a rope held a foot from the ground. 
 Cricket now proposed to make him do it, as the 
 hall was long enough to give him a good run for 
 it. As they did not dare to let him go entirely, 
 Donald tied a long, stout cord to each side of 
 his collar, so that somebody could drive him and 
 jump the rope with him. Of course that some- 
 body was Cricket. When the reins were ready, 
 and Cricket had them well in hand, Donald un- 
 fastened the trunk-strap, and Eunice and Zaidie 
 each held an end of it in place, so that Johnnie- 
 goat could jump over it. 
 
 He knew the programme perfectly well, and 
 stood quietly while the arrangements were being 
 made. 
 
 " All ready," cried Donald, as much a boy at 
 heart as ever, in spite of his eighteen years and 
 his Freshman dignity. " Let him go, Galla- 
 gher!"
 
 AN UNEXPECTED VISITOR. 77 
 
 " Get up, sir ! " cried Cricket, shaking her 
 string reins. Johnnie-goat stood provokingly 
 still, gazing abstractedly out of the window. 
 
 " Get up, sir," repeated Cricket, giving him a 
 gentle push in the rear with her foot. 
 
 The touch gave Johnnie-goat the excuse he 
 had been waiting for. He gave one of his sud- 
 den darts, dragging the strings from Cricket's 
 hand, and was free. He pranced forward, es- 
 caping Donald's hands, knocked down Zaidie, 
 who promptly howled, and dashed into Eunice's 
 room. There he encountered a small table, the 
 contents of which were instantly strewed over 
 the floor, while the children ran screaming after 
 him. 
 
 " My work-basket ! " shrieked Eunice, darting 
 forward to rescue it, as Johnnie-goat stopped, 
 with one foot through the pretty straw cover, 
 and nibbled inquisitively at a tape measure. 
 He kicked out behind and butted in front 
 when the children tried to catch him, and then 
 turned his attention to a little silver-topped 
 emery. 
 
 " Oh, Don ! do get it ! cried Eunice, clasping 
 her hands tragically, as the emery went into 
 the capacious mouth, and Johnnie-goat medi-
 
 78 EUNICE AND CRICKET. 
 
 tatively rolled it over with his tongue, to get its 
 full flavour. 
 
 Don deftly seized Johnnie-goat's horns with 
 one hand, and bent back his head with the 
 other, pulling at the silk cord that droo'ped 
 gracefully out from his mouth thus rescu- 
 ing the emery from its Jonah-like retreat. 
 
 " Oh ! oh ! " wailed Eunice, taking the wet 
 and dirty object daintily by thumb and finger, 
 " it's all spoiled ! You bad Johnnie-goat ! Box 
 his ears, Don. Look out, Cricket, there he goes 
 at your new shoes. Do get him down stairs 
 now. Ow! there goes my Dresden pin-tray!" 
 with a shriek of despair. Johnnie-goat, whisk- 
 ing from side to side of the room, in search of 
 new excitement, had swept his bearded chin 
 over the low dressing-table, among the array 
 of pin-cushions, trays, bottles, photographs, and 
 brushes. Smash went the dainty Dresden pin- 
 tray on the floor as Eunice spoke, and Johnnie- 
 goat danced off. 
 
 " Come, you young bull in a china shop, we've 
 had enough of you," said Donald, diving after 
 him, and catching him by whatever was near- 
 est. It happened to be his tail, which was a 
 short but firm handle. Johnnie-goat whipped
 
 AN UNEXPECTED VISITOR.
 
 AN UNEXPECTED VISITOR. 81 
 
 around indignantly, and Donald grabbed at his 
 horns. 
 
 " Whistle down the tube for Sarah to take 
 him, Meg," he called. " No, stop ; I'll take him 
 down myself, the kids are out of the way. Come 
 this way, young chap," and Donald pulled and 
 hauled Johnnie, vigorously rebelling, to the top 
 of the staircase. As Johnnie looked down to 
 the floor below, possibly he regarded the stairs 
 as some curious kind of mountains, which his 
 inherited instinct made familiar, for he suddenly 
 plunged headlong down them so fast that Donald 
 lost his balance, and went heels-over-head after 
 him, goat and Freshman arriving at the bottom 
 at the same moment, in an inextricably mixed- 
 up condition. Overhead the excited girls watched 
 and screamed. 
 
 Donald unwound his long length slowly. 
 He and the goat had mutually broken each 
 other's fall, and nearly each other's necks. As 
 it happened, neither was hurt. At least, Donald 
 discovered that he was not, and as for Johnnie- 
 goat, he seemed as much alive as ever, but in 
 such a state of amazement at all the strange ex- 
 periences that he was going through, that he 
 quietly submitted to let Don lay hold of his
 
 82 EUNICE AND CRICKET. 
 
 collar, and escort him at a slow and dignified 
 walk down the next flight. 
 
 They were half-way down when there was a 
 quick click of a latch-key, and the front door 
 opened. Doctor Ward and a stranger entered. 
 Both stared in amazement. 
 
 "How under the canopy " began Doctor 
 Ward; but Donald interrupted him, explaining 
 calmly : 
 
 " Goat ran away from the Odd-Fellow's Lodge, 
 over there. The poor creature is nearly starved ; 
 I'm taking it back."
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 A PHILANTHROPIC SCHEME. 
 
 ONE morning, when the mumps were a thing 
 of the past, Eunice and Cricket walked along to 
 school arm-in-arm. Cricket swung her books, 
 as usual, by the long strap, and Eunice had hers 
 snugly tucked under her arm. Both were chat- 
 tering as fast as their busy tongues could wag. 
 As they turned around the corner into a quiet 
 street, the sound of a crying child attracted 
 their attention, though at first there was noth- 
 ing to be seen. 
 
 " There it is," said Cricket. " See that mite 
 up there." 
 
 The " mite " was a funny-looking little thing 
 about three years old, poorly dressed, bare- 
 headed, with a little flaxen pig-tail sticking out 
 behind each ear. The child stood at the top of 
 some steps, wailing steadily, and beating its lit- 
 tle blue fists against the door. 
 
 "It's been shut out, poor little thing," said
 
 84 EUNICE AND CRICKET. 
 
 Eunice, running up the steps and ringing the 
 bell, vigorously. " Wait a moment, Cricket, till 
 someone comes to the door." 
 
 The baby stopped crying and surveyed her 
 new friend with a pair of staring, pale-blue eyes. 
 
 It was certainly a very dirty baby, and Eunice 
 wondered at its belonging to such a nice-looking 
 house. Then a trim maid opened the door. 
 
 " I found this baby, here, trying to get in," 
 began Eunice, civilly, " so I rang the bell for 
 her, and waited till you came to take her in." 
 
 The trim maid surveyed the baby in indignant 
 scorn. 
 
 " It don't belong here, miss, for sure. The 
 likes o' that ! " 
 
 " Doesn't belong here ? The poor little thing ! 
 Then she must be lost. She was pounding on 
 your door and crying dreadfully. What shall 
 I do with her?" 
 
 " ' Deed, I don't know, miss," answered the 
 maid, backing away and partly shutting the 
 door, as if afraid that Eunice would insist on 
 leaving the interesting infant there. It had 
 immediately adopted Eunice as its protector, 
 apparently, for it grasped her skirt with one 
 hand, and with a thumb tucked deep into its
 
 THE LOST BABY.
 
 A PHILANTHROPIC SCHEME. 87 
 
 mouth, it stood passively staring from one to 
 the other. Somebody must do something, that 
 was clear. 
 
 " Come on," called Cricket, who had walked 
 slowly on. " Won't she go in ? " 
 
 " Come back a minute. The maid says she 
 doesn't belong here. What shall we do with 
 her ? I suppose she's lost. Can't I leave her 
 here ? I have to go to school," added Eunice, 
 turning to the girl, who had now left only a 
 crack of door open. 
 
 "'Deed, no. We didn't find her," said the 
 girl, impertinently. "It doesn't belong any- 
 where about here. Take her to the police 
 station. We can't take care of beggar's brats," 
 and with that she shut the door, leaving Eunice 
 staring as blankly at the door as the baby did 
 at her dress. 
 
 "What a horrid, cross girl!" said Eunice, 
 indignantly, at last, descending the steps slowly 
 to accommodate her steps to the short, fat legs 
 beside her. The child still clung closely to a 
 fold of her dress. 
 
 " What shall we do with it ? We'll be dread- 
 fully late for school." 
 
 " Let's take it to school," suggested Cricket.
 
 88 EUNICE AND CRICKET. 
 
 " How could we ? Baby, what is your name, 
 and where do you live ? " 
 
 Baby uttered a gurgle that doubtless meant 
 volumes, but which the girls could not interpret. 
 She was a Dutchy-looking little thing, with a 
 wide, chubby face and squat little figure. Her 
 little flaxen pig-tails were about an inch and a 
 half long, and were tied with white string. 
 
 " Shall we take her to the police station ? 
 Let's hurry, whatever we do. It's 'most nine." 
 
 " The police station ? and have the poor little 
 atom locked up in a big, black cell ? " exclaimed 
 Eunice, indignantly. " Never ! " for her ideas 
 as to the exact advantage of taking a lost child 
 to a police station were somewhat vague. 
 
 " Let's take her to the little bake-shop wo- 
 man by the school, and leave her there for the 
 morning, anyway. I'm sure she'll take care 
 of her. We'll take her home after school, and 
 papa will see about her." 
 
 Eunice assenting to this proposal, they now 
 took up the line of march. People glanced and 
 smiled at the funny, dirty baby, with the hand- 
 kerchief that Eunice tied over its head, and 
 the two well-dressed children, but they did not 
 notice it
 
 A PHILANTHROPIC SCHEME. 89 
 
 " Eunice, we might adopt it ! " cried Cricket 
 suddenly. " Wouldn't that be fun ? It could 
 play with Kenneth, and 'Liza wouldn't mind 
 one more child to take care of." 
 
 "What fun!" exclaimed Eunice. "And if 
 'Liza didn't want the trouble we could do it our- 
 selves. It could sleep in a crib in our room. 
 I'd wash it one morning, and you could the 
 next." 
 
 "Yes, and we'd spend Saturday mornings 
 making its clothes." 
 
 " And we'd take it to walk when we got home 
 from school 
 
 " And we'd teach it its letters " 
 
 " And put it to bed " 
 
 " Would we have to spank her if she was 
 naughty ? " 
 
 " Oh, do let's beg them to let us have it for 
 our very own, and bring it up ourselves. Would 
 you like to live with us, baby ? " 
 
 The possibility of a distracted mother, search- 
 ing around for the child, somehow never occurred 
 to the girls, in their planning about the little 
 waif, and they chattered on, in their eagerness, 
 till they reached the shop of the little baker, 
 with whom they meant to leave the child.
 
 90 EUNICE AND CRICKET. 
 
 The good-natured little woman, who knew 
 the children well by sight, was quite interested 
 in their story, and was entirely willing to take 
 charge of the lost baby till one o'clock. She 
 was an ignorant little German woman, and she 
 never thought of telling the girls to send it to 
 the police station to be kept till its friends could 
 look it up. 
 
 The thought of the baby kept the girls ex- 
 cited alh the morning. After school they started 
 off immediately, without waiting, as usual, for 
 their friends. The baby recognised Eunice as 
 soon as she appeared, and pulled her dress 
 delightedly. 
 
 " Could you lend us something to put on her 
 head ? " asked Eunice, eyeing the flaxen pig-tails 
 doubtfully. " My handkerchief makes her look 
 so queer, and I'm afraid she'll take cold without 
 anything over her head." 
 
 The little bake-shop woman good-naturedly 
 produced a very remarkable-looking cap of her 
 own baby's, and tied it on the little waif's head. 
 
 "I haf ask her the name," she said, as she 
 tied the strings, " but I no unnerstan' her. She 
 try to talk, but she yust 
 
 " Jabbers," said Cricket. " I should say she
 
 A PHILANTHROPIC SCHEME. 91 
 
 did. Good-by ! Thank you ever so much for 
 taking care of her for us." 
 
 When the girls arrived at home they found a 
 free field. Mamma had gone to Marbury to 
 spend the day with grandma, and had taken 
 Kenneth with her. Marjorie was out to lunch 
 with a friend ; and papa, Jane said, had been 
 unexpectedly called out of town an hour ago, 
 and would not be back that night. They took 
 the baby up to the nursery, and introduced their 
 prize to astonished 'Liza and the twins. 
 
 " But you can't keep it," said 'Liza. " I jest 
 guess its poor mother is running all around the 
 streets looking for it." 
 
 "Oh, do you think so?" said Eunice sur- 
 prised. " Why, I never thought of her. Well, of 
 course, papa will advertise the baby, and do 
 everything about it, but if we don't find anyone 
 belonging to her, we are going to keep her, 
 Cricket and I." 
 
 Whereupon 'Liza pretended to faint away. 
 
 The twins were perfectly delighted with the 
 addition to the family. 
 
 " It's just like the little boy we finded once," 
 piped up Zaidie, " only it's a girl. Auntie 
 wouldn't let us keep it."
 
 92 EUNICE AND CRICKET. 
 
 " This is a really, truly, losted baby, though, 
 and Phelps wasn't," explained Helen. " He had 
 only runned away." 
 
 The " losted baby " here took its thumb out 
 of its mouth, and suddenly began to cry. 
 
 " It's hungry ! " announced Cricket, with the 
 air of one discovering America. " What do you 
 s'pose it can eat, 'Liza ? " 
 
 " 'Most anything it can get, I rather guess,' 1 
 said 'Liza. " That kind generally does, and is 
 glad to get it, too." 
 
 "She isn't 'that kind,'" said Cricket indig- 
 nantly, resenting the tone. " Come, baby ; we'll 
 go down-stairs and get some bread and milk. 
 You 'ittle tunnin' sing ! " as the baby stopped in 
 its howl as suddenly as it had begun, and trotted 
 away contentedly with the girls. 
 
 Cook duly exclaimed over " the find," but she 
 reiterated the advice of the cross maid, and 
 recommended them to take the baby to the 
 police station. 
 
 " Why does everybody want to send this poor 
 little mite to the police station ? " cried Eunice. 
 " It hasn't done a thing, only got lost, and 
 prob'ly it didn't want to do that ; and everybody 
 wants to shut it up in a big, black cell. Papa
 
 A PHILANTHROPIC SC1IKMK. 93 
 
 can advertise it when he gets home, if he likes, 
 and if anybody comes for it they can have it. 
 If no one does come, we'll keep you ourselves ; 
 won't we, baby ? Drink the milk, now." 
 
 " Wish we knew its name," said Cricket. 
 
 " Let's name it something ourselves," sug- 
 gested Eunice. 
 
 " To be sure. Don't you know when Pharaoh's 
 daughter found Moses she named him Moses, 
 herself? Oh, Eunice, let's call her Mosina!" 
 
 " Oh, Cricket, how lovely ! Just the thing ! 
 We didn't find her in the bulrushes, but we 
 did find her on some steps. Oh, you darling 
 Mosina ! I hope your mother won't come for 
 you ! " 
 
 When the new arrival had finished her 
 luncheon, and the children had had theirs, they 
 carried Mosina off to their room. Zaidie and 
 Helen immediately came toiling up from the 
 nursery, to help entertain their guest. Fortu- 
 nately she was not at all shy, and jabbered and 
 gurgled in her unintelligible baby talk, showing 
 the greatest readiness to be amused. 
 
 "La! she's awful dirty," said Eliza, looking 
 in on them presently. "I wouldn't touch her 
 with a ten-foot pole."
 
 94 EUNICE AND CRICKET. 
 
 " Let's wash her, and dress her up in Ken- 
 neth's things," cried Cricket, straightway catch- 
 ing hold of Mosina, who speedily stood arrayed 
 only in her own rosy skin; for the dirt which 
 'Liza had exclaimed at, was really chiefly on her 
 hands and face. 
 
 Eunice drew the water in the bathtub, and all 
 four, with great laughing and excitement, super- 
 intended a very thorough scrubbing process, to 
 the infinite amazement of the small child, who 
 had probably never been so scrubbed before since 
 she was born. 
 
 There was a small bruise on one side of the 
 round, dimpled thigh, that presently caught 
 Zaidie's attention. 
 
 " Here's another dirt-spot, Eunice," she said, 
 with an air of much importance at the discovery. 
 It was so delightful to be the scrubber instead 
 of the scrubbee. She seized the nail-brush, and 
 squeezing in under Eunice's arm, began vigor- 
 ously applying it to the baby's soft flesh. That 
 small person instantly howled again. 
 
 " Stop, Zaidie ! that isn't dirt, it's a bruise," 
 said Eunice, taking the nail-brush away. " Can't 
 you tell the difference ? " 
 
 " Not unlets I poke 'em," said Zaidie, looking
 
 A PHILANTHROPIC SCHEME. 95 
 
 surprised. " When I have one I always poke it, 
 and if it hurts I know it's a bruise. If it doesn't 
 I guess it's dirt. I couldn't tell it on the baby, 
 could I ? " 
 
 "You had better experiment on yourself," 
 said Cricket, laughing. " There, Miss Mosina, 
 you're pretty clean now, I think. Let's take 
 her out, Eunice. Put down the big bath-towel, 
 Zaidie." 
 
 Baby had endured the process in awed silence 
 thus far, but when she stood dripping like a 
 little cupid on the bath-towel, she patted her 
 round, fat legs with every appearance of de- 
 light, and even attempted to climb back into the 
 tub. It was probably her first experience of a 
 plunge. 
 
 " You cunning thing ! " cried Eunice, as rap- 
 turously as if she had never seen a small child 
 tubbed before. " Cricket, won't you run and ask 
 'Liza for some of Kenneth's clothes? I don't 
 want to put her dirty ones on her again." 
 
 Cricket ran off and presently came back, 
 laughing. 
 
 " 'Liza says she couldn't dress such little 
 beggars in gentlemen-folkses' children's clothes, 
 but finally she let me have these old ones, that
 
 96 EUNICE AND CRICKET. 
 
 mamma had put by to give away. Let me see ; 
 where do you begin ? " 
 
 "I know," said Zaidie; and by the united 
 efforts of all four, Mosina was presently arrayed. 
 
 This process had taken up a great part of the 
 afternoon, and at this moment, Marjorie, who 
 had just returned, came running up-stairs. 
 
 " Oh, have mamma and Kenneth come back 
 so early?" she said, catching sight of a tiny 
 figure in a familiar blue dress. 
 
 " No, but this is our new baby, and we're 
 going to adopt it, if its mother doesn't come 
 for it ; and I don't much believe she will, for it 
 was pretty dirty, and probably she doesn't care 
 for it much, so Eunice and I are going to keep 
 it," poured out Cricket in a breath. 
 
 Marjorie dropped against the newel-post. 
 
 " Adopt it ? What, in the name of common 
 sense, are you talking about, Cricket ? Where 
 did the atom come from ? " 
 
 "We found her in the street this morning," 
 explained Eunice, " and we couldn't find any- 
 body that belonged to her, so we had to bring 
 her home, Marjorie. We couldn't leave her to 
 starve, could we ? Poor little mite ! she was 
 freezing cold."
 
 A PHILANTHROPIC SCHEME. 97 
 
 Mosina, quite aware that she was under dis- 
 cussion, clung to the dress of her first friend, 
 sucking her thumb, and staring from one to the 
 other with her solemn blue eyes. 
 
 " But, my dear children," began Marjorie, in 
 a very superior, elder-sisterly tone, " that is per- 
 fectly absurd/ With all the raft of children wo 
 have now. we can't adopt a whole orphan asylum. 
 Besides, her mother will be looking for her ; 
 probably she is nearly frantic. You must send 
 her to the police station." 
 
 " There ! " cried Eunice, aggrieved, " that old 
 police station again ! Everybody says that. As 
 if I would have this cunning thing, that loves me 
 so, shut up in a horrid old black cell. Why, 
 she'd be as afraid as anything." 
 
 " They don't put lost children in cells," began 
 Marjorie, and then stopped, not quite certain 
 what they did do with them. " At any rate, 
 you ought to take her there. People always 
 do." 
 
 " I shan't do it," said Eunice, stoutly. 
 
 " And, Marjorie, she'd be frightened to death 
 among all those big men," expostulated Cricket. 
 " We have just got to keep her." 
 
 "Then I'll tell you what I'll do," compro-
 
 98 EUNICE AND CRICKET. 
 
 mised Marjorie. "I'll send Jane around to the 
 police station, and tell them she's here, and de- 
 scribe her, and leave our address. If any one 
 comes, they can send here." 
 Just then the door-bell rang.
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 MOSINA. 
 
 IN a moment, Jane came up with a telegram 
 from mamma, saying that she would stay in 
 Marbury all night, as it looked like rain, and 
 Kenneth had a slight cold. 
 
 The children looked at each other in blank 
 dismay. Mamma's absence, for one night, really 
 made no difference at all, but they felt as if the 
 bottom had dropped out of the house. Of course 
 mamma had not known of papa's absence for the 
 night, as he had been telegraphed for after she 
 had left in the morning. 
 
 Conscientious Marjorie looked as if the affairs 
 of the nation rested on her shoulders. 
 
 " Oh, dear me ! " she sighed. " And this baby 
 on my hands." And then she explained to Jane 
 about the police station, and what she wanted. 
 
 " Now, if the child is to stay here to-night, we 
 must arrange about its sleeping," she added. 
 
 " In Kenneth's bed," piped up Zaidie.
 
 100 EUNICE AND CRICKET. 
 
 " I'll see 'Liza about it," said Marjorie, turn- 
 ing to the nursery. "Take her up-stairs, Eu- 
 nice, do, and keep her amused till dinner." 
 
 " I'll tell you, Miss Marjorie," said 'Liza in 
 confidence, " them children have the notion of 
 adopting that baby. Of course it's all nonsense, 
 but you let 'em have her in their room to-night, 
 and they'll get off the notion. Tell 'em I can't 
 have the bother of it here. 'Course I'll sleep 
 with one ear open, and if they get into trouble, 
 I'll go up." 
 
 " Very well, 'Liza, I'll do that," said Marjorie, 
 turning away. 
 
 Eunice and Cricket proclaimed themselves 
 perfectly delighted with the arrangement. It 
 was just what they meant to do, anyway. 
 
 "Of course, Marjorie, if we adopt the baby, 
 we'd expect to take all the care of it, you 
 know," said Cricket. "'Liza has enough to do 
 with the younger ones ; 'course she'll sleep here. 
 Eunice, you can have her half the night, and I'll 
 take her the other half." 
 
 " I may forget to wake up," objected Eunice. 
 " Suppose I take her to-night into my bed, 
 Cricket, and you take her to-morrow night. 
 There's the dinner-bell. She can stay in the
 
 MOSINA. 101 
 
 nursery with 'Liza and the twins, and get her 
 supper, while we're at dinner." 
 
 "Come, Mosina," said Cricket. "Oh, Mar- 
 jorie, I forgot to tell you, we named her Mosina, 
 after Moses." 
 
 " You are the most ridiculous children about 
 names," said Marjorie, laughing. " Come to 
 dinner now. After dinner let us try that duet, 
 Eunice." 
 
 Marjorie and Eunice were both musical, and 
 each played exceedingly well for their respective 
 years. Although Cricket loved music, she had 
 no aptitude for the piano, and her lessons had 
 been discontinued. Instead, her talent for her 
 pencil was being cultivated. But all the chil- 
 dren were more or less musical. Marjorie and 
 Eunice both had very good voices, and, with 
 Donald's aid, they often practised trios, as well 
 as duets by themselves. 
 
 After dinner, Marjorie and Eunice played 
 duets for a time, but Eunice was so impatient 
 to get back to her adopted baby, and made so 
 many mistakes, that presently Marjorie, in dis- 
 gust, sent her off. The two younger girls im- 
 mediately flew up to the nursery. 
 
 'Liza was getting the twins ready for bed,
 
 102 EUNICE AND CRICKET. 
 
 and gave Eunice some night-things of Kenneth's 
 for her charge, together with a shower of in- 
 structions for the night. Then the children car- 
 ried off the baby, nodding and heavy-eyed, but 
 quiet and stolid still. 
 
 With much giggling and fun, and a feeling of 
 immense importance, the two girls finally had 
 Mosina undressed and ready for bed. By this 
 time she was almost asleep on their hands. 
 
 " Just see this room ! " exclaimed Eunice, 
 looking about her, after the infant was safely 
 tucked away in her cot. " Doesn't it look as if 
 a cyclone had struck it ? It's more mussed up 
 than the nursery ever gets with all three chil- 
 dren there." 
 
 " We'll put it in order to-morrow, for it's 
 Saturday, and we'll have plenty of time," said 
 Cricket, gathering up the baby's things with a 
 sweep of her arm, and putting them on a chair. 
 " Come on down-stairs again. Doesn't it seem 
 grown-up and motherly just to turn down the gas 
 and go down and leave the baby asleep ? Won't 
 mamma be surprised when she comes home ? " 
 
 " We must listen to see if she cries," said 
 Eunice, beginning to feel the responsibility of a 
 family.
 
 MOSINA. 103 
 
 The children went down-stairs again, to the 
 back parlour, where Marjorie was deep in to- 
 morrow's trigonometry. They each took a book 
 and pretended to read, but each found herself 
 starting up at every sound, and asking each 
 other if that was the baby's voice. A dozen 
 times Eunice tiptoed to the front hall and stood 
 listening at the foot of the stairs, with a queer 
 feeling of the necessity of keeping very quiet, 
 although she certainly had never felt that neces- 
 sity with the twins or her small brother. A 
 dozen times Cricket started up, fancying she 
 heard a little wail from above. 
 
 " Dear me ! " sighed the latter, at last, " I 
 know now what mamma means by saying she 
 sleeps with her ears open. I have one. ear up- 
 stairs, and the other on my book, and I've read 
 this page six times, and I have forgotten to turn 
 over." 
 
 " It shows your distracted condition, if you 
 are trying to read with your ears," Marjorie 
 stopped her studying to observe. " Don't bother 
 about that infant, girls. She's all right. Tm 
 only thinking about her poor mother. Jane 
 said there had been no inquiries at the police 
 station."
 
 104 EUNICE AND CRICKET. 
 
 " Everybody's been firing that police station at 
 our heads all day," said Eunice, " but I couldn't 
 bear to have the poor little thing put in a cell." 
 
 " But they don't put lost children in cells, 
 goosie," said Marjorie. " I suppose they have a 
 woman to take care of them. They send to the 
 Central Office and tell them they have a lost 
 child there. Then anybody who has lost a child 
 goes to the nearest station and tells about it. 
 Then they send to the Central and ask if a lost 
 child has been reported there, and then they tel- 
 egraph back if it has, and the parents go and 
 find it, wherever it is. You know I sent to the 
 station to say it is here." 
 
 " How very simple," said Eunice, thoughtfully. 
 " I wish we had known that this morning. I 
 didn't think about the mother's part of it, as I 
 do now. How we would feel if Kenneth was 
 lost for even an hour." 
 
 " Come, Eunice," said Cricket, shutting her 
 book with a slam. " Let's go to bed. I've had 
 such an exciting day that I'm just reeking with 
 sleep. Good night, Meg." 
 
 " Good night, and take care of your infant." 
 
 The children tiptoed into their room, and 
 turned up the gas a very little.
 
 MOSINA. 105 
 
 " Do look at that child," said Eunice, stopping 
 short. 
 
 Certainly if Mosina was quiet by day she 
 plainly made up for it at night. She had twisted, 
 and wiggled, and kicked, till the clothes were 
 lying in every direction, and she herself was 
 curled into a little ball at the foot of the bed, 
 with her beloved thumb tucked into her mouth 
 as far as it would go. 
 
 " How shall we get her back again without 
 waking her ? Would you dare lift her ? " 
 
 " We'll have to. You can't sleep without any 
 clothes over you, can you ? Come up here, you 
 rascal," and Cricket lifted the small round ball 
 gently in her arms and laid her, right side up, at 
 the other end of the bed. Baby settled down 
 with a gurgle. 
 
 After the girls were in bed, and silence and 
 darkness had reigned for ten minutes, Eunice 
 suddenly remarked : 
 
 "Do you know, Cricket, I never realised 
 before how small this cot is. This midget 
 seems to take up all the room. She slips right 
 down into the middle." 
 
 " Sleep on the other side," murmured Cricket, 
 drowsily.
 
 106 EUNICE AND CRICKET. 
 
 " I can't very well sleep on both sides of her 
 at once ; I'll move her along once more." 
 
 Silence again, broken by a sudden grunt from 
 Eunice. 
 
 " Ugh ! she's planted her feet whack in my 
 stomach. Cricket, she flops just like a little 
 fish. I never know where she's going to land 
 next; and she's a regular windmill with her 
 arms. There she comes, whack, on my nose 
 again." 
 
 " Tell her to stop," advised Cricket, in 
 far-away tones. 
 
 " Much good that would do ! Now, you mid- 
 get, get over on your own side, and stay there ; " 
 and Eunice, having lost all fears of awakening 
 her protege*, placed her with much firmness 
 back on the other side. 
 
 Poor Eunice ! As the cot was only three feet 
 wide, and as she was entirely unaccustomed to 
 sleeping with any one, much less a wriggling, 
 squirming baby, she naturally found her present 
 experience rather a trying one. She listened 
 enviously to Cricket's even breathing, which 
 showed that she was safe in the Land of Nod ; 
 but when she herself was almost there, a tiny 
 foot or hand was suddenly planted on her, or
 
 MOSINA. 107 
 
 the soft, round little body came rolling over, 
 and landed plump upon her. 
 
 " 0A, DEAR ! " cried Eunice at last, in despair- 
 ing capitals, "how do mothers ever sleep at 
 night, if their babies sleep with them ? " 
 
 She stretched herself on the outermost limit 
 of her cot, after pushing Mosina well along to 
 the other side. For a time quiet reigned, and 
 Eunice's heavy eyelids fell. She was peacefully 
 sailing away to dreamland, when suddenly a 
 thud and a roar awakened them. Of course 
 Mosina had fallen out of bed. 
 
 " Cricket ! Cricket ! do get up and light the 
 gas ! I'm afraid to get out for fear I'll step on 
 her. Do hurry, Cricket ! " 
 
 Cricket tumbled sleepily out of bed and 
 groped for the matches, which hung in a little 
 swinging receiver on the gas-jet. She hit it 
 accidentally, and every match went flying to the 
 floor. Meanwhile Mosina steadily roared. Eu- 
 nice leaned over the edge and felt around for 
 her. 
 
 " Where have every one of those plaguey 
 matches gone ? " demanded Cricket, with em- 
 phasis, groping around on her hands and knees, 
 and hitting every kind of object save a match.
 
 108 EUNICE AND CRICKET. 
 
 Just at that moment Eliza, aroused by the up- 
 roar, appeared, carrying a candle. 
 
 " The baby fell out of bed," explained Eunice, 
 somewhat unnecessarily, springing out of bed 
 herself as the welcome light appeared. Mosina 
 lay sprawled on her back, kicking her fat legs, 
 and screaming lustily. 
 
 " ' Tain't hurt, by the way it cries," said 
 Eliza, picking up the baby with a practised 
 hand. " It's mad. There now ! 'sh ! hushaby ! 
 Where was it sleeping, Miss Eunice ? " 
 
 " Here in my bed. Cricket, perhaps it would 
 be better to take half a night apiece instead 
 of every other night. I want some sleep. She 
 thrashes like a whale. I'm all black and blue 
 where she has punched me." 
 
 By this time Mosina, hushed in Eliza's arms, 
 had gradually ceased crying and was shutting 
 her sleepy eyes again. 
 
 " Yes, give her to me," said Cricket, hopping 
 into bed, and holding out her arms. " Isn't she 
 soft and warm, though. She's just like a little 
 hot- water bag. I'll put you on the side next the 
 wall, you cunning thing, so you can't fall out 
 again." 
 
 Eunice jumped into bed and drew up the
 
 MOSINA. 109 
 
 blankets with a perfect groan of relief, and Eliza 
 departed, leaving them in darkness and quiet 
 again. 
 
 " If she kicks very hard, Cricket, I'll take her 
 back, after I've had a little snooze but 
 I'm so " and Eunice dropped off, even as she 
 spoke. Cricket cuddled the baby in her arms, 
 where it actually lay still for a minute or two, 
 and Cricket improved the opportunity to go to 
 sleep herself.
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 A BEDFELLOW. 
 
 Two or three hours passed, and the household 
 were all asleep ; Cricket, in the intervals of her 
 disturbed dreams, had fished her little charge 
 up from her feet, and extricated her from an 
 amazing tangle of sheets and blankets. She had 
 awakened from an oppressive dream of drowning 
 to find the baby sprawling over her chest, with 
 both legs around her neck. She had patiently 
 restored her each time to her own corner. At 
 last, thoroughly tired out with this unaccustomed 
 wakefulness and responsibility, she fell into a 
 sleep much heavier than usual, regardless of 
 Mosina's continued antics. 
 
 At last a strange, new sound slowly penetrated 
 her consciousness, and she gradually awakened 
 to the fact that there had been a queer, wheez- 
 ing noise close to her ear for some time. Still 
 dazed with sleepr, she lay bewildered for a mo- 
 ment or two, till it suddenly dawned on her
 
 A BEDFELLOW. Ill 
 
 that the queer noise came from the small atom 
 at her side. Mosina was wheezing and choking 
 in a way that became more alarming every 
 moment. 
 
 " Eunice ! Eunice ! " cried Cricket, suddenly 
 realising that something was seriously wrong; 
 " for goodness sake, wake up ! Something's the 
 matter with the baby ! " 
 
 " In a moment, " answered Eunice, sleepily, 
 thinking that she was being called to breakfast. 
 
 "Eunice, get up! Run for 'Liza! Baby's 
 dying!" 
 
 "What?" cried Eunice, startled into full 
 wakefulness. "Oh, Cricket! What is it? What 
 awful noises ! " 
 
 "I don't know what's the matter," said 
 Cricket, feeling her way to the gas again. 
 "Oh, do hurry! Here, you light it, and I'll 
 go." And Cricket flew away barefooted. 
 
 In a moment she was back again, and directly 
 after 'Liza appeared, in a trailing flannel wrapper 
 and felt shoes. 
 
 " Croup ! " she had exclaimed to herself, as 
 she heard the wheezing noises away down-stairs. 
 " A bad case, too," she added to herself, as she 
 entered the room.
 
 112 EUNICE AND CRICKET. 
 
 Eunice had the gas lighted, and the two 
 shivering, frightened little girls hung over the 
 cot, where the baby lay fighting for breath, 
 with that dreadful, whooping noise that mothers 
 know and dread. Eliza came forward quickly : 
 although she had not much head for any emer- 
 gencies out of her own line, she was a good 
 and efficient nurse where children's ordinary ail- 
 ments were concerned. 
 
 "Put on your dressing-gowns and slippers," 
 she ordered the children, she herself flying to 
 the wash-stand, and wringing out a towel in cold 
 water. " Run up-stairs, Miss Eunice, and wake 
 Jane, and tell her to go for Dr. Townsend. 
 Pass me a flannel petticoat out of your drawer, 
 Cricket, please. I dasn't wait to go to the 
 nursery for things." 
 
 The children flew on their respective orders, 
 and in a twinkling Eliza had a cold compress 
 on the baby's chest, well protected by Cricket's 
 blue flannel petticoat. 
 
 Jane appeared a few moments later, ready 
 to go for the doctor, and Marjorie, aroused by 
 the voices and general commotion, came flying 
 up-stairs. 
 
 " Them big, fat children always has croup
 
 A BEDFELLOW. 113 
 
 dretful," said Jane cheerfully. "Like as not 
 she'll die." 
 
 " Die !" echoed 'Liza, scowling at her. " You 
 get along, Jane Lackett, and bring that doctor, 
 and tell him Doctor Ward's away ; and don't let 
 the grass grow under your feet, neither." 
 
 " Oh, 'Liza, will she die ? " whispered Cricket, 
 clinging to Eliza's hand. 
 
 " Oh, lawks ! I guess not, honey ; byt she's 
 fair to middlin' sick. Helen ain't nothin' to her. 
 Never heard a worse wheezin'. S'pose she's took 
 a fine cold this morning, runnin' round without 
 any hat on." 
 
 It was dreadful to the girls, who had never 
 seen a bad attack of croup before, to stand there 
 helplessly, and watch the little creature fight- 
 ing for breath, every respiration coming with a 
 long whoop that seemed to tear the little frame 
 apart. 
 
 " Can't you do anything, 'Liza ? " begged Mar- 
 jorie. " It's dreadful to see her suffer so. 
 Aren't there any medicines to give her ? " 
 
 " Yes, Miss Marjorie ; there's syrup of squills. 
 It's in your ma's medicine chest. No ; it's all 
 out, I know. I'll give her some vaseline, if 
 you'll get some."
 
 114 EUNICE AND CRICKET. 
 
 " Make her eat that stuff ! " exclaimed 
 Cricket. "Why, it will choke her! Don't 
 do it. It's cruel ! " 
 
 But Eliza, unheeding, took a spoonful of vas- 
 eline, and opening the baby's already gasping 
 mouth still further, put the soft, slippery mass 
 down the poor little throat. 
 
 Presently the doctor came, and to the chil- 
 dren's amazement, he nodded approvingly over 
 the vaseline. Then he ordered them all off to bed. 
 
 " Go and finish the night in mamma's bed, 
 you and Cricket," suggested Marjorie. " 'Liza, 
 I'll be on the lookout for our children, since my 
 room is next to theirs, and you must stay here. 
 Is the baby very sick, doctor ? " 
 
 " It's a pretty bad attack, but nothing to 
 be frightened about," said the doctor cheerily. 
 " But who in the world is the youngster ? " 
 
 While Marjorie explained, Eunice and Cricket 
 crept off to mamma's room, and tucked them- 
 selves into her wide bed, feeling as if they had 
 been through a lifetime's experience since nine 
 o'clock that night. How delightfully peaceful 
 and care-free it seemed to settle down without 
 anyone to look after but themselves. 
 
 " Really, Cricket, it may sound funny to you,"
 
 A BEDFELLOW. 115 
 
 said Eunice, squeezing her sister, " but I feel as 
 if I had had babies in my bed for years. It 
 actually seems funny not to feel her squirming 
 around." 
 
 " And I'm very sure, for my part, that adopt- 
 ing babies is not what it's cracked up to be," 
 returned Cricket, decidedly. " Eunice, don't let 
 us adopt her, even if her mother doesn't come 
 for her. Mamma can, if she wants to, or papa 
 can find somebody else to. I think we hav6 
 enough children, anyway." 
 
 " She would take a lot of time," asserted 
 Eunice. 
 
 " Yes ; and think of dressing her every morn- 
 ing ! " added Cricket. 
 
 " And having her sleep with us, and kicking 
 us black and blue every night ! " said Eunice 
 feelingly. 
 
 " Yes, and keeping us awake. Wonder how 
 the poor little thing is." 
 
 " The doctor and 'Liza will take care of her. 
 Listen, Cricket! There's the clock actually 
 striking two o'clock ! Mercy ! were we ever 
 awake so late before?" 
 
 " Never. I feel forty-six years older than I 
 did last night, don't you, Eunice ? "
 
 116 EUNICE AND CRICKET. 
 
 But a grunt was Eunice's only answer, and 
 Cricket speedily followed her to the Land o' 
 Nod. 
 
 The doctor and Eliza had a busy hour over 
 the baby, and at the end of that time it was 
 sleeping quietly, and the night was finished in 
 peace and quiet. 
 
 It was very fortunate that Eliza was the 
 most patient, long-suffering nurse imaginable, 
 for she accepted Mosina as a temporary inmate 
 of the nursery the next day as a matter of 
 course, and looked after her as carefully as 
 after the other children. Jane made another 
 visit to the police station, after breakfast, but 
 only brought back the information that no lost 
 child had yet been reported. 
 
 Papa returned about luncheon time, and to 
 his great amazement, was presented to the new 
 member of his family. 
 
 " We thought at first we'd like to adopt her, 
 but we've come to the conclusion we don't care 
 much about it," confessed Eunice frankly, at the 
 end of her tale ; " at least, we don't if she has to 
 sleep with us." 
 
 " Because, papa," chimed in Cricket, " you 
 see, she's the restlessest, squirmiest child you
 
 A BEDFELLOW. 117 
 
 ever saw. Oh, yes; she looks mild enough 
 now, but if you felt her wiggle just one night, 
 you'd believe it." 
 
 " You both of you look as if you had been on 
 a prolonged spree," said Doctor Ward, pinching 
 the rather pale cheeks of his two ex-philanthro- 
 pists. " Never mind, I'll look out for the baby. 
 Somebody will be sure to turn up for her." 
 
 And somebody did. About seven o'clock 
 that evening, the somebody marched up the 
 steps and rang the bell furiously. It was a 
 distracted little Dutch woman, who in broken 
 English demanded her baby. Mosina was 
 brought down, but after the first little gurgle 
 of pleasure at seeing her mother, sucked her 
 thumb as placidly as ever, while her mother 
 hugged and kissed her rapturously, pouring 
 forth a stream of mingled Dutch and English. 
 It was some time before she was calm enough 
 to explain the situation. 
 
 She went out to work by the day, when she 
 could, and, when she was at work, would often 
 leave the baby at her married sister's for two 
 days at a time, as the sister lived at a distance, 
 and she would sometimes be too tired to go for 
 her at night. The day before, she had taken
 
 118 EUNICE AND CRICKET. 
 
 her there as usual. However, the little thing 
 must have slipped out and run after her, and 
 the sister thought the mother had taken her, 
 after all. She had to go to work at a place 
 on the other side of the city for two days, and 
 so had not gone for the child the night before, 
 thinking, of course, she was safe, as usual. She 
 was wild with terror when she went there and 
 found that her sister thought she had the child 
 with her. They went immediately to a police 
 station, and soon had the necessary information 
 of the baby's whereabouts. 
 
 The little Dutch mother was overwhelmed 
 with gratitude at the kindness and care her 
 baby had received. She said that the little 
 thing often had croup, and very bad attacks, 
 too. 
 
 Mamma, who had returned from Marbury 
 just before dinner, began to talk quietly to the 
 excited little woman, and learned her story. It 
 was very short and very simple. They had 
 come over to this country two years before, and 
 did well till her husband was killed by an 
 accident a few months previous. She spoke so 
 little English that it was hard for her to get 
 work, and their little savings slipped away
 
 A BEDFELLOW. 119 
 
 quickly. Now she was anxious for all the work 
 by the day she could get. 
 
 Mrs. Ward listened sympathisingly, promised 
 to speak to her friends about her, and gave her 
 a bundle of Kenneth's clothes to take home, 
 besides the ones that Mosina was then arrayed 
 in. 
 
 " So you don't want to go into the orphan 
 asylum business ? " said papa, pulling Cricket's 
 curls, when the excitement was all over, and 
 Mosina and her mother had departed, laden 
 down with bundles. 
 
 " I think I might like it," said Cricket, medi- 
 tatively, " if only I didn't have to sleep with the 
 orphans."
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 CHRISTMAS HOLIDAYS. 
 
 CHRISTMAS time was approaching, and the 
 Wards' house was to be full to overflowing of 
 young people for a week or two. Donald was 
 to have a college friend of his with him for 
 several days. Eunice and Cricket were to have 
 their little Kayuna friends, Edith Craig and 
 Hilda Mason, to visit them ; and, at the last 
 moment, Mrs. Somers had written, begging that 
 Will and Archie might be taken in, if pos- 
 sible, as Edna had just come down with scarlet 
 fever, and they had to go away. Five extra 
 people in an already rather full house made a 
 great deal of planning and arranging necessary, 
 but I almost think that the children enjoyed 
 the bustle it all made as much as the expected 
 visit. 
 
 Donald had an extra bed put up in his room 
 for his friend. Eunice was to share the spare 
 room with Edith Craig, and Hilda was to have
 
 CHRISTMAS HOLIDAYS. 121 
 
 Eunice's cot, according to the first plan; but 
 when Will and Archie had to be arranged for, 
 inamma could think of nothing else to do but to 
 give them the girls' room, and put up two more 
 cots in the spare room fortunately a large one 
 so that all four girls could sleep there. The 
 children were ready to stand on their heads 
 with delight at this arrangement. 
 
 "So boarding - school-y !" beamed Cricket, 
 surveying the room, when the beds were all 
 ready. It looked, for all the world, like a hos- 
 pital ward. "0A, what fun we'll have! You 
 were such an angel, mamma, to arrange for us 
 all to be together." 
 
 " I hope I won't regret it," said mamma, 
 laughing, but looking a little dubious. 
 
 "Indeed, you won't," promised Eunice. 
 " We'll be good, truly. Only it will be such 
 fun to plan jokes on the boys; and they can't 
 do much to us when we are all together, you 
 see." 
 
 "Emember, I don't like practical jokes, 
 dear," said mamma. " They are dangerous 
 things." 
 
 " Oh, we'll tell you all the things we do," 
 promised Cricket, " and we truly won't do any-
 
 122 EUNICE AND CKICKET. 
 
 thing you think we'd better not. Please don't 
 say we can't play any jokes." 
 
 Christinas fell on Thursday, and the guests 
 were to arrive the next day. Christmas itself 
 was the gala day it always is in a house full of 
 happy young people. It began, of course, with 
 the usual excitement over the stockings, big and 
 little, that hung on the back-parlour mantel. 
 Then there were the presents that were too big 
 to go into stockings to be oh-ed and ah-ed over. 
 Then came the church service and the Christ- 
 mas dinner, and in the evening, a little party at 
 a neighbouring house. 
 
 The girls from Kayuna arrived Friday after- 
 noon. Doctor Ward took Eunice and Cricket to 
 the station to meet them, and in due time four 
 broadly smiling girls walked into the house, 
 where the little guests were warmly welcomed 
 by mamma and Marjorie. 
 
 Edith Craig was a tall, fine-looking girl, a 
 year older than Eunice, and, being the eldest of 
 five children, she was very mature for her years. 
 She was really very companionable for Marjorie 
 as well as for Eunice. Cricket she regarded as 
 a mere infant, and her motherly ways towards 
 that young lady were very amusing. All the
 
 CHRISTMAS HOLIDAYS. 123 
 
 family were very fond of Edith, however; she 
 was a bright, jolly, sensible girl, who seemed 
 equally happy whether she was exchanging con- 
 fidences with Eunice, or sitting with Mrs. Ward 
 and chatting over her embroidery, or romping 
 with Cricket, or giving Doctor Ward intelligent 
 attention when he was talking of some late medi- 
 cal discovery, or playing duets with Marjorie, or 
 frolicking with the children in the nursery. A 
 well-bred, adaptable girl is always charming. 
 
 Cricket thought that Hilda had grown very 
 much in the four months since she had seen her, 
 but her bronze curls were as smooth, and her 
 clothes as trim, and she was as plump and 
 pretty as ever. 
 
 The little hostesses had planned enough for 
 the ten days' visit to fill a month, as children 
 generally do; but that was very much better 
 than not having enough to do. Saturday, the 
 first day, was a lovely beginning, for Mrs. Dray- 
 ton had planned one of Emily's pleasant little 
 matine'e parties. Ten children, including the 
 four of the Ward party, were invited to lunch 
 with Emily and go to the matine'e afterwards, to 
 see " Robin Hood." This was an especially great 
 treat for Eunice and Cricket, for they were
 
 124 EUNICE AND CRICKET. 
 
 seldom allowed to go to the theatre, and their 
 little guests rarely had the chance. The lunch 
 was perfect; Mrs. Drayton and Emily were as 
 delightful as they always were ; " Robin Hood " 
 was charmingly given, and the day was a per- 
 fect success. 
 
 They found when they reached home that 
 Will and Archie had just arrived, and as Don- 
 ald's friend had come also, the whole party col- 
 lected around the dinner table. 
 
 Doctor Ward looked around beamingly on the 
 flock, as he flourished his knife over the big 
 turkey. 
 
 " Cricket, this is an improvement on your 
 orphan asylum, I think," he said. " How is it ? 
 Do you prefer the babies ? " 
 
 " I really think, now that I've had experi- 
 ence," said Cricket reflectively, " that I like 
 middle-aged people, like ourselves, better. We 
 aren't so much trouble, I'm sure." 
 
 There was a shout at Cricket's " middle-aged 
 people." 
 
 " I mean people who aren't little things, like 
 Zaidie and Helen, or grown up, like mamma," 
 explained Cricket defensively. " Just scattered 
 along, like all of MS, I mean."
 
 CHRISTMAS HOLIDAYS. 125 
 
 The days flew by on wings. Edith was suf- 
 ficiently companionable to Marjorie for the 
 latter to be included in many of the little do- 
 ings that mamma planned for the younger girls. 
 Will and Archie sometimes accompanied them 
 also, and sometimes were off on their own 
 account. 
 
 Archie was as much of a tease as ever, and 
 with the four girls right under his thumb, so to 
 speak, he had a most congenial employment in 
 tormenting them. Indeed, the various tricks 
 on both sides formed a large part of the enter- 
 tainment. 
 
 The second night of his arrival, Archie care- 
 fully made apple-pie beds, in which he was an 
 adept, for the occupants of the spare room, and 
 the girls soon found it wisest not to go to bed 
 on any night without carefully examining every- 
 thing in the room. One night all the sheets 
 were thickly strewn with salt, which, being white, 
 did not show at a casual glance, but was pain- 
 fully apparent when they lay down. Again, 
 he cut up the splints of a number of whisk 
 brooms, and the straws he scattered on the 
 mattress under the sheet. Did you ever go to 
 bed under the same circumstances? It is not
 
 126 EUNICE AND CRICKET. 
 
 comfortable. Another night, he lined the pil- 
 low-cases with white paper, carefully basted on 
 the ticking. Once, by an ingenious arrangement 
 of some nails tied together with string and hung 
 outside the window one windy night, a weird 
 sound, like a clanking chain, was made, and the 
 girls had a lively hunt for the mysterious noises 
 that kept them all awake. 
 
 Mamma watched the fun carefully, but let 
 them go on, as long as it was all good-natured. 
 And indeed, the girls found many a way to re- 
 pay their ingenious tormentor. They sewed up 
 the sleeves of his night-shirt securely, not only 
 of the one he was wearing, but of all he had 
 with him, and Will's also, lest Archie should 
 borrow. They filled his tooth-powder bottle 
 with soda, and stuffed the fingers of his best 
 gloves with cotton. 
 
 One night, when Archie had been particularly 
 bad all day, Cricket took her revenge by creep- 
 ing stealthily into his room after he was asleep 
 having been kept awake herself, for the pur- 
 pose, by the united efforts of the other three 
 and very cautiously pasted postage stamps over 
 his eyelids. Like most boys, when once asleep, 
 he rivalled the " Seven Sleepers," and he never
 
 CHRISTMAS HOLIDAYS. 127 
 
 stirred during the performance. Adorned with 
 the stamps, he peacefully slept on all night, while 
 Cricket jubilantly crept back to bed. By morn- 
 ing, the stamps stuck as tightly as if they had 
 been nailed there. 
 
 When Archie awoke, to his horror, he could 
 not open his eyes. He felt of them, but the 
 stamps stuck so close that he could not imagine 
 what was the matter, and called out in alarm to 
 Will. Will, of course, when he once opened his 
 own sleepy eyes, was nearly in convulsions of 
 laughter over the blue one-cent stamp adorn- 
 ment on Archie, but, in pretended fright, advised 
 him not to touch his eyes till he could call his 
 uncle. He summoned Doctor Ward in hot haste. 
 Archie, really much disturbed in mind over this 
 strange disorder, was lying perfectly still when 
 his uncle entered. The doctor, entering into 
 the joke, told him that it was nothing serious 
 yet, only a strange growth that had come during 
 the night perhaps from cold and he would 
 get his surgical instruments and remove it. 
 Archie groaned at the sound, but his uncle as- 
 sured him that it would not hurt him much, 
 if he kept perfectly quiet and did not touch his 
 eyes, while he got his instruments. Then the
 
 128 EUNICE AND CRICKET. 
 
 doctor stepped to the bath-room, and came l)ack 
 with a sponge and warm water, and, after much 
 preparation, he began swabbing Archie's eyes, 
 talking all the time, till Archie was nearly 
 frantic. 
 
 " By Jupiter, uncle ! How long will I have 
 to keep my eyes bandaged after this operation ? 
 What ails the confounded things, anyway ? They 
 feel all right, now, if only I could get them 
 open." 
 
 "There!" said his uncle at last, "now try, 
 very carefully, if you can open your eyes. 
 Slowly, mind." 
 
 Archie raised his eyelids, and looked about 
 him. 
 
 "Why, they're all right," he cried in great 
 surprise. " They don't hurt a bit. Did you 
 cut something off, uncle ? Didn't it bleed ? 
 Here, you idiot," to Will, who was rolling 
 on the floor in convulsions of laughter, 
 " what's the matter with you ? " 
 
 "Oh! oh!" gasped Will. "Did it bleed, 
 uncle ? That's too much ! The dear, brave lit- 
 tle boy ! He never whimpered." 
 
 Archie, in a state of raging indignation, flung 
 a pillow at him.
 
 CHRISTMAS HOLIDAYS. 129 
 
 " You old lunatic ! " 
 
 Doctor Ward held up one of the stamps by 
 a pair of nippers. 
 
 "A nocturnal visit of a certain household 
 insect, usually harmless, is plainly the cause 
 of your trouble, my boy," he said, "but as 1 
 told you, I do not consider it serious. Bathe 
 your eyes in warm water. Also, I recommend 
 temporary seclusion, and the cultivation of a 
 calm and forgiving frame of mind." 
 
 Another pillow went whack at Will, as a 
 partial relief to Archie's helpless rage. He 
 only wished he dared throw one at his uncle, 
 as Doctor Ward went out, laughing. 
 
 No remarks were made at breakfast time 
 relative to the situation. Archie gazed haugh- 
 tily past Cricket, and devoted himself ostenta- 
 tiously to Hilda, whom, usually, he rather 
 snubbed. Like most people who love to tease, 
 he could not easily endure a joke on himself. 
 So he scorned Cricket's overtures of peace, and 
 even meditated refusing to join the skating party 
 planned for that day. The skating party, how- 
 ever, had been in prospect for several days, and 
 as even Donald and his friend, Mr. Herrick, were 
 to join it, Archie could not quite make up his
 
 130 EUNICE AND CRICKET. 
 
 mind to this sacrifice, even for the sake or pun- 
 ishing Cricket. In this trait Zaidie and Archie 
 were comically alike. Both usually took revenge 
 by making themselves thoroughly uncomfort- 
 able. 
 
 " I suppose Archie will treat me with an air 
 of cold familiarity all day," said Cricket, in 
 confidence to Will, as he took her skates, and 
 Archie walked on ahead with Hilda. Hilda 
 was delighted. Archie had usually so little to 
 say to her. 
 
 Will went off in a shout of laughter at Crick- 
 et's remark. She thought it was at the memory 
 of the morning. 
 
 " I don't think he ought to mind just a little 
 joke like that, when he just piles jokes on other 
 people," went on Cricket, in an injured tone. 
 " Look at all the things he's done to us, and we 
 smile at him just the same." 
 
 The skating party was a grand success. They 
 went out of town, on the street cars for several 
 miles, to the lake, which was a glittering sheet 
 of ice. The day was clear and not too cold. 
 Everybody skated well, but Archie particularly 
 excelled. He was up in every kind of fancy 
 figure, and in the delight of showing off, his
 
 * 
 CHRISTMAS HOLIDAYS. 131 
 
 wounded feelings were gradually soothed at 
 least outwardly. 
 
 " But I'll get even with that little minx," he 
 said, grimly, to himself. " She's altogether too 
 fresh," forgetting, as practical jokers generally 
 do, that he had had the first innings. 
 
 They returned home in time for half past one 
 luncheon, with the appetites of anacondas. No 
 one noticed that Archie whipped into the dining- 
 room, instead of going up-stairs with the others, 
 when they first came in, chattering, and laugh- 
 ing, and glowing with exercise. In ten minutes 
 time the luncheon-bell rang. 
 
 " Waffles ! hurrah ! " cried Will, boyishly, as 
 Jane brought in his favourite dish. 
 
 "Auntie, you're a brick ! " chimed in Archie. 
 " Miss Scricket, don't you take all this syrup on 
 yours, for I want some myself, and there isn't 
 much in the syrup jug," and Archie peered in. 
 
 "You don't need any, being so sweet your- 
 self," returned Cricket, pouring out a liberal 
 supply of the clear, delicious-looking syrup from 
 the jug that stood by her plate. 
 
 The next instant the family were startled by 
 a most unmannerly gulp from Cricket, who 
 clapped her hands over her mouth and bolted
 
 132 EUNICE AND CRICKET. 
 
 from the table without the ceremony of an 
 " Excuse me " to mamma. Everybody looked 
 after her in surprise; then mamma, excusing 
 herself, hastily followed her to the butler's 
 pantry, whither she had retired. The sickest, 
 forlornest-looking child imaginable held up a 
 white face. 
 
 "It was the syrup," she managed to say 
 "It's sour or something. Oh, I'm so sick at 
 my stomach ! " 
 
 Not waiting to investigate the matter at that 
 moment, mamma called Sarah, who carried poor 
 little Cricket up-stairs in her arms. A very 
 unhappy hour followed. As soon as mamma 
 could be spared, she flew down-stairs to the 
 dining-room. 
 
 Archie stood by the window, drumming on the 
 window-pane. He turned around as his aunt 
 entered. 
 
 "Yes, I did it," he said. "It's castor-oil. 
 I slipped in and emptied the syrup jug just be- 
 fore luncheon, and put some castor-oil in, out 
 of a bottle in uncle's office. It won't hurt her, 
 will it? I didn't think she'd get more than a 
 taste of the stuff." 
 
 " It's nothing serious, only you've given poor
 
 CHRISTMAS HOLIDAYS. 133 
 
 little Cricket a pretty bad quarter of an hour, 
 my boy. It chances that oil of any kind, even 
 salad oil, makes her deathly sick. She never 
 eats salad or lettuce, if it is dressed; but of 
 course you did not know that." 
 
 Archie looked uncomfortable. 
 
 "Of course I didn't, auntie, or I wouldn't 
 have been such a brute." 
 
 " Surely not. It was just the ' chances of 
 war.' It is always so with practical joking. 
 Each goes a step farther than the other, till 
 some one generally the weaker party gets 
 the worst of it. Suppose you drop it now, 
 dear ? " 
 
 " See here, auntie," said Archie, awkwardly, 
 "I you know well, Cricket really owes me 
 one now. Let her go on and do me up, if she 
 wants to. I'd a jolly lot rather she would ; 
 and I won't do another single thing after that. 
 Did she bluster much ? " 
 
 " No," said Mrs. Ward, smiling. "Cricket is 
 always ' game,' as you boys say, and would not 
 let me blame you. But let me say one more 
 word, my lad. Since you love to play jokes and 
 tease people, as well as you do, don't you think 
 you might be a little generous, and let them
 
 134 EUNICE AND CRICKET. 
 
 have the same sport with you, without losing 
 your temper ? Turn about is always fair play, 
 my boy." 
 
 Archie looked slightly shame-faced a most 
 unusual state of affairs for him. But, as Mrs. 
 Ward never nagged the children, a few words 
 from her always had their due weight. 
 
 In a couple of hours, Cricket was ready to 
 join the girls, who were clustered about the 
 cosy open fire in mamma's room, laughing and 
 chattering over their embroidery. Now that 
 the violent nausea, which the least taste of oil 
 always gave her, was over, Cricket was rather 
 disposed to look upon the whole thing as very 
 funny, after all. She was really rather amazed 
 when the girls sympathised with her and ener- 
 getically heaped abuse upon Archie. 
 
 " It wasn't anything," she insisted. " I'd 
 have done it myself, if I'd have thought of it. 
 Of course it isn't very pleasant to have your 
 stomach sick at itself; but he didn't know I 
 don't like oil. But, oh, mamma, I've thought 
 of such a nice little trick to play on him now ! " 
 
 "It's time to stop, dear," said Mrs. Ward. 
 " Don't let's carry it any further." 
 
 " Please, mamma, it's such a little joke, and it
 
 CHRISTMAS HOLIDAYS. 135 
 
 wouldn't hurt him a bit ; and I do think he de- 
 serves a good taking-down," pleaded Cricket. 
 " He'll crow over me, always, if I don't ; he'll 
 call me 'fraid cat,' and I'm not a ' 'f raid cat ; ' 
 I'll leave it to anybody." 
 
 " Let's hear the joke," said mamma judicially, 
 remembering Archie's own words ; and Cricket 
 unfolded her little scheme. 
 
 " I thought of that when I was sickest," she 
 finished triumphantly. And mamma said she 
 might do it. 
 
 That evening the boys had planned to go and 
 make a formal call on May Chester. Formal 
 calls were rather a new experience for both of 
 them, and each felt as important as a little dog 
 with a new collar. They went up-stairs, to get 
 ready, directly after dinner, and were gone an 
 unconscionably long time. 
 
 " I know those- boys will try to sneak down- 
 stairs, and get out without being seen," said 
 Eunice, getting impatient for their appearance. 
 
 " They can't do it. I'm on the lookout with 
 my little eye," chirped Cricket, from the porti- 
 eres. " Isn't it funny how ashamed boys always 
 are of being dressed up ! 'Sh ! there they come 
 now. Edith, you know you're to go out and
 
 136 EUNICE AND CRICKET. 
 
 ask them to come in a moment. They won't 
 suspect you." 
 
 " Slip out in the hall as if you were looking 
 for something, and meet them by accident," 
 advised Eunice. 
 
 Edith obediently sauntered out into the hall, 
 and met the boys as directed. After a moment's 
 conversation, she succeeded in coaxing them 
 into the parlour, for approval from the family. 
 Archie came in with a lofty expression, as if 
 making formal calls on young ladies, with pale 
 yellow kid gloves on, was an everynight affair. 
 Will looked somewhat conscious. 
 
 " Is that your new suit, Archie ? " asked Mrs. 
 Ward. " How well it fits ! " 
 
 " Seems to me," said Cricket, screwing up her 
 face critically, " it sort of wrinkles across the 
 shoulders," patting his back patronisingly. 
 
 Archie wheeled around to a mirror hastily. 
 
 " Wrinkles, Miss Scricket ! You ought to be 
 wrinkled yourself! It fits like a a house- 
 afire," he said indignantly, nearly twisting his 
 neck off. 
 
 " And we all know how perfectly a house- 
 afire fits," observed Marjorie. 
 
 Cricket continued patting Archie's back, and
 
 CHRISTMAS HOLIDAYS. 137 
 
 smoothing out imaginary wrinkles. By the time 
 he had reached the doorway she had succeeded 
 in what she was trying to do, for as he went 
 out, after waving a light yellow hand patronis- 
 iugly to the girls, there was pinned across his 
 back a broad slip of paper with good-sized 
 printed letters on it : 
 
 "I'm such a little boy; please to send me 
 home early." 
 
 " There ! " remarked Cricket with much satis- 
 faction, as the front door shut, " I think Archie 
 will be pleased to have May Chester see that. I 
 winked at Will he won't tell; and he helped 
 him on with his overcoat very carefully. I 
 peeked to see." 
 
 " I'd like to see his face when he finds it out," 
 said Hilda. 
 
 " Oh, wouldn't 1 ! " cried Cricket fervently. 
 " And, mamma, Archie can do anything he likes 
 to me now I won't pay him off again. I'll 
 tell him so." 
 
 Half an hour later, Donald came in. 
 
 " Here's something I picked up on the door- 
 step," he said. " Probably a circular or some- 
 thing thrown down. Why, what's this ? " 
 
 He held it up. A burst of laughter from the
 
 138 EUNICE AND CKICKET. 
 
 girls greeted it. It was that identical paper, 
 which had probably been rubbed off by the over- 
 coat, and had worked down. 
 
 Cricket looked perfectly blank for a moment, 
 and then joined in the laughter. 
 
 " If Archie only knew it," she cried, 
 " wouldn't he crow ! Joke's on me now, for 
 
 sure 
 
 t "
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 THE BOY. 
 
 MBS. WARD came to the luncheon table the 
 next day, holding up three pink tickets. 
 
 "A treat for the musical ones," she said, 
 gaily. " Mrs. Chester has just sent around these 
 tickets for the matinee performance of that lit- 
 tle musical wonder, this afternoon. For some 
 reason they are unable to use them." 
 
 " Hurrah ! " said Marjorie, clapping her hands 
 in true Cricket fashion, " I've been dying to 
 hear him. Oh, Edith, people say he's the 
 greatest dear!" 
 
 " I thought you and Edith and Eunice could 
 go, dear," said Mrs. Ward. "You will" enjoy it 
 better than the younger ones." 
 
 " But don't you want to go yourself, mam- 
 ma ?" asked Eunice, quickly. 
 
 " No ; for you know papa and I heard him, 
 two weeks ago, when we were in New York. 
 He certainly is a wonder, Edith. I don't care
 
 140 EUNICE AND CRICKET. 
 
 much about prodigies, as a rule, but his playing 
 is very wonderful. New York was wild over 
 him." 
 
 "I've wanted to hear him so much," said 
 Edith, enthusiastically. " It's perfectly lovely ! " 
 
 " Then I'll take you two down-town with 
 me," said Mrs. Ward to Cricket and Hilda. 
 " Will it be too cold for ice-cream ? " 
 
 The three matine'e girls got off in good time. 
 As they entered the lobby, they encountered 
 Mrs. Drayton. 
 
 "I'm so glad to see you, girls," she said, in 
 her cordial way. " I came early, and have been 
 waiting here in hope of seeing some of you. I 
 am going to the dressing-room, to see the little 
 pianist, during the intermission, and I thought if 
 I could find any of you, you would like to go 
 too." 
 
 The girls fairly gasped. To go behind the 
 scenes into that wonderful, mystical dressing- 
 room, and actually see and touch a real, live 
 individual that came out on the stage and 
 played ! Could it be true ? 
 
 "Oh, Mrs. Drayton!" they all cried, breath- 
 
 " I have seen him several times," Mrs. Dray-
 
 THE BOY. 141 
 
 ton went on. " The little fellow, with his father 
 and some others, lunched with us yesterday. 
 He is a perfect little dear. Just as childlike 
 and sweet as if he never had been before the 
 public at all." 
 
 Mrs. Drayton's husband, though a prominent 
 lawyer, was a fine amateur violinist, and he 
 kept closely in touch with all musical matters. 
 His house was always a centre for amateur 
 musicians, and he often entertained professionals. 
 
 " How lovely of you, Mrs. Drayton ! " ex- 
 claimed Marjorie, enthusiastically. " It will be 
 just delightful to see that cunning thing off the 
 
 This bit of thoughtfulness was just like Mrs. 
 Drayton. 
 
 " I have a little box of toys for him," she 
 went on, showing the corner of a white paper 
 parcel under her long cloak. "We will take 
 them in to him during the intermission. Where 
 are your seats, Marjorie ? Let me see your 
 tickets. Oh, yes. Fortunately, they are near 
 mine. You can get up and come out into the 
 aisle when I do." 
 
 In due course of the programme, the marvellous 
 ten-year-old came forward to take his place at
 
 142 EUNICE AND CRICKET. 
 
 the piano, looking ludicrously tiny among the 
 big German musicians. The grand piano seemed 
 to swallow him up as he stood by it for a 
 moment, bowing in a grave, self-possessed, yet 
 childlike manner, in response to the applause 
 that greeted him. He had a sweet, serene 
 little face, with dark brown hair falling over 
 his forehead. His broad lace collar made him 
 look still younger than he really was. 
 
 He turned, after his bow, and climbed upon 
 the piano-stool, settling himself with his small 
 hands folded in his lap. Then he awaited the 
 signal to begin, as composedly as if no large 
 audience listened breathlessly for his first notes. 
 
 When the number was finished, he turned 
 sidewise on the stool, and bowed to the audi- 
 ence, with his little feet swinging. At the 
 renewed applause, he slipped down, bowing with 
 a funny, quaint little gesture of his hands, and 
 then turned and climbed to his perch again. 
 Some one had started to lift him up, but he had 
 put him aside with a dignified little motion. 
 After the third number, his last in the first 
 part, he slipped down again, made a hasty little 
 bow, and scampered away like a flash, amid 
 mingled laughter and applause.
 
 THE BOY. 143 
 
 At last came the intermission. Mrs. Drayton, 
 followed by the girls, made her way to the 
 dressing-room. She was well-known to the 
 attendants, so she had no difficulty. 
 
 The Boy, the marvellous little musician, sat 
 on the floor playing with a little train of cars 
 that went choo-choo-ing over the carpet, pro- 
 pelled by steam made from real water in the 
 tiny boiler. 
 
 " Look out for my cars there," he exclaimed, 
 with a funny, foreign accent, as his visitors 
 entered, not even glancing up at them in his 
 absorbed interest. The lad's father stood by 
 the door. 
 
 "Get up, my son, and greet these gracious 
 ladies," said the father, in German, as he 
 turned and spoke to Mrs. Drayton, himself. 
 The Boy got up lingeringly, with a most bored 
 expression, but his face changed and brightened 
 as he recognised his kind friend, with whom he 
 felt quite well acquainted. He sprang forward 
 quickly, and, throwing his arms about her neck, 
 he kissed her repeatedly in his pretty, foreign 
 fashion. The girls looked on, amazed enough 
 that he proved to be just an ordinary, every-day 
 little boy.
 
 144 EUNICE AND CRICKET. 
 
 " I thought we'd find him reading Beethoven's 
 life, or, at least, studying the score," whispered 
 Marjorie to Edith. " Just imagine that genius 
 sitting down on the floor and playing cars ! " 
 
 " I've brought these young ladies to see you," 
 said Mrs. Drayton, putting the little fellow 
 down. " Will you kiss them, dear ? " 
 
 Marjorie and Edith and Eunice, all awe-struck 
 at the idea of kissing a genius, bent down to the 
 dear little boy, who dutifully kissed each one of 
 them, first upon one cheek and then upon the 
 other, in foreign fashion, as if it were a per- 
 formance he was very used to. 
 
 " What have you brought me ? " he demanded, 
 in German, of Mrs. Drayton, standing before her 
 in boy fashion, with his small feet somewhat 
 apart, and his hands deep in his pocket. 
 
 " We all spoil him by always bringing him 
 something, I suppose," said Mrs. Drayton to the 
 girls, laughing at his tone, as she laid the box 
 she had brought in his hands. He eagerly tore 
 off the paper and the cover. The box contained 
 a curious mechanical toy, which the Boy seized 
 with delight. He immediately sat down on the 
 floor to examine it. 
 
 Just at this moment, the strains of the violins
 
 THE BOY. 145 
 
 sounded again, and the call-boy came to say 
 that he must go in a moment. 
 
 The Boy uttered an impatient exclamation 
 that was equal to " Oh, bother ! " in English, 
 but he paid no other attention to his summons. 
 His father was talking to Mrs. Drayton, and 
 did not hear the call-boy enter or leave. 
 
 In a moment, the call-boy came again. 
 
 " Can't they wait a minute ? " the Boy de- 
 manded impatiently, in English, which he spoke 
 very well. " I must get this together. It's 
 almost done." 
 
 The applause of the audience came to their 
 ears. The call-boy repeated the summons in 
 great impatience, knowing that he would be 
 scolded for presumably not having given long 
 enough notice. 
 
 u Very well," said the Boy, getting up reluc- 
 tantly. "Please go not till I return, gracious 
 ladies. I will play fast. I do so much wish to 
 see this strange thing together," and off the 
 child scampered, leaving the three girls staring 
 in amazement at the remarkable manners of a 
 prodigy. 
 
 " He's a real little boy," said Edith, drawing 
 a long breath of surprise. " To see him playing
 
 146 EUNICE AND CRICKET. 
 
 with these toys, and then imagine what he can 
 do with those wonderful little fingers of his! 
 Listen ! " as the wonderful strains floated in. 
 
 "Isn't he a darling?" exclaimed Marjorie 
 enthusiastically. " He isn't spoiled a bit ! " 
 
 The boy's father had left the room, and Mrs. 
 Drayton joined the girls. 
 
 " He is very carefully managed and trained," 
 she said. " He is allowed to see very few peo- 
 ple, on the whole, and as he has played before 
 an audience ever since he was five years old, it 
 is nothing to him. They want to keep him 
 simple and unspoiled." 
 
 If the girls had been in their seats, they would 
 have been amused to see the Boy come half run- 
 ning on the stage. He made a funny little side- 
 wise bow, and climbed upon the piano stool. 
 He had already kept the audience waiting a full 
 minute, but he placidly took up a programme that 
 lay on the piano, ran down it with his finger, 
 found the place, creased the paper across, laid 
 it down, and instantly was the inspired little 
 musician again. It was a magnificent con- 
 certed piece, and the programme announced that 
 the child had seen it, for the first time, the day 
 before, but his tiny fingers interpreted the large,
 
 THE BOY. 147 
 
 grave measures in a way that held the great 
 audience breathless. In a long, elaborate bit, 
 that belonged to the first violin, he would sound- 
 lessly follow the notes with the fingers of one 
 hand, as if in pure enjoyment of the swift 
 motion. 
 
 The selection came to an end at last, with a 
 grand succession of chords. The instant the last 
 notes had died away, the child slipped down, and 
 ran away without his bow, befpre any one could 
 stop him. He darted into the dressing-room. 
 
 "Are you here yet, gracious ladies ? " he said, 
 breathlessly. " I'm so glad ! Now I want to 
 get this together ; I don't play next time. Do 
 you hear the clapping ? They want me to come 
 back and play again, but I shan't till it's time. 
 See ! this is the way it goes ! " 
 
 Just then, amid the prolonged applause of the 
 audience, some one came to lead him back to 
 make his acknowledgments, and play again. 
 
 " I don't want to, now, and I shan't" he said, 
 positively. " It isn't my turn. Let the next one 
 play." 
 
 Another messenger arrived, here, with orders 
 for him to come at once, as the applause renewed 
 itself, growing still more insistent.
 
 148 EUNICE AND CRICKET. 
 
 " I'm busy," the Boy said, sitting still. Just 
 then his father came in, and bade him go at 
 once. Reluctantly he put down his plaything, 
 and went off to the stage. He made his way 
 down the centre, between the musicians, bowing 
 this way and that, and making his funny little 
 foreign gestures with his hands. The applause 
 redoubled at the sight of him, and a shower of 
 flowers fell about him. He picked up a big bou- 
 quet of roses, that fell at his feet, and then say- 
 ing perfectly distinctly to the first violin : 
 
 " There ! that's all I'm going to do," he 
 marched off again. Everybody laughed and 
 applauded, although, of course, only the nearest 
 musicians heard what he said. The conductor 
 gave the signal for the next number, and the 
 performance went on. By this time, Mrs. Dray- 
 ton had taken the girls back to their seats. 
 
 After the last regular number of the pro- 
 gramme, some musician was invited to come 
 from the audience and give the Boy a simple 
 theme for him to improvise upon. At this 
 request, a well-known amateur musician, an old 
 resident of the city, came forward, and went 
 upon the stage. He was a tall, peculiar-looking 
 man, with long hair lying on his shoulders. He
 
 THE BOY. 149 
 
 sat down on the piano-stool with an odd little 
 mannerism, which he always had while playing, 
 bending his head forward in a funny, rather 
 affected way. For a theme, he played " Home, 
 Sweet Home," very slowly. The Boy listened, 
 with his head on one side, in his little, bird-like 
 manner. When Professor Sands had played 
 the air through once, he repeated it more rap- 
 idly. As he began, the boy put out his hand 
 impatiently to stop him, but the professor played 
 on. Whereupon, the Boy gave the pedal a petu- 
 lant little kick, as if to say : 
 
 " What in the world is he playing that easy 
 thing over again for ? How many times does 
 he think I need to hear a theme?" 
 
 But the professor finished it, and then 
 resigned his seat to the child. As soon as 
 he was seated, he placed his fingers stiffly 
 on the keys, with his head bent forward, in an 
 irresistibly funny imitation of the professor's 
 manner, and played the theme through just as 
 slowly as he had ; then he straightened up, 
 and darted through it again at lightning speed. 
 Next he wove it into the most elaborate impro- 
 visations, recurring constantly to the theme. 
 Whenever he played, even a dozen notes of it,
 
 150 EUNICE AND CRICKET. 
 
 he instantly dropped into Professor Sands's 
 mannerism. The audience were soon in con- 
 vulsions of laughter, and even the professor 
 himself, recognising the joke, laughed till the 
 tears rolled down his cheeks. Not a muscle 
 of the Boy's face moved. At last he flashed 
 into " Yankee Doodle," slipped again to " Home, 
 Sweet Home," playing it so swiftly that it was 
 only a ripple of melody, dropped, then, into his 
 imitation of Professor Sands again, and finished 
 with a series of chords so rich and full that it 
 seemed scarcely possible those tiny fingers could 
 evoke them. 
 
 Between laughter and applause the audience 
 made the roof ring. The Boy stood, still grave 
 and demure as always, with his folded hands 
 hanging in front of him, but those nearest caught 
 the wicked little twinkle in the dark eyes. Of 
 course, the three girls clapped their gloves into 
 rags. 
 
 " Did you ever see such a perfectly fascinat- 
 ing darling?" sighed Marjorie, in pure delight, 
 as the child was finally allowed to leave the 
 stage. 
 
 " Marjorie, do you feel that you can ever 
 touch the piano again, when you think of that
 
 THE BOY. 151 
 
 little mouse sitting up there and playing like 
 that, without half trying ? " said Edith mourn- 
 fully. " It's just just presumptuous to try ! " 
 This was said as they were coming down the 
 steps, on the way out. 
 
 " Indeed, that is never the way to feel after 
 listening to a genius," said Mrs. Drayton, cheer- 
 ily. " Certainly you cannot expect to rival 
 playing like that, but it should be an inspiration 
 to you, to lift you up, and make you do your 
 very best yourself." 
 
 " But one's very bestest is poor and weak after 
 that," said Marjorie, earnestly. " I'm simply 
 ashamed to look at a piano." 
 
 Do not feel that. Do your best faithfully, 
 and be patient with yourself. One need never 
 be ashamed of one's best. Fortunately, it's no 
 disgrace not to be a genius, which is a great con- 
 solation for all of us commonplace people. You 
 need only be ashamed of a low standard. Aim 
 high, and keep your eyes fixed on your goal, my 
 girls. That's the secret of success."
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 A VISIT TO MOSINA. 
 
 " MAMMA, may 1 take Hilda to see Mosina this 
 morning ? " asked Cricket, the next day at break- 
 fast. " The girls are going to the Museum, and 
 we don't want to go very much, and I do want 
 Hilda to see our cunning Mosina." 
 
 "Oh, I'm rather afraid, dear," hesitated 
 mamma. " You've never been there alone, 
 you know. I'm not quite sure that it's per- 
 fectly safe for you to go by yourselves. Is it, 
 papa?" 
 
 Down in Street ? Why yes I think 
 
 so. Are you sure you know the way, Cricket ? " 
 
 " Perfectly sure, papa. What harm could 
 come to us ? Do let us ! 1 know Mosina is 
 just wild to see us. Oh, Hilda, she is the cutest 
 thing ! She's just like a little roll of butter, 
 with blue buttons for eyes ; they're so round." 
 
 " Hilda, if you ever feel any inclination to
 
 A VISIT TO MOSINA. 153 
 
 adopt a little sister " began Doctor Ward, with 
 twinkling eyes, but Cricket went straight on : 
 
 " She's the fattest thing you ever saw. She's 
 all creases. She looks just as if she had strings 
 tied around her legs and arms regular cordu- 
 roy arms." 
 
 " I'd love to see her. Do let us go, Mrs. 
 Ward. We'll be very careful and not get lost." 
 
 " I think I will let you. Keep your wits 
 about you, Cricket, and don't go wandering off 
 anywhere. And I'll send a little bundle of 
 things down to Mosina's mother. By the way, 
 tell her to come up on Saturday, and I'll have a 
 big bundle ready for her. You can carry a few 
 cookies down in a little box, couldn't you, Hilda, 
 if Cricket carries the parcel ? " 
 
 The children set off on their expedition, in 
 great glee, about ten o'clock. To be sure, 
 Cricket had never been there alone before, but 
 the way was very direct and simple, and the 
 neighbourhood where Mosina's mother lived, 
 though poor, was perfectly respectable. Mrs. 
 Ward had fulfilled her promise to little Mrs. 
 Brummagen had given her work, and told her 
 friends about her, and moreover, had been to see 
 her, herself, several times. The children still
 
 154 EUNICE AND CRICKET. 
 
 called the baby " Mosina," and the child had 
 already learned to use the name herself. As 
 the children walked along, Cricket rehearsed, 
 for the third or fourth time, the story of the 
 finding and the temporary adoption of Mosina. 
 
 "She's awfully cunning, but I'm glad we 
 didn't adopt her," concluded Cricket. " She 
 would have been a lot of work. Children al- 
 ways are, I guess. I've thought, ever since that 
 night, that I wonder how mothers stand it." 
 
 " Oh, mothers are made so ! " said Hilda, com- 
 fortably. 
 
 " I wonder if that makes it really any easier 
 for them," meditated Cricket, thoughtfully 
 "Mamma says that I had colic just steadily 
 till I was about six months old, and cried all 
 the time, and would scarcely stay with the nurse 
 at all. Mamma was up with me most -every 
 night. Think of it ! And one night just used 
 me up." 
 
 " Mothers don 't mind," repeated Hilda. 
 " Mamma just loves to do things for me, so J 
 always let her," she added, superbly. 
 
 Cricket knit her brows a little, but as they 
 were already at Mosina's home, she put the 
 question away, to think over at her leisure.
 
 A VISIT TO MOSINA. 155 
 
 Mosina and her mother were delighted to 
 see their visitors. Mrs. Brummagen was hard 
 at work, washing, and Mosina was tied to the 
 door-knob by a string. This, at first sight, did 
 not seem a necessary precaution, for she was 
 sitting perfectly still, upon the floor, staring into 
 space, when the girls entered. This one little 
 room was the whole of Mrs. Brummagen's resi- 
 dence. Here she slept and washed clothes and 
 did her bit of cooking, but it was all clean and 
 tidy as Dutch neatness could make it. The 
 girls delivered the box of cookies and the other 
 things, and gave Mrs. Ward's message. 
 
 Hilda stared about her. She had never, be- 
 fore, been in the home of the very poor. 
 
 " Why, that's a bed ! Does she sleep in the 
 kitchen?" she whispered to Cricket, as Mrs. 
 Brummagen went back to her washing, and 
 Cricket lifted Mosina in her arms. 
 
 "This isn't the kitchen; it's all she has," 
 responded Cricket, in an equally low voice. 
 " Lots of people have only one room." 
 
 "Do they like it? Don't they want more 
 room ? " said Hilda, amazed ; for she always 
 found it difficult to realise that people occasion- 
 ally did things that they did not like to do.
 
 156 EUNICE AND CRICKET. 
 
 Her own experience, in that way, was very 
 limited. 
 
 " They have to do it, goosie," said Cricket, 
 who had often been with her mother to see her 
 poor people. " I like to come here. Isn't it 
 story-booky ? See this cunning thing ? Isn't 
 she clean ?" 
 
 " She is awfully fat. Can she talk ? " 
 
 " Just jabbers ; you can't understand her. 
 Say ' How do you do ? ' baby." 
 
 Mosina was a fine plaything, for she was 
 exactly like a big wax doll. The children could 
 do anything they pleased with her. 
 
 " You wouldn't think this child could be such 
 a torment at night," said Cricket, feelingly. 
 " In the daytime she is just like a lump of 
 dough. She stays just where you put her. 
 But at night oh, goodness ! she was just as if 
 she had yeast in her. I was black and blue for 
 a week after she slept with me that night. Oh, 
 weren't you bad ! " addressing Mosina, with up- 
 lifted finger. 
 
 Just then a sharp knock came at the door, 
 and Mrs. Brummagen, drying her hands on her 
 apron, hurried to open it. A messenger stood 
 there, saying that she was wanted immediately
 
 A VISIT TO MOSINA. 157 
 
 for a little extra work at the house of one of 
 her regular employers. Some servant had un- 
 expectedly left, and company was expected, and 
 Mrs. Brummagen was requested to come back 
 with the messenger for a few hours' work. 
 
 "Ach, himmel!" cried little Mrs. Brum- 
 magen, uncertainly. " What 1 do ? Mine vash 
 in ze wassa iss, und mine leetle babby alone vill 
 be. I cannot." 
 
 " But you must" said the boy, impatiently. 
 " She tole me not to come back widout yer. 
 Leave de kid wid de naybors. Yer'll be back 
 at four o'clock, she said." 
 
 " Oh, Mrs. Brummagen," said Cricket, eagerly, 
 "you go, and I'll stay with the baby. I can 
 as well as not. Mrs. Whitby lives near us, and 
 you just stop and tell mamma about it, please. 
 We'd like to, wouldn't we, Hilda ? " 
 
 Poor little Mrs. Brummagen, overwhelmed by 
 the thought of the young ladies staying and 
 taking care of her baby, and distracted by the 
 boy, who instantly urged the plan, hardly knew 
 which way to turn. Cricket and Hilda both 
 insisted loudly, the boy announced that she must 
 iro anyway, and so, before she really knew what 
 she was about, she had on her bonnet and shawl,
 
 158 EUNICE AND CRICKET. 
 
 and was borne away triumphantly by the boy, 
 protesting, all the time, that she mustn't leave 
 the clothes in soak. 
 
 Hilda and Cricket looked at each other, with 
 broadly smiling faces, when they were left in 
 possession. 
 
 " Isn't this fun ? " beamed Cricket. " I've 
 always wondered how it would seem to live in 
 one room. Just like a baby-house, isn't it?" 
 executing a war-dance around the solemn little 
 Mosina, who watched the proceedings with calm 
 interest. 
 
 Lots of fun ! " assented Hilda. " What will 
 we do about lunch ? " 
 
 " Lunch ! " replied Cricket, blankly, at this 
 practical suggestion ; " I forgot about lunch. 
 Oh, I guess there'll be something to eat in 
 the ice-box. Why, there isn't any ice-box ! 
 Well, in the cupboard then ! We'll find some- 
 thing and cook it ! Oh, ' wot larks ! ' as Archie 
 says ; " and Cricket danced gaily around Mosina 
 again, 
 
 " Lef s play we live here all the time," she 
 added, stopping, with one foot up. " I'll be 
 Mrs. Brummagen. No, I won't; I can talk 
 Irish better than Dutch, so I'll be Mrs. O'Flan-
 
 A VISIT TO MOSINA. 159 
 
 agan, sure. You can be let me see you 
 can be my daughter or my sister." 
 
 " No, I won't be either," said Hilda with dig- 
 nity. " I'll be your mother, and wear a cap, 
 and say ' Arrah go bragh,' and all those things." 
 
 " Oh, splendid ! you always do the old lady 
 parts so well," said Cricket, approvingly. " Let's 
 see what we can find for a cap. See ! here's a 
 little white skirt of Mosina's ; guess it's her 
 best one. Have you any pins ? We can pin 
 the belt together and double the skirt, and 
 here's a beautiful cap with a ruffle and all, and 
 so becoming ! " adjusting the big cap, admiringly, 
 and tucking up Hilda's long curls. 
 
 " Now pin this funny little shawl around your 
 shoulders. What a lovely grandma you always 
 make ! " 
 
 No wonder Hilda got on so well with Cricket, 
 who always made things easy for her, and loved 
 and admired her with all her unselfish little 
 soul. 
 
 " You must pin up your skirts like a washer- 
 woman," said the old lady, quite delighted with 
 her own appearance. " Now roll your sleeves 
 up. Mosina is your baby, you know, and I'm 
 her grandma. Now, what let's do ? "
 
 160 i.rxrcE AND CRICKET. 
 
 " I wonder what Mrs. Brummagen does when 
 she isn't washing ? Do you s'pose she reads ? 
 Why, Hilda, there isn't a book around ! Don't 
 you s'pose she ever reads f " with the greatest 
 astonishment. 
 
 " Probably she gets books from the public 
 library," suggested Hilda. " Anyway, I dare 
 say she hasn't much time to read. T shouldn't 
 think washerwomen people would have. Perhaps 
 she sews." 
 
 " There isn't a sign of a work-basket," said 
 Cricket, looking around with increased astonish- 
 ment. " Do you suppose this is all she sews 
 with ? " pointing to a spool of coarse white thread 
 with a big needle sticking in it, and a brass 
 thimble standing by it. 
 
 " It must be. No books and no sewing ! 
 What do you suppose she does in the evening ? " 
 exclaimed Hilda. 
 
 " It's very queer," said Cricket, thoughtfully. 
 
 Neither child, of course, had much more idea 
 of the life of the very poor than they had of the 
 habits of a kangaroo. 
 
 " But we must do something. We can't sit 
 around all day," added Cricket briskly. " Oh, 
 let's finish the washing ! "
 
 A VISIT TO MOSIXA. 161 
 
 " Do you think that'll be fun ? " asked Hilda, 
 doubtfully. The clothes are all wet." 
 
 " Well, Hilda, of course they are ! Who ever 
 heard of washing clothes in dry water ? Come 
 on ! We needn't splash much, if we're careful. 
 Yes, 1 really think we ought to do it. You 
 know she didn't want to go and leave her 
 clothes in the water. Perhaps they would get 
 rancid, or mildewed, or something." 
 
 " I don't believe I want to," objected Hilda. 
 " Ugh ! think of putting your hands into that 
 messy water ! I wouldn't do it for anything ! " 
 peering into the tub disgustedly. 
 
 " It doesn't look very appetising," said 
 Cricket, hesitating for a word. " But see ! 
 here's the wringer on this tub. She was ready 
 to wring them out. That's fun, anyway. We 
 can fish up the things with this stick, and poke 
 them in, and turn the handle and they come out 
 dry. Then we could iron them, and they'll be 
 all done when she comes home." 
 
 Hilda still looked doubtful about this form of 
 amusement, and, with her ruffled cap very much 
 to one side, she silently watched Cricket experi- 
 ment with a stick. 
 
 " These clothes are the funniest ! They don't
 
 162 EUNICE JND CRICKET. 
 
 seem to have any ends; they're all muddly/' 
 she said, fishing, vainly, to bring something out 
 of the wet mass. " Oh, I see ! They're sheets," 
 bringing one up slowly. " Shouldn't you think 
 it was for a giant's bed ? Look ! " raising the 
 sheet on the stick as far up as she could stretch, 
 while some of its slippery folds still lay in the 
 water. " Doesn't it make a good banner ? " 
 waving it slightly, to and fro. 
 
 " Look out, Cricket ! you're spattering me ! 
 Ow! look out!" and Hilda dodged hastily, for 
 the big banner overbalanced itself, and the heavy 
 sheet fell, with a splash, outside the tub on the 
 floor. 
 
 "Just like me!" lamented Cricket. "Oh, 
 Hilda, pick up the baby ! she'll be drowned in 
 all this water. How can I get this thing up ? " 
 struggling with the stick to raise the unwieldy 
 mass. This proving impossible, she picked it 
 up in her arms, getting herself delightfully wet, 
 and bundled it back into the tub. 
 
 " Your dress is a perfect mess," remarked 
 Hilda, who had put the baby on the table, and 
 was sitting on a chair beside it, with her feet 
 tucked under her, to get out of the way of the 
 water.
 
 A VISIT TO MOSINA. 163 
 
 " I know it," said Cricket, cheerfully. " Can't 
 help it. Hilda, you'll have to sit there till the 
 water dries on the floor, for there isn't anything 
 to wipe it up with. Anyway, I've found the 
 end of this sheet, now, and I'm going to wring 
 it. Isn't this fun ! It's just like a hand-organ ; " 
 and Cricket turned the handle gaily. 
 
 It was fun till the heavy folds were suddenly 
 all drawn up in a bunch in the wringer, and the 
 machine stuck. 
 
 44 Come and help me, Hilda. Tiptoe over 
 here. Oh, you can't leave the baby. Well, I'll 
 scatter it out a little." 
 
 " Scattering the sheet out " was effective, and 
 Cricket turned the crank with all her might, 
 not noticing that the long squeezed end was 
 piling up on the floor till the last corner slipped 
 through and fell down. 
 
 It's all on the floor," observed Hilda from 
 her perch. " Won't it get all dirty and wet 
 again ? " 
 
 " So it has," cried Cricket, disappointedly, 
 picking the sheet up. " Won't it brush off ? " 
 rubbing at the dirt that had collected on it, and 
 thereby making it ten times worse. " I should 
 have put something there to catch it. Why do
 
 164 EUNICE AND CRICKET. 
 
 I always think behindhand better than before- 
 hand ? How can people think of everything at 
 once ? Never mind ; I guess it will come off 
 when I iron it. I'll squeeze another; there's 
 a pan for it to go into. Don't you want to come 
 and help me ? Tie Mosina to that chair over in 
 that corner ; it's dry over there." 
 
 Fishing out the ends of the sheets and turning 
 the wringer was really great fun, and in their 
 zeal the children quite forgot Mosina for a time. 
 Suddenly a roar, behind them, startled them. 
 Mosina seldom cried, but when she did it was 
 with a ponderousness that was quite in keeping 
 with her plump body.
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 KEEPING HOUSE. 
 
 POOR little Mosina had crawled around her 
 chair till her length of string had given out, and 
 then, endeavouring to crawl between the chair- 
 legs, had fallen forward on her face, and lay 
 sprawled out like a little turtle. The girls flew 
 for her, and rescued her by drawing her out by 
 the heels. She refused to be comforted, how- 
 ever, and continued to roar. 
 
 " I suppose she's hungry," said Cricket, at last, 
 in a tone of despair. " Hilda, please look in the 
 closet and see what there is for her luncheon. 
 Mosina, do hush, baby ! What, Hilda ? " 
 
 " I said that there isn't a thing in the closet 
 but two plates and a stone mug, and such things, 
 not a single thing to eat." 
 
 " Look in that little cupboard by the chimney, 
 then. Shouldn't you. think she must have some- 
 thing to eat around ? What shall we do if there
 
 166 EUNICE AND CRICKET. 
 
 isn't anything to eat anywhere ? " in deeper 
 despair. 
 
 ' There is something here," announced Hilda, 
 joyfully, having climbed upon a chair to look in 
 the little chimney-closet. After a moment she 
 got down, soberly, and proclaimed the contents 
 of the larder to be two dried herrings, a half 
 loaf of stale bread, some doubtful-looking butter, 
 and a piece of very dry cheese. 
 
 The children looked at each other in dismay. 
 Luncheon to them seemed a very serious and 
 pressing matter, especially as Mosina was still 
 roaring, and they knew she was hungry. 
 
 " What shall we do ? " said Cricket, mourn- 
 fully ; " I feel as hungry as a bear, myself. 
 " Oh, Hilda, those cookies ! " 
 
 Hilda flew across the room for them, with 
 her cap flopping. 
 
 Cricket popped a big piece of a cookie into Mo- 
 sina's open mouth, and put another in her hand. 
 
 " Sit down on the floor now, and be a good 
 baby," she said, putting her charge down. " It's 
 dry enough. Now, Hilda, what will we eat? 
 I want something more than cookies." 
 
 " I can't eat dried herrjng," said Hilda, de- 
 cidedly, her fastidious nose going up in disgust.
 
 KEEPING HOUSE. 167 
 
 " We might toast the bread, I suppose," said 
 Cricket. "Do you think they don't ever have 
 anything but dried herring ? I've always won- 
 dered why mamma is always sending things to 
 eat to poor people, and now I know." 
 
 " Can't they cook, do you suppose, or do they 
 spend all their time washing ? " wondered Hilda. 
 " Don't you think they ever have anything to 
 eat except what people send them ? " in an awe- 
 struck tone. 
 
 " I don't believe they do. Can you cut bread, 
 Hilda?" 
 
 " Of course. Anybody can cut bread, I 
 should think ; where's the knife ?" 
 
 " I can't find any regular bread-knife," said 
 Cricket, rummaging in the cupboard. " Here's 
 ope, take this ; it's awfully dull, though. While 
 you're cutting it, I'll look for a gridiron to toast 
 the bread on." 
 
 Hilda took the loaf and the knife confidently, 
 but soon discovered that cutting bread is a fine 
 art, and not by any means so easy as it looks. 
 
 " What is the matter ? " she said in despair, 
 at last. " Well, nobody could cut bread with 
 this old knife, that's as dull as a hoe," she 
 added, surveying the jagged, uneven wedges,
 
 168 EUNICE AND CRICKET. 
 
 which were all she could manage. " Have 
 you found the gridiron?" 
 
 " No. She doesn't seem to have anything 
 except a teakettle and a saucepan. And here's 
 a flat thing like what cook fries potatoes in, and 
 here's a tin pan, and that's every single thing I 
 can find. What do you suppose she cooks 
 with?" asked Cricket, with increasing surprise, 
 and with a vision before her eyes of the quanti- 
 ties of shining utensils that lined the kitchen 
 closets at home. 
 
 "Toast the bread on a fork, then," said 
 Hilda ; " and can't we cook the herring in some 
 way ? I'm getting hungry enough to eat nails 
 now." 
 
 "I suppose we might fry them. Then we 
 could toast the cheese. I know how to do 
 that." 
 
 " All right ! we'll fry the herring in the 
 spider," said Hilda, brightening; "I believe it 
 will be real good. But what will Mosina eat? 
 Ought she to have herring and toasted cheese ? " 
 
 "Oh, here's some milk out on the window 
 ledge ! " cried Cricket, joyfully. " We can crum- 
 ble some of this dry bread in it, and feed 
 Mosina with it. That will be fine for her.
 
 KEEPING ROUSE. 169 
 
 Bless the child ! she's as good as a lamb 
 now." 
 
 " Isn't she ! I'll toast the bread, and you can 
 set the table, Cricket." 
 
 Cricket assented ; but after rummaging a 
 while, asked Hilda where she supposed Mrs. 
 Brummagen kept her table-cloths and napkins. 
 
 " In that cupboard drawer, probably," said 
 Hilda, trying to make the uneven chunks of 
 bread balance on the two-tined steel fork which 
 she had found. 
 
 "I don't suppose we ought to look in her 
 drawers, even if we do want a table-cloth. Well, 
 I'll just peek in. No ; there's nothing there but 
 a dress of Mosiha's," after a hasty " peek." 
 
 " I can't eat off that faded pink thing on 
 the table," said Hilda, with decision. "At 
 least, I don't believe I can," she added, more 
 doubtfully, as the empty place in her stomach 
 began to protest against waiting much longer 
 for something to put in it. " Ow ! there goes 
 the bread into the fire again ! " 
 
 She prodded the scorched wedge of bread 
 with the fork, and brought it up successfully. 
 She was growing quite expert in rescuing the 
 pieces and blowing off the ashes.
 
 170 EUNICE AND CRICKET. 
 
 "Cricket, this bread is simply roasted, in- 
 stead of toasted." 
 
 u lt does smell pretty scorchy," said Cricket, 
 looking at it anxiously. "We can't waste it, 
 though, for there isn't much of it. Hilda, I 
 can't find a single thing to put on for a table- 
 cloth, excepting a -sheet. Wouldn't you rather 
 have the pink cloth ? It looks clean, anyway. 
 Probably her white cloths are all in the wash." 
 
 " I'd eat it on the floor now," said Hilda, 
 with a decided change of base. "The bread's 
 done. Now for the herring." 
 
 Cricket proceeded to set the table, by putting 
 the knives and forks and the two plates on. 
 
 " There's the table set. Looks sort of bare, 
 though. What will you do with the herrings ? 
 Put them in the spider and let them frizzle ?" 
 
 " I think so," said Hilda, doubtfully. " I never 
 saw any cooked, but how else could we eat them ? 
 This fire doesn't seem very hot, Cricket. Can't 
 wo do something to it ? " 
 
 Considering that the stove lids had been off 
 for fifteen minutes during the bread-toasting, it 
 was not surprising that the top of the fire was a 
 mass of gray ashes. 
 
 " Put on coal," said Cricket, with the air of
 
 KI:KPIX<; HOUSE. 171 
 
 tin- lady from Philadelphia. "But do let's cook 
 the herring lirst, I'm hungry enough to eat 
 Mosina. Oh, you fatty ! aren't you happy with 
 your cookies ! " 
 
 " Oh, Cricket, here are some cold boiled pota- 
 toes," cried Hilda, as joyfully as if she had dis- 
 covered a gold mine. " They were back in this 
 corner. Can't we fry them ? " 
 
 " We can," returned Cricket, promptly. " I'll 
 fry them in the saucepan while you do the her- 
 ring. I'll cut them up." 
 
 Ten minutes later, the two little cooks stood 
 looking at each other in despair. The thin iron 
 of the spider and saucepan heated immediately, 
 even over the dying fire, and the potatoes and 
 herring being put in without any lard, or fat of 
 any kind, naturally stuck fast to the bottom of 
 the pan, and scorched. Most unpleasant odours 
 filled the air. 
 
 "Did you ever imagine it was so hard to 
 cook?" sighed Cricket. "That toast was 
 stone-cold long ago. Look at these messy 
 things ! " 
 
 - The \vorst of it is that we can't eat the 
 burned parts," said Hilda, hungrily, " and 
 there'll be so little left."
 
 172 EUNICE AND CRICKET. 
 
 " Hilda, let's eat what we can of it right 
 now" proposed Cricket. " If we cook any more 
 we'll never get anything to eat." . 
 
 " I could eat fried boards," said Hilda. " Yes, 
 let's scrape out what of the potatoes isn't burned 
 tight down, and eat it up /;" and Hilda picked 
 up the saucepan. 
 
 " Oh, Hilda, I forgot about Mosina ! Aren't 
 you the bestest baby ! She ought to have her 
 milk, Hilda, and I'll give her some while you're 
 fixing luncheon on the table." 
 
 Cricket poured some of the ice-cold milk out 
 into a bowl, and crumbled some dry bread in it. 
 
 Mosina received each mouthful with a series 
 of solemn smacks. 
 
 " I'm ready when you are, Cricket," announced 
 Hilda at length, surveying the somewhat scanty 
 board with a hungry eye. 
 
 " There goes the last mouthful, Mosina," said 
 Cricket, stuffing the spoon so hastily into Mosi- 
 na's open mouth that the baby choked. 
 
 " There ! never mind, baby ! it didn't hurt. 
 Now I'm ready, Hilda. Oh, just think ! we've 
 been so busy with washing and cooking that 
 we've forgotten to play for ever so long." 
 
 " Yes, but don't let's play now, for goodness
 
 KKKPIXC; iiorsK.
 
 KEEPING HOUSE. 175 
 
 sake ! I'm too starving hungry ! Sit down and 
 begin." 
 
 Cricket and Hilda drew up their chairs to the 
 delicious banquet. On one plate lay a curious- 
 looking heap of what Hilda called toast. It 
 consisted of wedges of bread an inch and a half 
 thick on one side, and nothing at all on the 
 other, burnt crisp on the thin edges, and 
 scorched on the thick ones, with the dust of 
 the ashes which it had collected in its numerous 
 descents into the fire still sticking to it. It was 
 perfectly cold, so that the small lumps of white 
 butter stuck to it unmelted. Two herrings^ burnt 
 perfectly black on one side, and, of course, as 
 hard as a piece of coal, reposed side by side on 
 a saucer. Potatoes cut in little chunks, each 
 very black as to one side and very white as to 
 the other, were heaped up on another saucer. 
 These dainties comprised all the meal. 
 
 Cricket and Hilda looked at each other a 
 moment in silence, then Cricket said briskly : 
 
 " Isn't this fun ? Let's play this is roast 
 turkey. Shall I carve? or perhaps I'd better 
 give you a whole turkey, seeing we are wealthy 
 enough to have two," transferring one of the 
 herrings to Hilda's plate. " Will you have
 
 176 EUNICE AND CRICKET. 
 
 some scalloped oysters ? " passing the potatoes. 
 " They're done by a new recipe," she added, 
 laughing, and attacking her herring with knife 
 and fork. Hilda followed her example. Of 
 course they might as well have tried to cut 
 their stone plates. 
 
 " I'm desperate ! please excuse me," cried 
 Cricket, lifting her herring, head and tail, with 
 her fingers, and attacking it this time with her 
 teeth. She desisted after a vain effort. 
 
 " It's no use," she sighed. " I got off a few 
 splinters, but they are not so very good. They 
 do taste burned, and if there's one thing I hate, 
 it's burn. Well, let's have some toast." 
 
 " That's burned a little, too," said Hilda, apol- 
 ogetically. " Perhaps we can scrape it off where 
 it's thicker and eat the inside. Cricket, these 
 these oysters seem to need something. They 
 don't taste like fried potatoes a bit." 
 
 "Of course they don't, for they're oysters. 
 How could oysters taste fried potatoes? But 
 they do taste queer, even for oysters," said 
 Cricket. " The toast is a little burned, isn't it ? " 
 nibbling first around one scorched place and 
 then around another. Finally she laid the piece 
 down in despair.
 
 KKKlM.Nt; HOUSE. 177 
 
 " Hilda, the more I eat, the hungrier I get ! 
 I think I'll try some plain bread." 
 
 " There isn't any more. I toasted all 1 cut, 
 and the rest you gave to Mosina." 
 
 The two girls sat hungrily surveying the 
 remains of their luncheon. The herring had 
 been abandoned as hopeless. The white top of 
 each little chunk of potato was eaten, though 
 every one knows that scorched potato, without 
 either salt or butter, is not exactly appetis- 
 ing. The inside of the thick ends of the 
 bread had been devoured also, but their frag- 
 ments were not very satisfying to hearty little 
 appetites. 
 
 " There are the cookies," said Hilda, suddenly. 
 
 Cricket sprang for them eagerly, at the sug- 
 gestion. 
 
 " It seems sort of mean to eat the very things 
 we brought," she said, hesitating a moment. 
 " Oh, well, mamma will send some more things 
 down to-morrow, when I tell her how we eat up 
 everything Mrs. Bruminagen had in the house. 
 Don't these taste good ? I feel as if I were at 
 home again now," attacking a thin, crisp ginger- 
 snap, and making way with it almost in one 
 mouthful. In a minute there was nothing left
 
 178 EUNICE AND CRICKET. 
 
 but the crumbs of the whole supply. Mosina sat 
 staring wistfully at them. 
 
 " The poor dear ! " said Hilda. " We've 
 eaten up every single thing now, and she looks 
 hungry still." 
 
 " There's a little more milk," said Cricket, 
 getting it. " Drink this, baby. Hilda, do you 
 suppose the burned bread would hurt her if we 
 crumbled it into the milk for her ? Perhaps she 
 won't taste it." 
 
 Apparently Mosina did not mind it, for she 
 eat it eagerly. 
 
 " What let's do now ? " asked Hilda. " When 
 will Mrs. Brummagen be home, do you think ? " 
 
 " I don't know. Let's clear the table and 
 iron these sheets. You know we were going to 
 get them all done." 
 
 Flat-irons had been standing on the stove all 
 the morning, though the girls had pushed them 
 back in their attempts at cooking. Hilda looked 
 resigned at Cricket's proposal, but said noth- 
 ing. The two cleared the table of the remains of 
 their banquet, and piled up the scanty array 
 of dishes. 
 
 The sheets were still lying in damp, flattened 
 coils in the basket, where they had put them.
 
 KEEPING HOUSE. 179 
 
 Cricket found the ironing-board and put it be- 
 tween the table and a chair, as she had seen the 
 laundress do at home. They unfolded a sheet 
 and spread it out carefully, wrinkled and wet, 
 over the board, not noticing that half of it lay 
 on the floor behind. 
 
 Cricket, with a professional air, tested one of 
 the irons, again imitating the laundress. 
 
 " Pretty hot," she said. It was really barely 
 warm, for the fire was fast dying, but to her un- 
 accustomed finger it felt hot. 
 
 "Now, I'm really Mrs. O'Flanagan. We 
 mustn't forget to play. You take care of the 
 baby, mother, and I'll iron. And Hilda!" 
 with a sudden change of tone, "Look here!" 
 for the half-warm flat-iron on the damp sheet 
 had left a long, black smooch. " What in the 
 world is the matter? It keeps doing it;" for 
 Cricket tried different places, with the result of 
 producing a smallpox of black spots. "Did 
 you ever ? " 
 
 " Perhaps the iron is too hot, and scorches it," 
 suggested Hilda, surveying the places critically. 
 
 " I never want to hear the word ' scorched ' 
 again," said Cricket, setting down her iron with 
 a thump. " If it's being scorched, 1 shan't iron
 
 180 EUNICE AND CRICKET. 
 
 any more. That's one thing sure ; " and Cricket 
 hastily bundled the sheet back into the basket. 
 Between lying on the floor and the smooches 
 from the iron, the colour of the sheet was fast 
 becoming African. 
 
 " It's the queerest thing ! I thought that 
 ironing was as easy as falling off a log," using 
 her favourite comparison, which long experience 
 had shown her was very easy indeed. 
 
 " When Sarah irons, she leaves smooth streaks 
 everywhere the iron touches. I thought any- 
 body could iron." 
 
 "/ thought anybody could fry potatoes. 
 Cricket, what time do you suppose it is ? I 
 think it must be nearly dinner-time. Don't 
 you feel as if you'd been here a week ? " 
 
 " Yes, a month. Don't eat that string, Mo- 
 sina. You're as bad as Johnnie-goat." 
 
 " And, Cricket, just suppose she shouldn't get 
 home before dark ! " 
 
 " Oh, papa would send for us," said Cricket, 
 securely. " He knows we're here. But I do 
 wish Mrs. Brummagen would come home. I'm 
 getting dreadfully tired of playing I'm poor. 
 What do you want, Mosina ? " picking up the 
 plump baby that crawled up to her, pulling at
 
 KEEPING HOUSE. 181 
 
 her dress. She sat down on the floor, taking 
 her little diarii-e in her arms. 
 
 " What you get fat on, Mosina, /don't know, 
 unless it's fattening not to eat much. Mosina, 
 1 used to think it would be fun to live in one 
 room, and get your own meals, and play house- 
 keeping, but I've changed my mind. When you 
 have to live on burnt herring 
 
 " And stale bread," burst in Hilda. 
 
 " And burned potatoes 
 
 " And iron with irons that won't iron 
 
 "And have messy washing around all the 
 time " 
 
 " And nothing to sew with 
 
 " And nothing to cook with, and nothing to 
 cook in it " 
 
 " And only wooden chairs to sit down on " 
 
 " And nothing to read 
 
 " Oh, goodness, gracious me ! I do believe 
 1 won't ever scold again at home, and say I 
 hate things," said Hilda, drawing a long breath. 
 " I never thought before how perfectly horrid it 
 would be never to have anything nice. I won- 
 der if poor people mind it." 
 
 " Oh, dear, I hope not ! " said Cricket, looking 
 troubled. " When I'm rich, Hilda," with
 
 182 EUNICE A.ND CRICKET. 
 
 the confidence of childhood that such a time 
 is surely coming, " I'll give everything I have 
 to poor people, so they won't have to work so 
 hard, and can get books to read." 
 
 " But you couldn't do that," objected Hilda, 
 practically, "for you would not have anything 
 left for yourself, and you'd be poor. And if 
 nobody was poor, who'd do our cooking, and all 
 those things ? " 
 
 This problem was too deep for Cricket's 
 troubled little brain. 
 
 " It's a puzzle," she sighed ; then she added, 
 brightening, " I'll ask papa ; he'll fix it, when 
 he's rich. But I don't see why " she pon- 
 dered, struck by another thought, " why /should 
 have a nice home and such a dear family, and 
 books, and everything I want, and Mosina have 
 only this little room and not much to eat. Sup- 
 pose Pd happened to be Mosina, and Mosina had 
 been me ! Oh, dear ! it gets worse and worse ! " 
 
 And Cricket, with a sigh of puzzlement over 
 this problem of all ages, dropped a kiss on 
 Mosina's placid cheek. 
 
 But Mosina, herself, suddenly put an end to 
 the consideration of all hard questions, by set- 
 ting up one of her unexpected roars, as she
 
 KEEPING HOUSE. 183 
 
 doubled herself up like a little jack-knife. Poor 
 little thing! the ice-cold milk had naturally 
 given her a severe attack of colic. 
 
 " What is the matter, baby ? " cried Cricket, 
 in dismay, cuddling Mosina in her arms, in her 
 motherly little fashion. Mosina roared on, al- 
 ternately doubling herself up and straightening 
 herself out. Cricket and Hilda began to get 
 thoroughly frightened. 
 
 " Cricket, she isn't dying, is she ? " whispered 
 Hilda, trembling. Not having any brothers or 
 sisters, she was perfectly helpless with children. 
 
 " 1 don't know, but I guess not," said Cricket, 
 feeling rather disturbed, herself. " There, baby ! 
 hush, dear ! What shall I do for you ? Mercy, 
 Hilda, she's getting black in the face ! Do 
 go for somebody." 
 
 Where shall I go ? " asked Hilda helplessly, 
 wringing her hands. 
 
 " Anywhere down - stairs in the next 
 room. Find somebody quickly." 
 
 Hilda flew for the door, and ran plump into 
 Mrs. Brummagen, who rushed in breathlessly. 
 In a twinkling, the baby was in her arms. 
 Mosina was holding her breath, and was purple 
 in the face. Her mother promptly blew down
 
 184 EUNICE AND CRICKET. 
 
 her throat, and thumped her on the back, and 
 in a moment the roar began again, but rather 
 less vehemently. The colic was evidently pass- 
 ing over. 
 
 Poor little Mrs. Brummagen was in a state 
 of excitement and apology bordering on distrac- 
 tion, at the idea of the young ladies staying 
 there all day long, and taking care of Mosina 
 all that time. 
 
 " An' you eat vat ? " she demanded, trag- 
 ically. " Der vas noding to eat. An* you 
 been here four five six hour ! " 
 
 " We couldn't find much to eat," admitted 
 Cricket, honestly. " We tried to cook the her- 
 rings, but they were rather tough, and we fried 
 potatoes, only they wouldn't fry. They seemed 
 to burn, somehow." 
 
 Mrs. Brummagen poured out a string of 
 mingled German and English ejaculations, ex- 
 pressive of her distress. 
 
 " And, Mrs. Brummagen, we thought we'd 
 help you a little and get your sheets all washed 
 and ironed, but somehow it didn't go right, and 
 we made a dreadful mess of it. I guess you 
 have to know how, if you wash and iron. It 
 looks so easy, I thought any one could do it.
 
 KEEPING HOUSE. 185 
 
 The sheet is dreadfully dirty the one we did, I 
 mean, and its all smoochy, too. Will it come 
 out?" and Cricket shook out the damp sheet 
 from the basket, and anxiously displayed it. 
 
 Mrs. Brummagen was more overcome than 
 before. 
 
 " Ach, the dear chilt ! " she cried. " Ya, it 
 vill come out, ven I vash him mit soap." 
 
 " I'm so glad," said Cricket, greatly relieved. 
 " Of course, mamma would have given you 
 another one, though. Now, we must go, I think. 
 Oh, Hilda ! we forgot your cap ! Mrs. Brum- 
 magen, we dressed up to play keeping house, 
 but we were so busy doing it, that we forgot to 
 play much." 
 
 Mrs. Brummagen helped them on with their 
 things, talking all the time, in her broken Eng- 
 lish, and telling them how she ought not have 
 gone at all, and how she hardly knew what she 
 was doing, and how she couldn't get away 
 sooner, and how she had worried all day about 
 their getting something to eat. 
 
 " Never mind," said Cricket. " We enjoyed 
 it ever so much. Good-bye, Mosina. Bring her 
 up on Saturday, when you come for the bundle, 
 won't you ? Good-bye."
 
 186 EUNICE AND CRICKET. 
 
 It was getting well into the dusk of the short 
 winter day, when the children arrived at home. 
 Cricket flew into her mother's arms and kissed 
 her as if she had been gone six weeks. 
 
 " My little girl, where have you been, and 
 what have you been doing ? I was just sending 
 Eliza down for you. Somebody left word at 
 the basement door that you were going to stay 
 at Mrs. Brummagen's all day, but I expected 
 you home long ago." 
 
 " Mamma, we've been playing poor, and * 
 don't like it one bit," said Cricket, 
 slowly, with her head on her mother's neck. 
 44 1 always thought it would be rather fun tc 
 be poor, but it isn't. It's just perfectly horrid 
 And I'm so hungry, you can't think ! And 
 oh, mamma dearest ! suppose just suppose 
 that I'd been Mrs. Brummagen's little girl, 
 instead of yours!"
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 THE DIAMOND RING. 
 
 THE short days of the girls' visit flew by on 
 wings. 
 
 " Only till to-morrow ! " sighed Cricket, as 
 they got up from the luncheon- table. " This 
 time to-morrow you'll be gone, and we'll be 
 left forlorn ! I wish people who come here 
 to visit would stay for always, and never go 
 away." 
 
 " What an India-rubber house you'd have to 
 have," said Archie, sweeping all her curls over 
 her face with a flourish of his arm, as he passed 
 her. 
 
 "Archie, when you get to heaven, you won't 
 be happy unless you can muss my hair up," said 
 Cricket, resignedly, shaking it back. 
 
 "Don't get riled, Miss Scricket," returned 
 Archie, whirling her around. "That's only a 
 love-pat." 
 
 "A lovf-pat ! " said Cricket, scornfully. "I
 
 188 EUNICE AND CRICKET. 
 
 shouldn't like to feel one of your hate-pa.ts. then. 
 Mamma, what can Hilda and I do this after- 
 noon ? " 
 
 " We girls are going to the museum again," 
 said Eunice. " Come with us." 
 
 " No, we don't want to. You like to see such 
 ^interesting things. Mummies and all that. 
 I only like the pictures and marbles, anyway." 
 
 " We want something very nice," put in Hilda, 
 " because we kept house all day yesterday, and 
 did very hard wc^k." 
 
 " Yes," sighed Cricket, " I've learned two 
 things lately. I don't want to adopt a baby and 
 have it keep me awake at night, and I don't 
 want to be poor and not have any books to read. 
 Mamma, what can we do ? " 
 
 " There is one thing I want you to do," said 
 mamma, promptly, knowing by long experience 
 that when children are begging for something 
 to do, nothing seems very attractive, if offered 
 as a choice. The same thing, given as some- 
 thing from which there is no appeal, will be 
 done cheerfully. 
 
 "I want you both to go and see Emily Dray- 
 ton for a little while this afternoon. It is 
 Hilda's last chance. Eunice and Edith went
 
 THE DIAMOND RING. 189 
 
 yesterday. Go about three o'clock. She'll be 
 delighted to see you, if she is at home." 
 
 "That will be jolly. I hope she'll be in. 
 Must we make a regular call, mamma, or can 
 we plain go and see her ? " 
 
 " 'Plain go and see her,' " said mamma, smiling. 
 " Only go and put on your Sunday dress. It 
 will be more polite to dress especially for it," 
 added wise mamma, knowing the process of dress- 
 ing would help fill up the afternoon. Papa had 
 planned to take all the children for a long drive 
 this afternoon, but as he was unexpectedly called 
 away, it had to be given up, and the girls were 
 thrown on their own resources. 
 
 At three, the two younger girls, in their Sun- 
 day best, started in high feather for their call. 
 It was a long walk to Emily Drayton's, but the 
 children enjoyed the crisp, cold day and the 
 brisk exercise. Unfortunately, when they ar- 
 rived at their destination, they found that Emily 
 was out with her mother, and would not be 
 home till late in the afternoon. Therefore there 
 was nothing to be done but to turn around and 
 travel home again. 
 
 " This isn't very exciting, after all," said 
 Cricket, mournfully. " Here it's nearly four
 
 190 EUNICE AND CRICKET. 
 
 o'clock, and most of your last afternoon is gone 
 already. What let's do next, Hilda ? " 
 
 " Oh, I don't know. I wish we'd gone to the 
 museum with the girls. What's the matter. 
 Cricket?" 
 
 Cricket had suddenly stopped, and was poking 
 at a crack in the sidewalk. 
 
 " I thought I caught a glimpse of something- 
 shiny in that crack. I did ! See, Hilda ! " and 
 Cricket extricated something, triumphantly, and 
 held it up. 
 
 Her own amazement grew as she looked. 
 
 "What? Not really, Cricket?" cried Hilda, 
 and the two heads clashed over the treasure-trove. 
 
 It was a ring with a fairly good-sized dia- 
 mond. 
 
 Cricket whooped, there and then, in her excite- 
 ment. Fortunately the street was a quiet one, 
 and no one was near. 
 
 "A diamond ring, Hilda! A really, truly 
 diamond ! Hooray ! It's as big as the one papa 
 gave mamma on her birthday. I wonder if he'll 
 let me wear it." 
 
 " But somebody has lost it," said Hilda, in 
 her practical way. " You'll have to find the
 
 THE DIAMOND RING.
 
 THE DIAMOND RING. 193 
 
 " Why, so I will ! How silly of me. I sup- 
 pose papa will advertise it. It's just like our 
 finding Mosina ; we never thought that some- 
 body owned her. Let's hurry home and show 
 papa." 
 
 The children skipped home briskly, in the 
 excitement of so great a discovery, and burst 
 into Doctor Ward's office eagerly. He had just 
 come in for something he needed, and was on 
 the point of going out again. 
 
 " Found what ? A diamond ring ? " he asked, 
 putting down his hat, and taking the ring that 
 Cricket put in his hand. 
 
 " H'm. Where did you find this ? " he asked, 
 turning it to the light. 
 
 Cricket told him about it. Doctor Ward, as 
 he listened, took down a tiny vial from one of his 
 shelves, and put a drop of its contents on the 
 ring, watching the effect. 
 
 "It's gold, but I'm a little uncertain about 
 the diamond," he said. " It's not worth adver- 
 tising, if it's not real," he said, putting back the 
 bottle. " You may take it to the jeweller's, if 
 you like, and get his opinion." 
 
 " Not a diamond ? " cried the disappointed 
 children, in a breath.
 
 194 EUNICE AND CRICKET. 
 
 " I think it's only paste, my dear. However, 
 you can run around to the jeweller's and find 
 out I must go now." 
 
 " Oh, dear ine ! " sighed Cricket, sorrowfully ; 
 "I thought we surely had found some excite- 
 ment. Well, come on, Hilda ; let's go to 
 Spencer's and find out. If it isn't a real dia- 
 mond, may we have it, papa ? " 
 
 "Yes," answered Doctor Ward, absent- 
 mindedly, turning to find something else he 
 wanted. 
 
 At Spencer's the clerk took the ring with a 
 smile. 
 
 " No, it isn't a diamond," he said, after giving 
 it a careless glance. " Found it ? No, it isn't 
 worth advertising." 
 
 The two girls, who had still clung to the hope 
 that they had found a diamond, looked im- 
 mensely disappointed at this decision. They 
 took the ring and walked slowly homeward, 
 discussing the affair. 
 
 "If it isn't a real diamond, and if it isn't 
 worth advertising, we might sell it for what it 
 is worth," suggested Hilda, brilliantly, at last. 
 " Let's go into the first jeweller's store we come 
 to, and ask him to buy it."
 
 THE DIAMOND UIN<J. 195 
 
 " Could we ? " said Cricket, doubtfully. " Is 
 it ours enough for that ? " 
 
 "Of course, goosie. Your father said we 
 might have it, didn't he? Of course we have 
 a right to sell it and keep the money. He 
 wouldn't care," urged Hilda. 
 
 "No, I s'pose not," returned Cricket, hesi- 
 tating. " How much do you suppose we'd get 
 for it?" 
 
 " Oh, twenty or thirty dollars, I suppose, or 
 something like that. Rings cost a lot," an- 
 swered Hilda, vaguely. " What shall we do 
 with the money?" 
 
 " Buy a bicycle," said Cricket, promptly. 
 " Let's each buy one. I'm crazy for a ' bika- 
 chine,' as Kenneth says." 
 
 So am I. What kind would you get?" 
 
 "They say the Humber is a pretty nice 
 wheel," said Cricket, reflectively ; " but I 
 guess that they cost too much, for I heard 
 Donald say that he wanted one but couldn't 
 afford it. Perhaps we couldn't get one of them, 
 but we might each get a Columbia. Archie 
 and Will have Columbian. Do you know how 
 much they cost?" asked Cricket, who never 
 had any more idea of the value of things than
 
 196 EUNICE AND CRICKET. 
 
 a cat. She had probably heard the price of a 
 good bicycle mentioned scores of times, without 
 its making the slightest impression upon her. 
 Hilda, who, living alone with her mother and 
 grandmother, never heard bicycles talked about, 
 really did not know. 
 
 " I think the Columbian would do for us to 
 learn on," she said, patronigingly. " You can't 
 ride, can you ? " 
 
 "Yes, 1 learned last fall on some of the girls' 
 wheels at school. It's just as easy as pie. It's 
 so funny that people make so much fuss about 
 learning. I like a boy's wheel best, though. 
 Wish I was on one this minute," said Cricket, 
 with a little skip. 
 
 " Now what else shall we get with the rest of 
 the money ? " asked Hilda. 
 
 " A bicycle for Eunice," answered Cricket 
 immediately. " Of course, mine would be part 
 hers, but we couldn't both ride at a time, unless 
 I hung on behind, somehow. I suppose I might 
 get a tandem." 
 
 " Then you never could ride without some- 
 body on behind," said Hilda, sensibly ; " and 
 you might not always want it. " No, I'd get a 
 single wheel, if I were you. I think I'll get
 
 THE DIAMOND RING. 197 
 
 a gold thimble with the rest of iny half of the 
 money." 
 
 " I want a lot of new books," said Cricket, 
 characteristically. " I wish somebody would 
 invent a book, that as fast as you read it 
 would turn into another book that you haven't 
 read. Then you'd always have a new book to 
 read. Will you get anything else ? " 
 
 " I want a lot of things more, but I guess I'll 
 put the rest of my money into the savings bank. 
 I've got three hundred dollars in the savings 
 bank already." 
 
 " I tried to make money, once, to buy a bi- 
 cycle," said Cricket, meditatively. " 1 had a store 
 on the dock at Marbury for one day. Sold peanuts 
 and lemonade. It was pretty tiresome though, 
 and I didn't make very much. Auntie said J 
 didn't make anything, but I never could under- 
 stand it, somehow. I had twenty-one cents to 
 put in my bank at night. I had fifty cents in 
 the morning, but we spent it buying things to 
 sell. Business is so queer. I should think 
 men's heads would burst, finding out whether 
 they are making money or losing it." 
 
 " It's a great deal nicer not to make money, 
 but have somebody leave you plenty, then you
 
 198 EUNICE AND ( K1CKET. 
 
 don't have to bother," said Hilda. " Here's a 
 store ; let's go in here." 
 
 The two little girls marched up to the first 
 clerk they saw. 
 
 " We want to see if you'll buy this ring of 
 us," said Cricket, holding it out. " We want to 
 sell it, please, and please give us all you can for 
 it." 
 
 The clerk stared and smiled. 
 
 "I'll have to see the old gentleman about 
 buying the ring," he said. " You wait here a 
 moment," and with that he went off with the 
 ring, leaving the children looking after him 
 hungrily, and a little uncertain whether they 
 would see their treasure again. However, the 
 clerk returned in a moment. 
 
 "Mr. Elton says he can't buy it unless you 
 bring a note from your father or somebody, say- 
 ing it's all right about your selling the ring, for 
 he doesn't want to be let in for receiving stolen 
 property." 
 
 The clerk meant this for a joke, but the hor- 
 ror-stricken children did not understand this 
 kind of humour. 
 
 " I said I found it," said indignant Cricket at 
 last, finding her voice.
 
 THE DIAMOND RING. 199 
 
 " Oh, it's all right, 1 dare say," said the clerk 
 carelessly ; " you run along and get a note from 
 somebody, and that will do." 
 
 The children walked out of the store in a 
 state divided between indignation and bewilder- 
 ment. 
 
 " 1 said I found it," repeated Cricket. " 1 
 don't see what he wants a note for." 
 
 ' Let's go somewhere else and sell it, and then 
 they'll be sorry," said Hilda, tossing her head. 
 
 " Yes, we'll go somewhere else, but first we 
 had better go home and get a note from papa. 
 Somebody else might ask for one," returned 
 Cricket, learning wisdom by experience. " You 
 see, papa said we could have it if it wasn't a real 
 diamond, and it isn't." 
 
 They rushed up to the library and to the 
 office, but papa was still out, and would not be 
 back until dinner-time, the waitress told them. 
 Then they went for mamma, but she had not 
 returned either. 
 
 " Let's write a note ourselves," said Hilda. 
 " Any kind of a note will do, I suppose. You 
 see, it's really ours. Your father said so." 
 
 " Yes, I suppose it is. What shall we say ? 
 Let's make up something."
 
 200 EUNICE AND CRICKET. 
 
 " All right ! You take the ring, now give it 
 to me, and I'll put in the note that a friend gave 
 it to me, and I don't like it, or something, and 
 that we want to sell it. That will be regularly 
 story-booky." 
 
 After much writing and giggling and rewrit- 
 ing, the following note was concocted : 
 
 Dear Sir : I received this ring from a friend and it's 
 too big for me, and I send my daughter with it ; and 
 what will you give me for it ? 
 
 Your friend, 
 
 J. JONES. 
 
 The " J. Jones " was actually a flight of fancy 
 on Hilda's part. She thought it would be still 
 more " story-booky " to sign an assumed name, 
 and Cricket finally consented. 
 
 " It looks very well," said Cricket, surveying 
 the effusion with much pride, when it was neatly 
 copied in Hilda's pretty writing on mamma's 
 best note paper. "And 'J. Jones' might be 
 anybody, you know. Oh, Hilda! 1 hope we'll 
 get lots of money for it ! " 
 
 " We ought to. The gold is worth a good 
 deal, I suppose." 
 
 " When we get the money, we might go
 
 THE DIAMOND RING. 201 
 
 straight down to the bicycle place, and buy a 
 bicycle right away, this very day," proposed 
 Cricket, with a skip of delight, as the children 
 went out again. "Just think of calmly walk- 
 ing into the house at dinner-time, with a bicycle 
 under our arms ! I mean, of course well, 
 you know what I mean." 
 
 " Wouldn't everybody be surprised ? Where 
 will you keep your wheel, Cricket ? " 
 
 " In the basement hall, probably. What 
 shall you name yours, Hilda ? " 
 
 " Name it ? " queried Hilda. 
 
 u Yes. I don't see why they shouldn't be 
 named as well as a horse. Don't you think 
 Angelica is a good name ? Oh, bicycle, so nice 
 and dear! I wish you were this minute here! 
 Why, that's a rhyme, isn't it?" 
 
 " Here's a jeweller's," said Hilda, glancing at 
 the window of a store they were passing. " It 
 isn't very big, but it looks pretty nice." 
 
 A clerk with very black hair and a very big 
 nose came forward to wait on them. 
 
 Cricket produced the ring for his inspection. 
 
 " It isn't a really-truly diamond," she said, 
 lifting her honest eyes to his face, " but we'd like 
 to sell it for what it's worth. And here's a
 
 202 EUNICE AND CRICKET. 
 
 note," she added, producing it with a fluttering 
 heart. Would he just say it was a joke, and 
 not do anything about it ? They waited breath- 
 
 " Not a diamond ? " said the clerk, taking it 
 carelessly. He urned it over and looked at it 
 closely, glanced at the children, read the note, 
 and then said : 
 
 " No, it isn't a diamond. I should say not. 
 We'll give you let me see well, I'll have to 
 ask the boss," and he went off. 
 
 "They always have to ask somebody. Oh, 
 Hilda, how much do you think they'll give ? " 
 whispered Cricket, eagerly, squeezing Hilda's 
 hand. 
 
 " Probably thirty dollars, at least" answered 
 Hilda, returning the squeeze. " Hush ! here he 
 comes." 
 
 " Boss says," began the clerk deliberately, 
 " that the diamond isn't real, but if it's all 
 right about the note," the children gasped, 
 " that he can allow you, well, as much as seventy- 
 five cents for the ring." 
 
 Two wide-open mouths was all the clerk 
 could see as he glanced down. The children 
 were too amazed to speak for a moment.
 
 THE DIAMOND RING. 203 
 
 " Seventy -five cents ! " faltered Cricket, at 
 last. 
 
 " Seventy-five cents ! " echoed Hilda, blankly. 
 
 And they turned and stared at each other, not 
 knowing what to say next. 
 
 " Come, do you want it ? " asked the clerk, 
 yawning. " Don't be all night about decid- 
 ing." 
 
 "Is is that all it's worth?" at last ven- 
 tured Cricket, her round little face really long 
 with the disappointment. 
 
 " Really, now, that's a pretty liberal offer," 
 said the clerk, assuming a confidential air. 
 " Come, decide," tapping the ring indifferently 
 on the counter. 
 
 " Wouldn't any one give me any more for 
 it?" persisted Cricket. 
 
 " Hardly think it. Why, like as not the next 
 person you go to might not offer you a cent 
 more than fifty. We always do things of honour 
 here. Liberal old bird, the boss is," with a sly 
 wink that half frightened the children. " High- 
 est prices paid here for second-hand jewelry. 
 Don't you see the sign ?" with a backward wave 
 of his hand toward a placard on the wall. 
 
 Hilda and Cricket exchanged glances. Hilda
 
 204 EUNICE AND CRICKET. 
 
 nodded, and Cricket said, with a sigh that canie 
 from her very boots : 
 
 " Very well, we'll take the seventy-five cents, 
 if that's all you can give us for it." 
 
 " Positively all. Fortunate you came here, or 
 you wouldn't have gotten that," said the clerk, 
 counting out three new quarters into Cricket's 
 hand. 
 
 " Shine's thrown in," he said, facetiously, as 
 the children soberly thanked him and walked out 
 of the store, feeling very uncomfortable somehow. 
 
 " What a horrid man ! " exclaimed Cricket, as 
 they reached the sidewalk and drew a long 
 breath. Wasn't he the most winkable creature 
 you ever saw ? I suppose he thought he was 
 funny." 
 
 " Greasy old thing ! " returned Hilda, both 
 children being glad to vent their disappointment 
 on some convenient object. " His fingernails 
 were as black as ink." 
 
 But Cricket could not stay crushed long. In 
 a moment the smiles began to creep up to her 
 eyes, and spill over on to her cheeks, and finally 
 reached her mouth. 
 
 " Oh, Hilda ! it's too funny," she cried, with 
 her rippling laugh. "We were going to take
 
 THE DIAMOND RIV,. '205 
 
 our bicycles home under our arms all so grand ! 
 Shall we order them to-night?" 
 
 "I'm just too mad for anything," answered 
 Hilda, whose sense of humour never equalled 
 Cricket's. " Seventy-five cents ! the idea ! for 
 that beautiful gold ring ! " 
 
 "I've another idea," said Cricket, stopping 
 short suddenly. " It isn't worth putting seventy- 
 five cents in the bank, is it ? Let's stop at that 
 old peanut-woman's stand and get some peanuts 
 with the money. I think we'll get a good many 
 for seventy-five cents." 
 
 And they certainly did. The old woman 
 stared at the munificent order, but began to 
 count out bags with great speed, lest they 
 should change their minds. 
 
 " Five cents a bag," she said ; " seven eight 
 that makes quite a many bags nine ten 
 where will I put this ? eleven twelve here, 
 little miss, tuck it in here, thirteen can you 
 hold it up here ? " 
 
 " We have enough, I think," said Cricket, 
 rather amazed at the quantity of peanuts you 
 can get for seventy-five cents. 
 
 " That ain't but thirteen, honey. Here, put 
 this 'un under your arm. Got to go fur ? "
 
 206 EUNICE AND CRICKET. 
 
 " Not very. Well, Hilda, 1 never had all tho 
 peanuts I wanted at one time before, I do believe. 
 I should think these would last a year. Oh, that 
 one's slipping off ! Fix it, please. Thank you, 
 ever so much." 
 
 " Hollo, Madame Van Twister ! Are you 
 buying out the whole establishment?" said 
 a familiar voice behind them, and turning they 
 saw Donald. 
 
 " I guess she's pretty glad to sell out," said 
 Cricket, seriously. " I know, for I kept a pea- 
 nut-stand once in Marbury ; the one I was telling 
 you about, Hilda. It wasn't much fun. It looks 
 so, but it isn't." 
 
 " Buying her out from philanthropic motives ?" 
 queried Donald. 
 
 " No, we've been selling diamond rings," said 
 Cricket, carelessly, " and we had a lot of money, 
 so we thought we'd buy peanuts. Want a bag, 
 Don ? we have plenty." 
 
 " You're a regular circus, you kid," laughed 
 Donald. " Where do you get your diamond 
 rings ? " 
 
 Cricket told him the whole story. Donald 
 laughed till he had to hold on -to the peanut- 
 stand.
 
 THE DIAMOND RING. 207 
 
 " J. Jones ! Well, you certainly showed great 
 originality in the name ! " he said. " Sorry I 
 can't escort you home, youngster, and carry a 
 few dozen of those bags for you, but I'm due 
 elsewhere," and Donald went off, still laughing. 
 
 If you want to know whether the family had 
 enough peanuts, I will simply remark that by 
 bedtime, that night, there were only two bags 
 left, and shells. 
 
 " After all, we girls didn't eat so many," said 
 Cricket, meditatively. " Will and Archie ate 
 ten bags. I counted. Boys are so queer ! The 
 more they eat, the more they want." 
 
 Doctor Ward was out to dinner, and did not 
 hear the end of the story of the ring till the 
 next day. 
 
 " Do you mean you actually sold it, you little 
 Jews ? " he said. Then I shall be obliged to 
 go and buy it back." 
 
 " Papa ! why, we've spent the money ! " cried 
 Cricket, alarmed. " Besides, you said we could 
 have it, didn't you ? I thought we could do 
 anything we liked with it," entirely forgetting 
 that the proposition to sell it had not come from 
 her. 
 
 " I believe I did say something about your
 
 208 EUNICE AND CRICKET. 
 
 having it if we couldn't find an owner, or if the 
 diamond was not real. However, I want to be 
 sure on that point for myself. Sometimes mis- 
 takes are made. I must see about it." 
 
 " Suppose they won't sell it back," suggested 
 Cricket, looking uncomfortable. 
 
 " Perhaps they won't, but 1 think I can induce 
 them." 
 
 " But we haven't the seventy - five cents," 
 repeated Cricket, piteously, " and we've eaten 
 up all the peanuts, so we can't send them back 
 and get the money." 
 
 " Where are the peanuts, which we got for the 
 seventy-five cents, which we got for the diamond 
 ring, which we found on the street ! Now, Miss 
 Scricket, you've got to go to jail," said Archie, 
 cheerfully. " Where is the jail, which holds 
 Miss Scricket, which ate the peanuts, which cost 
 seventy-five cents, which she got for a diamond 
 ring, what belonged to somebody else ! Regular 
 House that Jack Built." 
 
 " You can pay for the peanuts you ate, then," 
 retorted Cricket. " That will be pretty nearly 
 seventy-five cents." 
 
 " That identical seventy-five cents it will not 
 be necessary to return," said Doctor Ward, pinch-
 
 THE DIAMOND RING. 209 
 
 ing her cheek. " I'll supply the money, and 
 report at luncheon." 
 
 At luncheon Doctor Ward held up the ring. 
 
 " I went, I saw, I got the ring, after an hour's 
 hard work. I suspected it was really a diamond 
 as soon as the old Jew opened his lips." 
 
 " It is a diamond ? " cried every one, in 
 chorus. 
 
 " I won't keep you in suspicion, as Cricket 
 used to say. It is a diamond, though not of 
 the first water. The old fellow first pretended 
 he knew nothing about the matter. I had the 
 clerks called up. He only had two. One of 
 them " 
 
 " Did he have a big nose ? " interrupted Cricket, 
 eagerly. 
 
 "And greasy hair and black finger-nails?" 
 added Hilda. 
 
 " All those," said Doctor Ward. Well, it 
 took an hour, but finally I got it back. Then I 
 took it to Spencer's " 
 
 "The very place we went to," interrupted 
 Cricket again." 
 
 " Yes, and I happened to see the very clerk. 
 The moment I held it out he looked surprised ; 
 I told him I wanted it tested, not merely
 
 210 EUNICE AND CRICKET. 
 
 glanced at. He took it off, and came back, 
 presently, looking very sheepish, and told me, as 
 I said before, that it is a diamond, though not a 
 very valuable one for its size." 
 
 " Why didn't he look at it more carefully at 
 first?" asked Mrs. Ward. 
 
 " He said something about thinking it was a 
 joke that the children were putting up, and 
 
 " As if we would put up a joke on a perfect 
 stranger ! " cried Cricket, indignantly. 
 
 " Of course not, pet, but he didn't know that. 
 It was no excuse for him, though. He should 
 have given it the proper attention. However, 
 we have the ring safe now, after all its adven- 
 tures, and we'll advertise it." 
 
 " Papa," asked Cricket, dimpling suddenly, 
 "If nobody ever claims it, may I have it for 
 my own, not to sell it, I mean, but just to 
 wear it when I'm grown-up ? " 
 
 " Can't promise. You'd probably pawn it 
 the first time you wanted peanuts," teased Doc- 
 tor Ward. 
 
 That was several years ago, but the ring, which 
 is still in mamma's jewel-box, is now called 
 Cricket's.
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 SCHOOL THEATRICALS. 
 
 IT seemed very lonely the next day, when 
 Edith and Hilda had gone. The spare room 
 was shorn of its two cots, and was restored to its 
 usual dainty order. Will and Archie left also, 
 as their school began the next Monday, and 
 they went to board, in the neighbourhood of 
 their house, till Edna was sufficiently recovered 
 for them to be at home. She had had a very 
 light attack of scarlet fever, fortunately, and was 
 already improving. As soon as the boys left, 
 Eunice and Cricket returned to their own do- 
 mains. College opened and Don was off. On 
 Tuesday, the girls' school, St. Agatha's, was in 
 session again, so now they all settled down to 
 the busy time that lies between Christmas and 
 Easter. 
 
 At the close of the half-year at St. Agatha's, 
 early in February, came the great excitement of 
 the year. This was an exhibition, consisting of
 
 212 EUNICE AND CRICKET. 
 
 a play, given in French by some of the older 
 girls, and a short play in English by some of 
 the children in the junior department. As only 
 the girls whose scholarship was high, and de- 
 portment uniformly good, were allowed to take 
 part in the plays, of course it was one of the 
 chief honours of the year to be selected. The 
 announcement of the favoured girls was eagerly 
 awaited. 
 
 The French play was learned as class work 
 during the fall term by all the senior girls in 
 the French classes. The list of those chosen to 
 give the plays was read on the first day of school 
 after the Christmas holidays. 
 
 Much rehearsing and genuine hard work on 
 the part of the actors, as well as of the teachers, 
 went into this yearly exhibition, but the honour 
 paid for all the extra hours, and the names of 
 the girls who took the parts were preserved in 
 the school year-book. 
 
 As Marjorie had been in the French play the 
 year before, she could not be in it again, this 
 year, although her marks were well up. Since 
 Kimice and Cricket had only entered St. Agatha's 
 tins year, they never thought of the possibility 
 of either of them being in the play. Therefore
 
 SCHOOL THEATRICALS. '218 
 
 you can imagine Eunice's blank amazement 
 when her name was read among the others : 
 
 " Miss Eunice Ward is assigned the part of 
 Sallie, the maid." 
 
 "Eunice?" said Cricket, right out loud, her 
 eyes shining like two stars. " Oh, do you think 
 she can?" 
 
 Apparently Eunice's teachers thought she 
 could, for they had given her the very good part 
 of a little housemaid. The " cast " were re- 
 quested to wait after school, to be given their 
 books and be instructed in their parts. 
 
 Cricket was on tiptoe with excitement when 
 Eunice came home, trying to look unconcerned 
 and every-day-ish. Cricket flew at her with a 
 little shriek of delight, and squeezed her eagerly. 
 
 '< Eunice ! Eunice ! think of your being given 
 a part in a real play! What will you wear? 
 Will it be hard to learn? When do you have 
 to know it ? Do they begin rehearsing soon ? 
 Could I go to the rehearsals, do you think ? " 
 
 "I don't know everything yet, Cricket. I 
 don't know what I'm to wear. We must know 
 our parts perfectly in one week, and next Tues- 
 day will be our first ivbcarsal. I don't know 
 about their letting you in, but I'm afraid they
 
 214 EUNICE AND CRICKET. 
 
 won't. I don't think the) 7 let anybody be there 
 but Miss Raymond and Miss Emmet, and us 
 actors," with supreme importance. 
 
 " How horrid ! I'll just go somewhere and 
 peek, then. I must see you." 
 
 "I'll ask Miss Emmet if you can't come, 
 though. She knows we are always together. 
 But, you see, if they let in one outside girl, 
 any number may want to come in," said Eunice, 
 wisely. 
 
 " That's so," said Cricket, with a sigh. "You 
 tell them I'll make myself very small and not 
 get in anybody's way. Where's your book ? " 
 
 " Here it is. Sallie is my part, you know." 
 
 Cricket took the book and dropped down on 
 the window-seat. 
 
 " Isn't this delicious? ' Curtain rising, dis- 
 closes Sallie dusting.' Oh, what cunning little 
 short sentences you have to say ! " After a 
 moment's silence : " Eunice, this won't be any- 
 thing to learn. I just about know the first page 
 already," and Cricket rattled it off. 
 
 For a week the family had to lunch and dine 
 on the famous play. A stranger could not have 
 told which was to take part, Eunice or Cricket, 
 for the two knew it equally well. Indeed, in
 
 SCHOOL TIIKATKK ALS. 215 
 
 a week's time, Cricket knew the whole play by 
 heart, from reading the other characters, when 
 she was hearing Knnice. The play was short, 
 of course, only being about twenty-five minutes 
 in length. The children declaimed it on the 
 stairs ; they spouted it in the parlour after 
 dinner, and they interlarded their conversation 
 with quotations from it. They talked profes- 
 sionally of entrances and exits, of wings and 
 flies and scenery and cues, till their long-suffer- 
 ing family protested in a body. 
 
 Eunice had a private interview with Miss 
 Emmet, the principal, regarding Cricket's pres- 
 ence at the rehearsals. At first Miss Emmet 
 said positively, as Eunice had feared she would, 
 that it was against the rules for any one to be 
 present save herself and the teacher who drilled 
 the girls. But Eunice's pleading face, as she 
 urged that she and Cricket were always to- 
 gether in everything, and she could do it so 
 much better if Cricket were there, because she 
 could rehearse it with her at home, finally made 
 Miss Emmet say, smiling : 
 
 " Well, my dear, on second thoughts, we'll 
 admit Jean. Only please do not tell the girls 
 that you asked for her to be present."
 
 216 EUNICE AND CRICKET. 
 
 Eunice promised, radiantly, and flew off to 
 Cricket with the coveted permission. 
 
 The rehearsals went on swimmingly for a 
 time. Then, after the novelty was over, the 
 little actors began to realise that the extra 
 time required of them interfered, now and then, 
 with their own plans for amusement. There 
 began to be absences from rehearsals. The 
 rehearsals themselves began to be a bore, for 
 any one who has ever trained children for any 
 exhibition knows the tiresome repetition of 
 scenes and sentences that is necessary to ensure 
 success in the simplest performance. 
 
 Eunice and Cricket felt it, with the others. 
 They wanted to go skating, to go down-town 
 with mammS, or made plans with their school- 
 mates, only to remember, at the last minute, 
 that there was a rehearsal that afternoon. 
 
 Eunice was very faithful, however, for her 
 mother would not permit anything to interfere 
 with these rehearsals. Cricket, of course, was 
 free, but, as her father said, she would " never 
 desert Mr. Micawber." 
 
 " No ; you agreed to take a part in the play, 
 dear," said mamma firmly, when the children 
 begged to " cut just once, for the other girls did
 
 SCHOOL THEATRICALS. 217 
 
 sometimes," since something unusual had come 
 up ; " what you agreed to do, you must do, at 
 any cost of inconvenience or disappointment to 
 yourself. No amusements, of any kind, must 
 prevent your being punctual at every rehearsal." 
 
 k ' Just sometimes, mamma," begged Eunice. 
 
 " Not even once. Your teachers are taking- 
 all this trouble for your benefit, and the least 
 you can do is to be depended upon for your 
 punctual presence. You know how provoking 
 you say it is when any one is absent, and how 
 badly the rehearsal goes on then." 
 
 " That's so ; like a chicken on one leg," 
 said Cricket, thoughtfully. " Everything hitches. 
 But 1 do wish I were in the play. I know all 
 Isabel Fleming's part much better than she does. 
 Miss Raymond scolds her all the time." 
 
 " How did she get in if she is stupid ? " 
 asked Marjorie. 
 
 " She isn't stupid. I believe she's lazy. She 
 just stumbles along, and it makes me so mad 
 when she gets all mixed up in her best speeches. 
 There's one part, with Eunice, that she spoils 
 entirely, every time. That about the bonnet, 
 Eunice, when you come in and find her trying 
 it on. She's all alone before the glass first, and
 
 218 EUNICE AND CRICKET. 
 
 she has some awfully funny things to say, and 
 she just forgets half of them, every time." 
 
 " You do it lots better, Cricket," said Eunice. 
 " She really does, mamma. She's practised it 
 with me, you know, up-stairs. Let's do it now, 
 Cricket." 
 
 And Cricket, nothing loath, jumped up, and 
 the children went through the scene. Cricket 
 was always such an enthusiastic little soul about 
 everything she did, that she made herself liter- 
 ally the character she was acting. 
 
 " Oh, I'm just pining away to be in the play," 
 she said, sinking down on a couch and fanning 
 herself, amid the applause of the family. 
 
 " You look pretty healthy for one who is in 
 that state," said Doctor Ward. 
 
 They were all in the parlour for the jolly half- 
 hour after dinner. 
 
 "I don't show it much, I suppose," said 
 Cricket thoughtfully, " but, really, it just pines 
 inside all the time." 
 
 "Do you remember, mamma," put in Mar- 
 jorie, " how Eunice, when she was a little thing, 
 used to like to sit up at the piano and sing, and 
 pretend to play her accompaniments ? There 
 was one particular song she always tried. It
 
 SCHOOL THEATRICALS. 219 
 
 had a chorus, Maggie, dear Maggie, I'm pin- 
 ning for thee ! ' as Eunice used to say it. Cricket 
 might sing now, 'Oh, Nancy, dear Nancy, I'm 
 pining for thee ! ' " 
 
 " By the way, what is that ghostly song you 
 are so fond of singing about the house, Mar- 
 jorie ? " asked Doctor Ward, looking up from his 
 evening paper. " I only can make out the 
 chorus, ' Repack, repack, repack my body to 
 me, to me.' " 
 
 There was a shout of laughter that nearly 
 drowned Marjorie's astonished protest that she 
 never sang anything so sepulchral. 
 
 " You certainly do, often," insisted Doctor 
 Ward. " This very afternoon, not long before din- 
 ner, I heard you and two or three of your friends, 
 in the music-room, singing, and one of the things 
 you sang was that very song, only you sang it 
 this way : Repack my body to me, same old 
 body." 
 
 There was another shout. 
 
 "Oh, papa, you funny!" cried Marjorie. 
 " It isn't body at all. It's ' Bring back my 
 Bonny to me.' It's a girl's name. The first 
 line is, * My Bonny lies over the ocean ! ' " 
 
 "That's it," said the doctor. "When you
 
 220 EUNICE AND CRICKET. 
 
 sang, ' My body lies over the ocean,' I thought 
 it was a strange thing to mislay." 
 
 Whereupon Marjorie went to the piano and 
 insisted on playing the whole thing through, 
 and having Eunice join her in singing it. 
 
 The next rehearsal day, Eunice and Cricket 
 were promptly on hand. Presently all the girls 
 were there but Isabel Fleming. Miss Raymond, 
 the elocution teacher, came in, herself, at the 
 last moment. 
 
 " I was unexpectedly detained. All here ? Isa- 
 bel Fleming isn't missing again to-day, is she ? 
 What a provoking child! This is the third 
 time she has been absent, and she really needs 
 more drill than any one of you, for she is so 
 careless.' 1 Miss Raymond's black eyes snapped 
 impatiently, and the girls were glad they were 
 not the delinquent Isabel. " Wouldn't she catch 
 it the next day ? " the girls' silent exchange of 
 glances said. 
 
 " Here / leave pressing work to come here 
 and drill you, for your own benefit and advan- 
 tage, outside of school hours," went on Miss 
 Raymond, indignantly ; " I often give up engage- 
 ments that I wish to make, for ungrateful girls 
 who are not even responsible for what they
 
 SCHOOL THEATRICALS. 221 
 
 undertake. You ought to be as ashamed to 
 break an engagement as you would be to tell 
 a lie." 
 
 " That is very true," said Miss Emmet quietly. 
 " However, we won't scold the girls who are 
 here, on account of those who are not. I will 
 see Isabel to-morrow." 
 
 " They all need a talking-to, though," cried 
 irate Miss Raymond. " They all happen to be 
 here to-day; but I believe every one of them 
 has missed rehearsals, with the exception of 
 Eunice Ward." 
 
 " Mamma won't let me," said Eunice honestly. 
 
 " Your mother's a sensible woman, then," said 
 Miss Raymond. " Now, Miss Emmet, what are 
 we to do ? It spoils the play so, to have me 
 read Isabel's part. I can't drill them properly, 
 and they don't do justice to their own parts." 
 
 " If you like, Miss Emmet, I will take Isabel's 
 part," said Cricket, in her bright, unconscious 
 way, after a telegraphic despatch to Eunice, 
 with her eyebrows. 
 
 " But you don't know it, child, and it's the 
 reading it at all that I object to. Not acting 
 it, puts the others out," said Miss Raymond, 
 pulling off her gloves.
 
 222 EUNICE AND CRICKET. 
 
 " I mean, I can say it," explained Cricket. 
 " 1 can't act it very well, of course, but perhaps 
 it would do. I know all the part." 
 
 " Do you ? Well, then, you can try it. It 
 won't be worse, at any rate, than my reading 
 it, and keeping my eye on the girls at the same 
 time. Stand here, and be ready for your 
 cue." 
 
 The speech was ungracious, for Miss Ray- 
 mond was always sharp-tongued, but she patted 
 Cricket's cheek, approvingly. 
 
 The rehearsal began. Cricket was excited, 
 but she had her wits about her, for this work 
 was what she loved. 
 
 " You are doing very well, child," said Miss 
 Raymond, when she went off the stage. Cricket 
 was so eager to fill in just right, that she never 
 thought of herself. The little play was re- 
 hearsed twice through, and the second time 
 Cricket did still better. Of course not as well 
 as the girls who had been drilling for two weeks 
 already, for she did not always get the right 
 position on the stage, sometimes turned her 
 back to the imaginary audience, did not leave 
 at the right moment, every time, and never 
 spoke loud enough.
 
 SCHOOL THEATRICALS. 223 
 
 Nevertheless, on the whole, the rehearsal was 
 very satisfactory. 
 
 Miss Raymond said a few words to Miss 
 Emmet while the children were resting. Miss 
 Emmet nodded assent. When the girls were 
 leaving, Miss Emmet detained Eunice and 
 Cricket a moment. 
 
 " Miss Raymond and I spoke of replacing 
 Isabel Fleming two or three days ago," she said. 
 " I told her, the last time she was absent, that I 
 should fill her place if she failed again. Now, 
 Jean, I wish you would ask your mother if she 
 has any objection to your taking the part of 
 Nancy. You know the part already, and we 
 can soon train you in the acting." 
 
 Cricket's eyes grew bigger and bigger. To 
 act a part in that wonderful play ! 
 
 "Will your mother permit her, do you 
 think ? " Miss Emmet asked Eunice. " Jean 
 is rather younger than the girls are when they 
 first take part, usually, but I think she will do." 
 
 " Yes, indeed, I think mamma will be will- 
 ing," beamed Eunice. 
 
 "I come to all the rehearsals now," said 
 Cricket, eagerly, " and I know the part perfectly, 
 and I am sure mamma will let me."
 
 224 EUNICE AND CRICKET. 
 
 The girls almost danced down the street. 
 
 " I'd rehearse every day in the week, and all 
 night too," said Cricket, fervently, to mamma, 
 when the latter warned her again that she 
 must not let anything interfere with rehearsing. 
 " We will not ask to shirk it once, no matter 
 what we want to do." 
 
 " That's the only condition you can undertake 
 it on," said mamma. " If you do it at all, you 
 must do it thoroughly, you know." 
 
 The condition seemed a very small one to the 
 children, as only a week remained before the 
 eventful Friday night. The rehearsals were 
 never more than an hour long, and generally 
 not more than three-quarters of an hour at a 
 time, but they came every other day. 
 
 It was Monday afternoon, the Monday before 
 the play. A rehearsal was appointed for three 
 o'clock. As the girls came out into the street 
 from school, one of their friends joined them, beg- 
 ging them to come and see her in the afternoon. 
 Her mother, she said, had just come home from 
 New York, and brought her many pretty things, 
 as well as a great box of Huyler's candy. She 
 wanted Eunice and Cricket to see the things 
 and help eat the candy. Eunice, remembering
 
 SCHOOL THEATRICAL^. 225 
 
 the rehearsal, said no very firmly, though her 
 resolution was somewhat shaken when she 
 learned that most of the candy was chocolate. 
 
 " It's so far over there that we wouldn't have 
 time to come before rehearsal, but we might go 
 over at four, couldn't we, Eunice?" asked 
 Cricket, hopefully. 
 
 " Oh, how provoking ! You see, I have a 
 music lesson at four, and Mr. Schwarz is so 
 cross if I'm a minute late ; and I know there 
 won't be anything left of that candy to offer 
 you, after the children get hold of it. Can't you 
 skip rehearsal, just once ? " 
 
 " No, we've engaged not to," said Eunice. 
 " It would be nice, but we mustn't, Elsie. 
 Good-bye. Cricket, we'll be late to luncheon 
 if we don't hurry." 
 
 It chanced that mamma had an engagement 
 at the dentist's, and had to hurry away from the 
 luncheon table. 
 
 " And I shan't be home till late in the after- 
 noon, girls," she added, " for, after I leave the 
 dentist, I have several people to see on Guild 
 business. Be prompt with Miss Raymond, my 
 little maids, and do well." 
 
 She was hardly out of sight when a group of
 
 226 EUNICE AND CRICKET. 
 
 little school friends trooped up the steps. Eunice 
 and Cricket, standing in the window, saw them 
 coming, and flew down to the hall to meet them. 
 
 " Get your things on right away," they cried, 
 in a chorus. " They say there is splendid skat- 
 ing on the lake, and we're all going out there. 
 It will probably be gone by to-morrow, they say. 
 Do hurry, girls ! " 
 
 "Oh, jolly!" cried Cricket, flying away. 
 Then she stopped short, and looked at Eunice. 
 
 " We can't go, girls," said Eunice, soberly. 
 "We have rehearsal at three." 
 
 "Oh, cut for once ! All the girls have cut 
 sometime, you know. You can't be there 
 
 " It's such a nuisance when everybody isn't 
 there, though. But I'm just dying for a skate," 
 said Cricket, wistfully. " How I wish we could 
 go!" 
 
 " Come, do cut," some one urged.. " Let Miss 
 Raymond scold. Ask your mother. She'll let 
 you." Eunice wavered. Wouldn't mamma let 
 her if she only knew about this ? Such a very 
 special occasion ! They had been so very punc- 
 tual and regular, not a single time had they 
 missed rehearsal, and they knew their parts
 
 SCHOOL THEATRICALS. 227 
 
 perfectly. Indeed, this was an extra rehearsal, 
 appointed for the special benefit of some girl 
 who had been absent twice. Could not they let 
 it go for once ? Eunice and Cricket looked at 
 each other wistfully. 
 
 " I believe " began Eunice, slowly. 
 
 " Oh, goody ! fly up-stairs fast, and get your 
 things on. It's getting awfully late, now, to get 
 off." 
 
 Eunice still hesitated; then she suddenly 
 braced herself. 
 
 " No," she said, backing off, with her hands 
 behind her back, as though there were some- 
 thing she was forbidden to touch. Then she 
 spoke very fast, lest her determination should 
 waver again. 
 
 " We can't possibly go. We've promised 
 mamma we wouldn't shirk once, no matter 
 what came up, and we can't. We're awfully 
 sorry, but we can't. You go on, girls. It's 
 getting late." 
 
 It certainly required much resolution to say 
 this, in the face of those glittering skates and 
 beseeching eyes, but Eunice's tone was so firm 
 that the girls wasted no further coaxing, and 
 went off with many an expression of regret.
 
 228 EUNICE AND CRICKET. 
 
 Eunice and Cricket each drew a long breath, 
 and looked at each other resignedly. 
 
 " Now let's get ready to go straight off be- 
 fore anything else happens," said Eunice, with 
 asumed briskness. 
 
 " I don't feel as if the self-denying part of me 
 could do that again. It's most worn out," said 
 Cricket, mournfully, as they went up-stairs. 
 " Think ! the skating will surely be gone to- 
 morrow ! It never lasts but two or three days." 
 
 As they finally shut the front door behind 
 them and went down the steps, Mrs. Dray ton's 
 carriage drew up before the house, and Emily's 
 eager head popped itself forward. 
 
 " Girls ! girls ! where are you going ? I'm so 
 glad I'm in time to catch you. I want you to 
 go for a drive." 
 
 "Oh, Emily!" cried Eunice, despairingly. 
 " Don't say one word about anything. I'm just 
 about crazy ! Everything nice is happening 
 this afternoon, when we've just got to go to 
 rehearsal." 
 
 ''Must you go ?" said Emily, disappointedly. 
 " I'd made up my mind to have a nice, long 
 drive. I've had such a cold that I have not 
 been out for a week, but to-day is so clear and
 
 SCHOOL THEATRICALS. 229 
 
 bright that mamma said I might come out and 
 get you both, and I want you so much !" 
 
 "I'm just as much disappointed as you, 
 Emily," sighed Eunice. " I'm tired to death of 
 rehearsals, but we must go, because we promised 
 mamma we wouldn't shirk." 
 
 " You can get some one else to go with you, 
 Emily," said Cricket, who had waited, younger- 
 sister fashion, for Eunice to decide the matter. 
 
 " Of course I can get plenty of people," said 
 Emily, petulantly ; " but I want you. Oh, do 
 come ! We'll stop at the school and say I 
 wouldn't let you get out." 
 
 Emily was very used to having her own way. 
 Eunice opened her eyes wide. 
 
 " Oh, we couldn't tell Miss Raymond that ! " 
 she exclaimed, in great surprise. " Please don't 
 coax, Emily. It makes it so hard." 
 
 " There's three o'clock now," put in Cricket, 
 as the hour struck from a neighbouring tower. 
 " Rehearsal is at three, and we've never been 
 late before." 
 
 Emily looked ready to cry. 
 
 " It's too bad of you. You might come if 
 you wanted to. You'd rather go to a mean old re- 
 hearsal than come with me. I know you would."
 
 230 EUNICE AND CRICKET. 
 
 "Emily, how silly!" cried Cricket, in de- 
 spair. " As if we wouldn't rather go with you 
 a billion times, yes, a virgintillion. Don't 
 you see? We've promised."" 
 
 "Please don't be cross about it," begged 
 Eunice. " You can get somebody and have 
 a lovely drive, and we have to miss everything 
 and be scolded for being late, besides. We 
 must go, Cricket, or we'll have our heads taken 
 off." And Eunice, as she spoke, sprang up on 
 the carriage steps and kissed her little friend, 
 coaxingly. 
 
 Emily sighed. 
 
 " Can you drive to-morrow then ? I'll come 
 early." 
 
 " If we don't have rehearsal. We'll ride with 
 you now as far as the school, if you'll take us." 
 
 " All this trial and temptation," sighed Cricket, 
 soberly, as they went up the school steps, "and 
 probably being scolded for being late into the 
 bargain." 
 
 Fortunately, however, when they reached the 
 room, Miss Raymond herself was late, having 
 been detained by some lesson. All the girls 
 were already there, and soon they were at 
 work.
 
 SCHOOL THEATRICALS. 231 
 
 " This has been a thoroughly satisfactory 
 rehearsal," said Miss Raymond, with unusual 
 cordiality. " Everybody is on hand, and you've 
 all done well. I thought last Saturday you 
 would have to rehearse every day this week, 
 but now we will do no more till the dress- 
 rehearsal on Thursday. You've done splen- 
 didly." 
 
 Praise from Miss Raymond was so rare that 
 the girls beamed. 
 
 " Isn't it fortunate that we didn't cut ? " said 
 Eunice, as they went homewards. " Now we can 
 go to-morrow with a clear conscience, and this 
 afternoon we would have felt guilty all the 
 time." 
 
 " Yes, and had to rehearse to-morrow, too, if 
 we'd cut this afternoon." 
 
 The eventful Friday evening arrived in due 
 course of time, and an enthusiastic and expec- 
 tant audience crowded the schoolroom at St. 
 Agatha's. The juniors' play was first on the 
 programme. Eunice, in her part of maid, was 
 very taking in her becoming costume, with its 
 little mob-cap and jaunty apron. Cricket, as 
 saucy Nancy, who was always listening behind 
 doors, and getting into trouble, made a decided
 
 232 EUNICE AND CKICKET. 
 
 hit. The other girls were all so good in their 
 parts that it was hard to say, after all, which 
 was best. Everything went smoothly, as it should 
 with a well-trained, well-disciplined set of girls. 
 The French play was beautifully given by the 
 seniors. 
 
 The programme closed with some pretty drills 
 and marches, for which they had been trained 
 by their teacher of physical culture, as part of 
 their school work. For this they had had no 
 other preparation than their regular daily half- 
 hour in the gymnasium. 
 
 "All this means much work on your part, 
 Miss Emmet," Mrs. Ward said, appreciatively, to 
 the head of the school, as people were congratu- 
 lating her on her beautifully trained girls. 
 
 " And much on the girls' part, as well," 
 answered Miss Emmet, cordially. " They learn 
 many valuable lessons, during the time we 
 take to prepare all this, besides their school 
 work." 
 
 " Certainly lessons in self-denial and persist- 
 ency and promptness," said Mrs. Ward, smiling. 
 " My little girls have certainly learned the neces- 
 sity of keeping engagements, no matter what 
 more interesting things come up." And she
 
 SCHOOL THEATRICALS. 233 
 
 told Miss Emmet of the Monday before, and its 
 accumulation of disappointments. 
 
 Miss Emmet laughed, but she looked sympa- 
 thising, also. 
 
 " That's exactly what I mean. It all goes 
 into character-building."
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 A DAY IN THE NURSERY. 
 
 HAVE I said that George Washington and, 
 of course, Martha had accompanied the chil- 
 dren to town when they returned home ? He 
 became as much an institution at No. 25 
 Street as at Marbury. He had his apartments 
 in the nursery, and behaved himself very haugh- 
 tily to the kitchen cat, when the latter was occa- 
 sionally brought up from the regions below for 
 a visit. 
 
 George Washington had grown up to be a big, 
 black, lustrous creature, with emerald eyes, and 
 a bit of white fur under his chin, just like a 
 cravat. The boys called him the bishop for his 
 stateliness. He no longer played with Martha, 
 nor chased her around. Unmolested, she waved 
 proudly over his back in a stately curve. 
 
 George Washington was moderately obedient, 
 but went his own way just often enough to assert 
 his perfect independence. He submitted with
 
 A DAY IN THE NURSERY. 235 
 
 quiet dignity to the many performances that the 
 children put him through, yet if they went a step 
 too far, he would look at them so severely with his 
 emerald eyes that the mere glance would immedi- 
 ately make them change their minds and pretend 
 they meant something altogether different. 
 
 Thursday was Eliza's afternoon out. On this 
 particular Thursday, Marjorie was left in charge 
 of the nursery. Mamma was obliged to attend 
 some important club meeting, and Eunice and 
 Cricket had gone to see Emily Drayton. It 
 was a damp, drizzling day, so that the little 
 nursery people could not get their usual walk, 
 and they all missed it. Zaidie, particularly, 
 was always very dependent upon the out of-door 
 exercise, which her vigorous little body needed. 
 
 Marjorie, who often took charge of the nurs- 
 ery in Eliza's off-days, sat reading by the broad 
 window, curled up on the window-seat, while the 
 children played about the room. As they were 
 always used to entertaining themselves, and were 
 usually left, as far as possible, to their own de- 
 vices, the person in charge only needed to keep 
 a general oversight. 
 
 The twins were playing church, which was 
 one of their favourite amusements. George
 
 236 EUNICE AND CRICKET. 
 
 Washington was the minister. He was clad 
 in a doll's petticoat, fastened about his neck 
 for a surplice, and a black ribbon for a stole. 
 He was sitting up in state behind a pile of 
 books that served for a lectern. He knew his 
 part perfectly, and sat as still as any bishop. 
 By pinching his tail very slightly and carefully, 
 he could be made to mew at the proper mo- 
 ments, without disturbing him much. 
 
 Helen played the mother, bringing her child, 
 Zaidie, to church. Zaidie, of course, pretended 
 she was a naughty girl, and talked out loud in 
 service. Kenneth played the father, who was to 
 take Zaidie out of church, when she grew too 
 naughty. It was also his business to pinch 
 George Washington's tail at the right time, 
 which was whenever Zaidie gave him orders. 
 Just a little pinch, most carefully given, was 
 all that was required, but now and then Ken- 
 neth forgot, and gave too hard a squeeze. 
 When this happened, George Washington turned 
 and slapped at them with his paw, with a very 
 emphatic mew, which plainly meant, "I am 
 quite willing to do my part towards your amuse- 
 ment, but if you take too many liberties, I won't 
 play."
 
 A DAY IX THE NURSERY. 237 
 
 On one of these occasions, Zaidie suddenly 
 stopped in the midst of a pretended roar at hav- 
 ing her ears boxed by Helen, very tenderly 
 boxed, and listened. 
 
 " I don't think that George Washington has 
 his usual kind of mew to-day," she said, criticis- 
 ingly. " Don't you think he squeaks a little ? " 
 
 Helen listened, with her head on one side. 
 
 " Pinch him again, Kenneth," she said. "Just 
 a little, very carefully. Yes, I think he does 
 squeak. Do you think he is getting rusty in- 
 side ? He drinks a lot of water, and it made 
 the sewing-machine all rusty when you poured 
 water over it." 
 
 Here George Washington mewed again vigor- 
 ously, in response to Kenneth's invitation. 
 
 " Where does the mew come from, I won- 
 der," said Zaidie, thoughtfully, surveying the 
 cat. "Is it in his mouth, or down in his 
 throat ? " 
 
 She poked her fingers in his mouth, and 
 felt around a little. George Washington re- 
 belled. 
 
 " Don't scratch me, George. I aren't hurting 
 you a bit," said Zaidie, reprovingly. "I want 
 to know where your mew is, cause, if it's getting
 
 238 EUNICE AND CRICKET. 
 
 rusty, I'm going to oil you, same as 'Liza does 
 the machine." 
 
 " Can cats be oiled ? " asked Helen, doubt- 
 fully. 
 
 " Oh, yes, I 'xpect so," returned Zaidie, cheer- 
 fully. " Don't you think so ? Don't you s'pose 
 they get dried up inside sometimes ? Kenneth's 
 little squeaky lamb does. I'll get the machine- 
 oiler." 
 
 Marjorie, curled up on the window-seat, did 
 not heed the children's chatter. Zaidie got the 
 little machine-can, which once, in an evil hour, 
 Eliza had shown her how to use. 
 
 " Mew again, George Washington," ordered 
 Zaidie, " so I can find out where it comes from. 
 If he mews in his mouth, I can put the oil on 
 his tongue." 
 
 A slight pinch immediately brought an an- 
 swer from George Washington. Zaidie listened 
 carefully, with her ear close at his head. 
 
 " It isn't in his mouth," she said, positively. 
 " I think it's down his throat. How can I oil 
 him down there ? I'm afraid I'll hurt him if I 
 stick this long end down." 
 
 " Do you s'pose those little holes in his ears 
 are oil-holes ? " asked Helen, brightening.
 
 IX THE NTHSKKY.
 
 A DAY IN THE NURSERY. 241 
 
 Zaidie immediately experimented with her 
 tiny finger, much to George Washington's dis- 
 gust. 
 
 " They go pretty far down," she said, sooth- 
 ing and petting him. 
 
 "Never mind, I'm not going to hurt you," 
 she said, reassuringly. " I'm just going to put 
 some nice, soft oil down your little oil-holes, 
 and then you'll feel so better, you can't think ! 
 Your voice is all rusty. 'Liza says things won't 
 go if they're rusty, and bimeby your voice won't 
 go, and you'd be sorry, for you like to talk, 
 you know." 
 
 As she spoke, Zaidie tried to poke the oil- 
 can down his ears. George Washington jerked 
 away. 
 
 " Here, Helen, you hold his hands, and Ken- 
 neth, you hold his feet tight. That's right. 
 Don't let go," ordered Zaidie, getting her assist- 
 ants into place. " Now, George, I won't hurt you 
 much, and it's for your own good, you know," 
 with a funny imitation of Eliza's tone. 
 
 Zaidie tipped the little oil-can and poked it 
 carefully down into George Washington's unwil- 
 ling oar. It tickled him, and he shook his head 
 impatiently. The children held him rigidly,
 
 242 EUKICE AND CRICKET. 
 
 and Zaidie let the cold oil trickle down. At 
 the first touch of it, George Washington gave a 
 wild yelp, and with extended claws and uprising 
 fur, he sprang from the children's grasp, leaving 
 such a dig in Kenneth's soft little hand that he 
 immediately set up an unearthly howl, which 
 brought Marjorie to the rescue. 
 
 The astonished twins stood staring at each 
 other. Marjorie took up Kenneth in her arms, 
 kissed the hurt place, and asked the children 
 what they had been doing to excite George 
 Washington to such an unusual pitch of wrath. 
 
 "We only tried to oil him in his little oil- 
 holes in his ears, 'cause he squeaked so, Mar- 
 jorie," explained bewildered Zaidie, " and I 
 don't believe he liked it. But his voice was 
 dreffully rusty, truly it was." 
 
 "Oil him?" said Marjorie. "You absurd 
 child ! Animals don't need oiling." 
 
 " Yes, they do" insisted Zaidie. " 'Liza oiled 
 Kenneth's baa-lamb the other day. The big 
 woolly one, up there, you know. She oiled it 
 down in its squeaks. And she rubbed some- 
 thing greasy on my chest when I had the croup. 
 Don't you remember how my breath squeaked ? 
 She said she oiled me. There ! "
 
 A DAY IX THE NURSERY. 243 
 
 " Oh, you funny little things ! " said Marjorie, 
 laughing at them. " Well, don't try it again, 
 anyway, on George Washington. He doesn't 
 like it, you see, and you don't want to be 
 scratched, do you ? Don't cry any more, baby, 
 dear. You're a little man, and men don't cry 
 for a scratch like that, you know." 
 
 Marjorie set the children playing something 
 else, and then returned to her book. She was 
 usually a capable and efficient guardian in the 
 nursery, eldest-daughter fashion, but this after- 
 noon she was deep in a fascinating book that 
 must go back to the library to-morrow. In two 
 minutes she was absorbed in it again, to the 
 exclusion of her little charges. 
 
 Zaidie looked around for pastures new. The 
 children were not usually a mischievous set, but 
 now and then, like grown people, they delighted 
 in the unexpected. 
 
 As Helen wanted a drink, all three trooped 
 into the nursery bathroom, which opened off 
 the nursery. It was a pretty bathroom, with 
 the walls covered with blue and white sanitary 
 paper, in a pretty tile-pattern, each tile having 
 on it a Mother-Goose figure. A big, white, fur 
 rug lay by the white porcelain bath-tub. A
 
 244 EUNICE AND CRICKET. 
 
 small water-cooler stood on a shelf, low enough 
 for the children to help themselves to water. 
 
 After the little flock had been watered all 
 around, Zaidie's quick eyes spied a bottle of 
 vaseline on the wash-stand. It had been left 
 there by mistake. All those things were gener- 
 ally put away in a little medicine closet, safely 
 out of the children's reach. It was quite a 
 good-sized jar, and entirely full. Zaidie took 
 out the cork. 
 
 " I think I've got a sore spot on me some- 
 where," she said, feeling carefully all over her 
 face. " I think I need some vasling on it. Do 
 you see a sore spot on me, Helen ? " 
 
 Helen looked, but could not find any place 
 that seemed to need vaseline, even after the 
 closest study of Zaidie's round, satin-cheeked 
 little face. 
 
 " Put it on anywhere," she advised. " Per- 
 haps it may get sore, and then the vasling will 
 be already on." 
 
 Smearing vaseline all over Zaidie's face led, of 
 course, to bedaubing Helen and Kenneth, also, 
 with a liberal plaster of the sticky stuff. 
 
 " Doesn't it stay on beautifully f Let's paint 
 the bath-room with it ? " suggested Zaidie, " and
 
 A DAY IN THE NURSERY. 245 
 
 make it all pretty. We can take our teeth- 
 brushes." 
 
 This idea was an inspiration. In a moment, 
 arming themselves with their tooth-brushes, the 
 children fell energetically to work. In five min- 
 utes the bathroom was a perfect bower of vasel- 
 ine, and the small workers were sticky from 
 head to foot. 
 
 Meanwhile Marjorie read on, obliviously. 
 
 " Doesn't it make the room look beautiful f " 
 cried Zaidie, rapturously. " I guess 'Liza'll be 
 pleased when she sees how pretty we've made it. 
 And see the wood, too. It shines splendidly." 
 
 Here an unguarded flourish on Kenneth's part 
 left a long smear of vaseline on Zaidie' s short, 
 smooth locks. 
 
 " Oh, it makes it look like mine ! " exclaimed 
 Helen, struck by the yellow gleam on Zaidie's 
 black hair. 
 
 " Does it ?" asked Zaidie, eagerly. Each little 
 girl was smitten with a boundless admiration of 
 the other's hair, for Helen's fluffy corn-silk mop 
 was a great trial to her quiet little soul, and she 
 admired Zaidie's smooth, silky black hair, with 
 all her heart ; while Zaidie, on the other hand, 
 longed to possess Helen's golden tangle.
 
 246 EUNICE AND CRICKET. 
 
 " Put vasling thick all over my head," she 
 demanded, instantly, " to make it yellow. Per- 
 haps mamma will let me wear it all the time, 
 and then perhaps it will grow yellow like yours. 
 I'd love that." 
 
 " Then I wish I could make mine black like 
 yours," sighed Helen, wistfully. " Couldn't I 
 paint it, do you suppose ? " 
 
 Zaidie clapped her hands over this delightful 
 idea. 
 
 " Then we would have changed hairs ! What 
 fun! Let's find something to paint it with, 
 Helen. Here's 'Liza's shoe-blacking. Wouldn't 
 that do ? It makes her shoes so shiny and 
 black." 
 
 At the sight of the black liquid, dainty Helen 
 shrunk back a little. 
 
 " It it wouldn't get on my face, would it ? " 
 she asked, doubtfully. " I'd like to paint my 
 hair, but I don't want my face painted too." 
 
 " Pooh, no ! " said Zaidie, drawing out the 
 sponge. " We'll be careful. Now hold very 
 still, Helen." 
 
 The little hair-dresser drew a long dab with 
 the dripping sponge over Helen's yellow curls. 
 Helen held her breath. Zaidie repeated the
 
 A DAY IN THE NURSERY. 247 
 
 dabs, growing more reckless, till a careless flirt 
 of the sponge sent a liberal spatter down Helen's 
 face, and on her white apron. 
 
 " Ow ! ow ! " wailed Helen, who could bear a 
 scratch better than dirt, or a stain. She in- 
 stinctively put up her hands to her face, to rub 
 it dry, and, of course, her hands were all 
 streaked, also. 
 
 " There, Zaidie ! " she half sobbed, " you have 
 painted my face, too, 'n' I'm afraid it won't come 
 off, and I'll have to go round looking like a little 
 nigger-girl ! " 
 
 At this tragic picture, Zaidie looked fright- 
 ened, and instantly applied her wee handker- 
 chief, with dire results to the handkerchief, and 
 no good effect on the face. 
 
 "See how her looks!" cried Kenneth, glee- 
 fully, with his hands deep in his small trousers' 
 pockets. 
 
 Helen wailed. There were large tracts of 
 shoe-polish on her pearly skin, and her tears 
 chased little furrows along them. Zaidie 
 scrubbed harder and harder with her handker- 
 chief, but she began to grow rather frightened 
 at the results of her painting. 
 
 " It doesn't come off very well," she admitted
 
 248 EUNICE AND CRICKET. 
 
 at last, pausing in some dismay. " And I don't 
 think I like your hair painted, anyway, Helen. 
 It looks so mixy, you know." 
 
 Truly, poor little Helen was a spectacle. Her 
 soft hair was plastered down in black patches on 
 her forehead, and big drops of blacking, gather- 
 ing on the end of each plastered lock, dropped 
 down on her nose and cheeks. Of course it did 
 not stick where the vaseline had been rubbed, so 
 her face was well smeared with a mixture of 
 greasiness and shoe-polish. Her white apron was 
 well spattered, and her hands were, by this time, 
 like a little blackamoor's. 
 
 "Her won't ever get white any more, I 
 'xpect," said Kenneth, cheerfully. "I blacked 
 my Noah's Ark once, and it didn't ever come 
 off. Don't you memember ? " 
 
 Here the children's feelings completely over- 
 came them, and Zaidie and Helen set up a 
 shriek in concert that brought Marjorie to the 
 bathroom. 
 
 " Oh, you naughty, naughty children ! " she 
 cried, in blank despair. " How shall I ever get 
 you clean ? Shoe-polish? Oh, horrors!" 
 
 Marjorie was really frightened lest the stain 
 should not come out of Helen's hair.
 
 A DAY IN THE NURSERY. 249 
 
 Zaidie roared louder, and Helen sobbed, while 
 Kenneth, suddenly overcome by sympathy, added 
 his voice to the uproar. 
 
 " Children, how could you ? " said Marjorie 
 again, walking around Helen, and wondering 
 where to get hold of her best. 
 
 " You ought to have come here and told us 
 to don't,'' sobbed Zaidie. "We always don't 
 when 'Liza tells us to. You readed and readed 
 all the time, and you never told us to don't." 
 
 "Don't shriek so, Zaidie; I'm not deaf," 
 said Marjorie, ignoring the other point for the 
 present. " Don't cry so, Helen. You may get 
 the blacking in your eyes. Stand still, and I'll 
 try to strip your clothes off. Don't touch me, 
 dear, or you'll stain my things." 
 
 u Whatever's the matter, Miss Marjorie ? " 
 said Eliza's voice from the doorway. " Oh, 
 you naughty children ! How have you been and 
 gone and gotten yourselves into such a mess ? " 
 
 "Oh, 'Liza!" cried Marjorie, thankfully. 
 " I'm so glad you've come ! Will this black 
 ever come out of her hair?" 
 
 " Land knows ! Did I ever see such a place 
 in all my born days ? " casting a hurried glance 
 around at the sticky, shiny bathroom.
 
 250 EUNICE AND CRICKET. 
 
 " She readed all the time, and she didn't ever 
 tell us to don't," said Zaidie, pointing a re- 
 proachful finger at Marjorie, and thereby easing 
 her own small conscience of a load. 
 
 " I jest guess you knew better'n that your- 
 self," said 'Liza. " But how could you let 'em 
 do so, Miss Marjorie ? " 
 
 " I was so interested in my book," stammered 
 conscience-stricken Marjorie. " They're usually 
 so good, you know." 
 
 " When you take care of children, you've got 
 to take care of children," returned Eliza, some- 
 what tartly. " 'Taint all their badness. I dunno 
 what their mother will say to it all. You go on, 
 Miss Marjorie. I'll tend right up to 'em now, 
 myself. Shoe-polish, of all things! Hope to 
 goodness I'll get it out of that child's hair." 
 
 Eliza's deft, experienced fingers flew while 
 she talked. Only stopping to throw off her out- 
 of-door things, she had turned the water on in 
 the bath-tub, had taken a cloth and wiped off 
 the sides of the tub, which were reeking with 
 vaseline, and had gotten hold of Helen at arm's 
 length and stripped her clothes off. She 
 plunged the sobbing, frightened child in the 
 tub, and began scrubbing her vigorously.
 
 A DAY IN THE NURSERY. 251 
 
 Marjorie retreated, feeling very low in her 
 mind, because she had so neglected her little 
 charges in the nursery. Mrs. Ward was always 
 strict about the thorough, conscientious per- 
 formance of any duty, and would never overlook 
 any carelessness or neglect, either from chil- 
 dren or servants. Besides the thought of her 
 mother's displeasure because she had not been 
 faithful, she was really dreadfully worried lest 
 the black stain should not come out of Helen's 
 hair. Kenneth was only just beginning to look 
 like himself again, after his last-summer ex- 
 perience with the fire. It would be such a 
 shame if Helen had to lose her lovely hair, too. 
 
 An hour later the nursery door opened and 
 Helen, fresh and sweet and clean, ran joyfully 
 across to Marjorie's room. 
 
 " See ! I'm all im-painted, Marjie ! I'm never 
 going to try to get black hair again," she cried. 
 " Look ! it's all out ! " holding up with both 
 hands her silken topknot, which, washed and 
 dried, was shining again like spun gold. 
 
 " 'Liza said she scrubbed me nearly out of the 
 roots, but it's all dry now, and the vasling is all off 
 too. 'Liza doesn't like the bathroom that way, 
 either. She's scrubbing the vasling off that now.
 
 252 EUNICE AND CRICKET. 
 
 I can't stay any longer, 'cause 'Liza said only 
 stay two minutes, else I'd get into some mis- 
 chief here, but I wouldn't, truly." 
 
 Marjorie winced, but there was nothing to 
 be said. She kissed Helen and sent her back.
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 A GOAT EPISODE. * 
 
 EUNICE sat curled up in a little bunch on the 
 floor. Her forehead was very much knit, and 
 her eyes were very much screwed up. She was 
 fussing busily with a piece of red ribbon and a 
 red Tarn o'Shanter. 
 
 " What are you doing, Eunice ? " asked Mar- 
 jorie, looking in, in passing the door. 
 
 " I'm fixing my Tarn," Eunice replied, cocking 
 her head critically on one side, and surveying 
 the cap as she held it up on her fist. " It 
 doesn't fit my head very well, and I thought 
 I'd poke it up on one side with a red ribbon bow 
 and this red quill, like May Chester's." 
 
 " I don't think Eunice has a very Tammy 
 head," struck in Cricket, from the window-seat. 
 " Her Tarn never stays on a minute ; her hair's 
 so slippery. Frousy hair like mine has one 
 
 Cricket's curly topknot kept her scarlet skat-
 
 254 EUNICE AND CRICKET. 
 
 ing-cap always in the right place, but Eunice's 
 satin-smooth hair did not afford a good founda- 
 tion for her hats. 
 
 " I can't get it right, though," said Eunice, 
 despairingly. She was hot and tired, and if the 
 truth must be told, a little cross. " This ribbon 
 won't go in the right place, somehow." 
 
 " I tried to make a rosette, but it wouldn't 
 rosettate" said Cricket, putting down her book 
 and coming forward to help look on. " Let 
 Marjorie do it, Eunice. It looks so un-stylish 
 the way you have it." 
 
 " No, I don't want to," said Eunice, holding 
 on to her cap. " I want to do it myself. Mar- 
 jorie doesn't know what I want." 
 
 " Yes, I do, child," said Marjorie, trying to 
 take the ribbon. "I can do it in a moment. 
 Let me have it." 
 
 " No, I won't," said Eunice, decidedly. " I can 
 do it myself." 
 
 " But why won't you let me ? " urged Marjorie. 
 
 " I haven't any reason. I just want to won't," 
 answered Eunice, half laughing. " There, go 
 away, Marjorie. I'm so cross that I want to 
 bite nails." 
 
 Eunice was always an independent little body,
 
 A GOAT EPISODE. 255 
 
 so Marjorie, with a pat on her head, left her 
 struggling with the Tarn. Cricket went back to 
 her book, and Eunice worked on for ten minutes 
 in silence. 
 
 " There ! " she said at last, in a tone of tri- 
 umph, holding up her cap on her hand. " It's 
 done. That looks all right, too, doesn't it, when 
 I put it on ? You see, when it's on crooked, then 
 it's straight. Do you see that quirk? That's 
 very stylish," and Eunice paraded up and down 
 before the glass. 
 
 " Isn't it quirky ? " said Cricket, admiringly. 
 " Let's go down to the library now for mamma. 
 You know she wanted us to go before this after- 
 noon with those books. You can wear your cap." 
 
 " Exactly what I meant to do, Miss Scricket. 
 Get the books and come on." 
 
 It was Saturday morning. The night before 
 had been rainy, but it had cleared off bright and 
 very cold, leaving all the sidewalks covered with 
 a glare of ice. Ashes and sand were liberally 
 sprinkled, but walking was, nevertheless, a mat- 
 ter needing some care. 
 
 The girls went carefully down the front steps, 
 which were somewhat slippery, although they 
 had already been scraped.
 
 256 EUNICE AND CRICKET. 
 
 " And there comes Johnnie-goat, prancing 
 along as if he were on his native rocks," said 
 Eunice, looking personally injured, as the big, 
 white goat came sauntering abstractedly down 
 the street, in the distance. 
 
 " I don't think he looks as goatified as usual, 
 though," said Cricket, glancing over her shoul- 
 der. " Poor old Johnnie ! I haven't seen him 
 for ages. Let's get another picture of him, 
 sometime, Eunice." 
 
 The camera had by no means been forgotten 
 all winter. Many pictures had been taken, 
 although the girls had never developed any 
 more by themselves. They had taken many 
 pretty views of different things. They had the 
 twins in nearly every possible attitude, and 
 numberless pictures of each other. Only the 
 out-door views were much of a success, though, 
 and they were looking forward with great antici- 
 pation to Kayuna, next summer, where they 
 meant to photograph every stick and stone. 
 
 Eunice and Cricket walked along rather 
 slowly, swinging hands. Each had a library 
 book under the outside arm. Cricket was de- 
 scribing very vividly something she had seen on 
 the street, the day before.
 
 A GOAT EPISODE. 257 
 
 " It was the funniest thing ! Those two 
 ladies, all dressed to kill, came flying out of 
 the house and down the steps, signalling to the 
 street-car to stop ; and just at the same time a 
 cart was going by, with some long planks on it 
 that waved way out behind. And the lady was 
 looking so hard at the car that she never noticed 
 the planks out behind, and as soon as the cart 
 itself was past her, she rushed for the car, and 
 then she struck the planks just plump, and went 
 right over them, and hung there. Her head 
 and arms were waving on one side just waving 
 and her legs on the other, and she hung over 
 it; and the cart man didn't know it, and just 
 went on serenely. I felt awfully sorry for her, 
 but oh, she looked so funny ! just like a turtle." 
 
 " Didn't she hurt herself dreadfully ? " asked 
 Eunice, with interest. 
 
 " I don't know. Well, the car stopped, and 
 then it went on, for I suppose the conductor 
 saw that the lady couldn't get unhitched from 
 the cart right off, and the cart trundled on, and 
 the other lady ran after it, calling the man to 
 stop, and he thought they were calling to the 
 car all the time, and he waved too, and called 
 out, ' Hi, there ! lady wants yer to stop ! ' and
 
 258 EUNICE AND CRICKET. 
 
 the conductor called back, ' Stop yourself, you 
 old lummux, and let off your passenger,' and 
 all this time the poor lady just sprawled over 
 those planks. I was so sorry for her ! but the 
 sorrier I got, the more I laughed, but I ran 
 after the cart, too, and called it to stop, and 
 some small boys ran after it, and called to the 
 man, too, and the other lady kept calling 
 
 But just here, without a word of warning, 
 Cricket suddenly went down with a thump on 
 her knees, to her intense surprise. It was not 
 icy just there, and there was no apparent reason 
 for Cricket's sudden humility. 
 
 " Upon my word, wasn't that queer ? " she 
 said, getting up slowly, and ruefully rubbing 
 her knees. 
 
 Eunice had gone off into fits of laughter, 
 after a glance behind her. 
 
 " I never saw anything funnier," she gasped. 
 " Talk of your lady ! she isn't a circumstance to 
 you. Oh, dear!" and Eunice fairly doubled up. 
 
 " What could have been the matter ? 1 went 
 down as quick as a wink, and it isn't icy here, 
 either," said bewildered Cricket. " Somehow 
 my knees just went forward. I should think 
 they had hinges on them. I just
 
 A SUDDEN DOWNFALL.
 
 A GOAT EPISODE. 261 
 
 And here she straightway went down on her 
 knees again. Eunice leaned against a lamp- 
 post, breathless with laughing. 
 
 " Oh, oh ! don't you see ? It's only oh, 
 dear! my sides ache so! it's " and Eunice 
 wrnt off again into a peal of laughter. 
 
 Cricket was up by this time, more puzzled 
 than ever. 
 
 " Do you suppose I've got anything the mat- 
 ter with me ? I declare my knees feel cracked. 
 Do you suppose I've got to go all the way to 
 the library bumping along on my knees ? Some- 
 thing seemed to whang into my back knees, and 
 I oh, Johnnie-goat ! was it you ? Eunice, was 
 it Johnnie-goat ? " 
 
 Eunice nodded weakly. She had no breath 
 left for words. Johnnie-goat stood placidly be- 
 hind Cricket, wagging his long beard socially, 
 and making little corner-wise motions of his 
 solemn head, as he always did when he was 
 playfully inclined. 
 
 " He just walked right up and bunted you 
 under the knees, and down you went. I believe 
 he did it for a joke," gasped Eunice. " See ! he 
 doesn't seem angry a bit." 
 
 " He doesn't seem angry ? " asked Cricket,
 
 262 EUNICE AND CRICKET. 
 
 somewhat indignantly. " I should say he'd 
 better not. I don't know what should have 
 spoiled his temper. Pm the one to be angry, I 
 should say. You wretched old Johnnie-goat ! 
 breaking my knee-pans, and making everybody 
 laugh at me, only there isn't anybody around/' 
 
 " Yes, there are three children up in that win- 
 dow, across the street," said Eunice. " They're 
 laughing as if they'd kill themselves." 
 
 " I'm glad there's something to amuse them," 
 said Cricket, cheerfully. "Oh, Eunice! that's 
 the very house my lady came out of yesterday ! 
 Well, I laughed at her, and those children are 
 welcome to laugh at me. "Tell me how he did 
 it." 
 
 " Just as I told you," said Eunice, breaking 
 out into a peal of laughter again, as they walked 
 along. " He simply came up and bunted you 
 under the knees, and the first thing I knew, you 
 were on the ground, and then he did it again." 
 
 " Go home, Johnnie-goat," said Cricket, turn- 
 ing and shaking her finger reproachfully at the 
 goat, who was stalking solemnly on behind, trail- 
 ing his bit of rope, which, as usual, he had eaten 
 through, in order to make his escape. " You've 
 distinguished yourself enough for to-day."
 
 A GOAT EPISODE. 263 
 
 " If we wanted to, I could call a policeman 
 and have you arrested," added Eunice. 
 
 " I'm ashamed of you, Johnnie-goat, when 
 we've always been such friends," went on 
 Cricket, " and I've scratched your head between 
 your horns lots of times, where you can't reach 
 it yourself. Go straight home and think how 
 sorry you are, and maybe I'll forgive you, 
 only you'll have to behave yourself pretty well, 
 else you won't stay forgiven." 
 
 Johnnie-goat stood still and meditated a mo- 
 ment. Then, with the air of one who is some- 
 what bored by circumstances, he turned and 
 wandered slowly back, with a meditative cock to 
 his short tail. 
 
 "He always means mischief when he looks 
 mildly and meekly playful like that," Cricket 
 said, turning to watch him, and to guard against 
 another attack in her rear. 
 
 " Cricket, where is your library book ? " asked 
 Eunice, presently. 
 
 " I don't know," said Cricket, stopping short. 
 " Oh, that Johnnie-goat ! I dropped it when he 
 butted me, I suppose. We'll have to go back. 
 It was just around the corner. I hope nobody 
 has picked it up."
 
 264 EUNICE AND CRICKET. 
 
 The children turned and quickened their steps. 
 As they went around the corner they saw a 
 knot of little gamins collected further down the 
 street, an evidently excited crowd, but the book 
 lay where Cricket had dropped it a few minutes 
 before. 
 
 " What are these boys doing ? " asked Cricket, 
 curiously. " I wonder if anything has happened. 
 Just hear them hoot ! " 
 
 " They're up to some mischief, probably," 
 said Eunice. " Come on, Cricket." 
 
 But Cricket lingered, with her head over her 
 shoulder. 
 
 " They're certainly teasing something, Eunice," 
 she said, in sudden excitement. " Some animal, 
 perhaps it is a cat no, it isn't it's John- 
 nie-goat ! Those horrid wretches!" as an un- 
 mistakable bleat rose long and loud. " Eunice, 
 I must stop them ! " 
 
 Bang went the book on the pavement, and off 
 darted Cricket. 
 
 " Come back, Cricket ! Don't go there," called 
 Eunice, urgently. " They might hurt you. You 
 can't stop them. Cricket ! " 
 
 But she called to deaf ears, for Cricket flew 
 on, and Eunice, with the instinct never to desert
 
 A GOAT EPISODE. 265 
 
 Mr. Micawber, picked up the library book, and 
 followed in much trepidation. 
 
 Cricket dashed into the centre of the group 
 like a small cyclone, and the little gamins fell 
 back, right and left, in sheer amazement. Her 
 scarlet Tarn was on the back of her head, 
 her curls were rampant with the wind, and her 
 eyes were blazing with indignation like two 
 stars. 
 
 Poor Johnnie-goat was indeed in trouble. A 
 tin can dangled from his short tail, and on his 
 horns were two similar ornaments, which bumped 
 and clattered as he made ineffective plunges at 
 his enemies. Besides these, stout strings were 
 tied to each horn, so that his head could be 
 jerked this way and that, as he jumped about, 
 half frantic with rage and terror. One of the 
 boys prodded him with a sharp stick. 
 
 " You shameful wretches ! " rang out Crick- 
 et's clear tones. " I wish some big giant would 
 come and torment you, so ! How dare you ! " 
 she snatched the strings from the boy's hands, 
 and held them firmly in her own strong little 
 fingers. 
 
 " Where is your knife ? " she said, imperiously, 
 to the biggest boy.
 
 266 EUNICE AND CRICKET. 
 
 He took it from his pocket and awkwardly 
 held it out to her. 
 
 " No, open it, and cut those cans off. You, 
 boy, hold his head still. G-ently, mind. Poor 
 Johnnie-goat ! " With one hand she grasped a 
 jerking horn, and with the other she rubbed the 
 sensitive little place on his head. Johnnie-goat 
 almost instantly stood quiet, with drooped head. 
 
 " A fine thing for you great boys to torment 
 a poor, helpless animal," Cricket said, scornfully. 
 She flung the tin cans into the street. 
 
 "Now, be off with you, every one," she 
 ordered. " I'll take Johnnie-goat home. G-o, 
 I say," stamping her foot imperiously, as the 
 boys showed signs of lingering. They had 
 actually said not a single word, so amazed were 
 they all at the valiant onslaught of the little 
 maid. 
 
 Her finger still pointed unwaveringly down a 
 neighbouring alleyway, and slowly the boys, one 
 after another, slouched off. Any sign of inde- 
 cision on the part of Cricket, and they would 
 have refused to go. But, with her shoulders 
 well back, and her head erect, she stood steadily 
 pointing down the alley. She watched them 
 round a corner, and never stirred till the last
 
 A GOAT EPISODE. 267 
 
 one, with many a sheepish glance backward, 
 had disappeared. 
 
 " Got my book, Eunice ? " said Cricket, briskly. 
 " I'm going to take Johnnie-goat home myself, 
 and can't we go to the library round that way ? 
 'Tisn't much further. Gracious ! how hot I 
 am!" and Cricket unbuttoned her long coat 
 and threw it open. " Do you mind carrying 
 my book for me, Eunice ? I'd better hold John- 
 nie-goat with both hands. He seems sort of 
 excited."
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 A SCRAPE. 
 
 ONE Saturday morning towards the end of 
 March, Marjorie and Eunice and Cricket were 
 all in mamma's room. Mrs. Ward had not 
 come home from market yet, and Cricket was 
 watching for her from the window, eager to 
 ask permission for something she wanted to do. 
 
 " There's Donald ! " she suddenly exclaimed. 
 " How funny ! What can he be doing here at 
 this time ? " 
 
 She. ran to the hall, and hung over the ban- 
 ister, calling down a greeting as Donald let 
 himself in. To her surprise, he made her no 
 answer, but with a curt word to Jane to tell 
 his father that he was in the study and wanted 
 to see him as soon as he came in, he bolted into 
 his father's private room behind the office, and 
 shut the door. 
 
 Cricket came back and reported, with much 
 amazement.
 
 A SCRAPE. 269 
 
 " I hope he isn't going to have mumps again,' 1 
 said Eunice, anxiously. " Or, perhaps it's scar- 
 let fever. Did Donald ever have scarlet fever, 
 Marjorie ? " 
 
 " Yes, I think so. Oh, I don't suppose he's 
 going to have any more baby diseases," said 
 Marjorie. " There's papa now ! " 
 
 Doctor Ward entered the house, and the lis- 
 tening girls heard the maid deliver Donald's 
 message. He removed his coat in his leisurely 
 way, whistling softly in a fashion he had, and 
 went into his office for a moment. Then they 
 heard him go into his study. 
 
 The girls waited, breathlessly, but they only 
 heard their father's cheery : 
 
 " Well, my son ? " and then the door 
 closed. 
 
 The room was directly under them, and they 
 could hear the faint, steady murmur of voices, 
 but nothing more. 
 
 Presently Mrs. Ward came home, and the 
 children flew to meet her. 
 
 " Donald here, and talking with his father ? 
 Well, my little maids, what is the mystery in 
 that ? Sick ? Oh, I dare say not. Probably he 
 only wants advice from your father about some-
 
 270 EUNICE AND CRICKET. 
 
 thing. Whatever it is, we'll know presently, if 
 it's any importance." 
 
 A little later, mamma was called into the 
 conference. She did not stay very long, how- 
 ever, and she soon came out, leaving the door 
 open. The girls, who were now down in the 
 back parlour, could hear their father's voice 
 distinctly. 
 
 " There's nothing to do but stand it, my son. 
 I'd rather you'd be suspended for a year than 
 have you clear yourself at others' expense. 
 Loyalty is paramount in this instance, and I'll 
 support you in the stand you've taken." 
 
 " Jove ! father, you're a brick !" said Donald, 
 gratefully. " I was jolly afraid you'd cut up 
 rough, for it's pretty tough on you to have your 
 son rusticated." 
 
 " A trifle tough on you, my lad," returned 
 Doctor Ward. " But there are worse things 
 than rusticating for a time. One is deserving 
 it." 
 
 " The Faculty think I do," answered Donald. 
 
 "Never mind that. Suppose those of you 
 who can, do clear yourselves. That fastens 
 the blame definitely on the few, where now it 
 is distributed among twenty. And the whole
 
 A SCRAPE. 271 
 
 thing is not serious in itself, only the Faculty 
 had promised to suspend the next offenders and 
 to expel the ringleaders, if they could be found." 
 
 " This is the next time, as it happens," said 
 Donald, gloomily. " Worse luck ! " 
 
 " Yes, worse luck for you. But you are 
 entirely right. Don't prove your alibi. Do 
 you all stand by the others ; you fellows can, 
 as you say, stand three months' rusticating 
 better than the half-dozen could stand expul- 
 sion." 
 
 Donald drummed his heels together. He was 
 seated on a corner of the library table, throwing 
 up a paper-weight, and catching it carefully. 
 
 "Oh, we'll stand by the men," he said. 
 " See here, dad, you know I didn't mean to 
 let on all this even to you. I only meant to 
 tell you that your promising son is suspended. 
 But," he added, ruefully, " somehow I forgot you 
 weren't one of the fellows." 
 
 Doctor Ward gave his big son a crack on the 
 shoulder that nearly sent him under the table. 
 
 " I am one of the fellows, old boy. I wasn't 
 a college man for nothing; and though it's 
 twenty-one years since I graduated, I haven't 
 forgotten college-feeling."
 
 272 EUNICE AND CRICKET. 
 
 "And yet, I did hate to have you think 
 I'd disgraced you," said Donald, lifting honest 
 eyes to his father's. " I haven't done wonders, 
 I know, but still I haven't done so very badly. 
 And I suppose this will spoil my chances of 
 getting on the team. Hang it all ! " 
 
 " I'd like to see Professor Croft casually in a 
 day or two, and find out the attitude of the 
 Faculty in the matter. This morning was the 
 sentence read?" And here the door shut 
 again. 
 
 The girls looked at each other in horror. 
 What dreadful thing had happened to this 
 big, handsome Donald of theirs, of whom they 
 were so proud ? They did not understand all 
 that had passed ; and that their father plainly 
 sympathised with Donald did not remove the stub- 
 born fact that he was in some dreadful disgrace. 
 
 Eunice and Cricket looked at each other with 
 bated breath. Marjorie flew to her mother. 
 
 " Did he say he was going to be suspen- 
 ded ? " faltered Eunice. 
 
 " Yes, or rusty-coated," said Cricket, her 
 eyes getting large and dark. " Eunice, do you 
 suppose it hurts ? " 
 
 " I don't know. Oh, Cricket, isn't it too
 
 A SCRAPE. 273 
 
 dreadful ! What can he have done ? But papa 
 doesn't seem to think he's to blame, anyway," 
 added Eunice, hopefully. " He said he'd stand 
 by him." 
 
 " But suspended, Eunice ! " repeated Cricket, 
 with a direful vision of a dangling rope. "It 
 it wouldn't be by the neck, would it ? How 
 long would they keep him there ? Oh, Eunice ! 
 my heart is all jumpy." 
 
 " It couldn't be by the neck," said Eunice, 
 positively. " Because then he'd be regularly 
 hung, and they only hang people for murder 
 and those things. I'm sure of that." 
 
 " But papa said he might be rusty -coated, 
 and he said that wasn't the worst thing that 
 could happen. What is it, Eunice ? " 
 
 " I don't know," answered Eunice, miserably. 
 " Do you suppose it could be like being tarred 
 and feathered like Floyd Ireson?" she added, 
 almost below her breath. 
 
 "Eunice, I won't let them!" cried Cricket, 
 springing up furiously. "Don't let them dare 
 to touch my brother ! I'd scratch them and I'd 
 bite them and oh, Eunice ! papa wouldn't let 
 them, would he ? " 
 
 Perhaps he couldn't help it. If the Presi-
 
 274 EUNICE AND CRICKET. 
 
 dent said he had to be rusty-coated, perhaps it 
 Avould have to be done," said Eunice, wretchedly, 
 for she had an exalted idea of the authority 
 of the powers that be. Eunice was a born 
 Tory. 
 
 "1 don't care if five billion presidents said 
 so," cried Cricket, defiantly. She was a born 
 Radical, though her sweet temper and wise 
 training had saved her from any desire to re- 
 volt. Now all the love and loyalty of her 
 stanch little soul surged up. 
 
 "I'd kick him and I'd bite him," repeated 
 Cricket, " and I'd don't you remember that 
 I made those big boys stop teasing Johnnie- 
 goat?" 
 
 "Yes, I know," returned Eunice, who had 
 been very much impressed by that short scene. 
 
 " What can Don have done ? " queried Cricket, 
 recurring to the starting-point. " Oh, dear ! I 
 wish Faculties would be reasonable ! " With this 
 modest desire, she pounded viciously on the 
 window-sill. 
 
 " I'll be so ashamed to have the girls know," 
 said Eunice. " There's May Chester. Her 
 brother is in the same class." 
 
 " Perhaps he'll be suspended, too," said
 
 A SCRAPE. 275 
 
 Cricket, hopefully. Misery loves company. 
 " But suspended, Eunice," with a fresh wave 
 of dejection. " And I'm so afraid it will hurt." 
 
 Here the luncheon bell rang. Directly after, 
 the study door was thrown open, and Doctor 
 Ward and Donald came out. The father's arm 
 was thrown across his tall son's shoulder, in a 
 boyish fashion that the doctor often used. 
 
 " Don't tell the kids more than you can help," 
 said Donald, hurriedly, as they came out, not 
 aware that the children knew anything. 
 
 " Well, Lady Greasewrister and Madam Van 
 Twister, her -ladyship's sister," he called out, as 
 he entered the dining-room, with the assumption 
 of his usual teasing manner. Doctor Ward had 
 stepped into his office for a moment, and the 
 others had not yet come down. To his immense 
 surprise and embarrassment, Eunice instantly 
 burst out crying. 
 
 "Hallo, Waterworks! what's wrong?" he 
 exclaimed, in dismay. Tears were rare with any 
 of the children. 
 
 "Oh, Donald, I can't stand it! Will it hurt 
 you ? " wailed Eunice, completely overcome by 
 the sight of the big, handsome fellow, and asso- 
 ciating him suddenly with Cricket's image of a
 
 276 EUNICE AND CRICKET. 
 
 dangling rope. " How long will you have to do 
 it?" 
 
 " Do what?" stared Donald. 
 
 "And will you have to be rusty-coated, too?" 
 burst in Cricket, very red as to her cheeks and 
 very shiny as to her eyes. " How do they put 
 it on? Donald, I don't care if the President 
 himself does it, I'll bite him till he's all chewed 
 up!" 
 
 Hal-lo ! " whistled Donald. The others not 
 having arrived yet, the three were still alone. 
 " What have you two kids got in your 
 heads ? " 
 
 " We heard what father said when the door 
 was open," confessed Eunice, honestly. " We 
 couldn't help it. He said you'd have to be 
 suspended 
 
 " Or rusty -coated," put in Cricket. 
 
 " And what is it all about ? and will it hurt ? 
 Oh, Don, tell us ! " and Eunice threw a pair of 
 imploring arms around his neck, while Cricket, 
 with a gush of defensive affection, hugged one 
 of his legs. 
 
 " We'll stand by you, too, Don, whatever it is, 
 and papa will, for he said so. Don, don't go 
 back to that nasty old college, ever. Go to
 
 A SCRAPE. 277 
 
 Princeton. It has such pretty colors. I always 
 loved that black and orange," urged Eunice, 
 tightening her clasp. 
 
 Donald, much touched, swept both his loyal 
 little sisters into his muscular arms, and sat 
 down on the window-seat. 
 
 " See here, you monkeys, I didn't mean to 
 tell you, but I must now. There was a jolly 
 row on Wednesday night, and one of the pro- 
 fessors caught on, and about twenty of us were 
 hauled up. We're suspended for the rest of 
 the year, that is, can't go back till college 
 opens in the fall. We're not going to be hung, 
 as you evidently think, if that's what you're 
 fussing about." 
 
 Oh, is that all ? " 
 
 " But Don, you didn't do anything ? " 
 
 "And if you're rusty-coated, will that hurt 
 you ? " 
 
 " We thought maybe you'd be tarred and 
 feathered." 
 
 " And suspended ! I did think it was some 
 kind of hanging up." 
 
 " Why don't you tell the President you didn't 
 do anything ? " 
 
 Donald put his hands over his ears as the girls
 
 278 EUNICE AND CRICKET. 
 
 poured out their chorus, one on each side. Just 
 then the rest of the family arrived. 
 
 " It's very nice for Donald to have a vacation 
 again," said mamma, patting her big boy's 
 shoulder as she passed him. The younger fry 
 fell on him rapturously. Donald was always 
 popular among them.
 
 CHAPTER XVTIL 
 
 AN EXPEDITION. 
 
 Bur Eunice and Cricket were not altogether 
 satisfied yet. They were very silent during 
 luncheon, which was rather an uncomfortable 
 meal, in spite of the older people's efforts to 
 make it as usual. 
 
 Whatever face he put on it, to be rusticated 
 under any circumstances was a hard thing for 
 a proud fellow like Donald, to say nothing of 
 his athletic aspirations. 
 
 After luncheon, Donald stepped into his 
 father's office for another word or two, while 
 the others went up-stairs. A few minutes after, 
 Mrs. Ward sent Cricket back to the kitchen with 
 a message to the cook. The office door was 
 still open, and Donald's voice was plainly 
 audible. 
 
 " Yes, this is terribly hard on Chester, for he 
 has had the reputation of being a regular dare- 
 devil, and the Faculty immediately put him down
 
 280 EUNICE AND CRICKET. 
 
 for one of the ringleaders, whereas, you see, he 
 wasn't in it at all. A great chum of his was 
 concerned, and the Faculty have pretty well got 
 hold of that, and there's still a chance that 
 three or four of them may be expelled. Of 
 course he won't peach, for the only thing that 
 will save anybody is for us all to hold our 
 tongues." 
 
 " And Chester was with you, you said ? " 
 
 " Yes. We were especially lamb-like that 
 night, calling on Miss Vassar. It was so 
 pleasant that we started to walk home, and met 
 another fellow who rooms in town, and turned 
 in for a smoke. We left him about twelve. 
 We fell in with some others on the way out, 
 who had likewise been in town, and then we 
 suddenly got into the crowd of the others, and 
 were all pounced upon together. Of course, sir, 
 I can't give the names of those who were really 
 guilty." 
 
 " By no means. And old Chester takes it 
 hard, you say?" 
 
 " He will, when he knows of it. I'm sorry 
 for Chester. He's a good fellow, first-rate 
 stuff, but he's chuck-full of mere mischief. 
 You see, after that other row in the winter, his
 
 AN EXPEDITION. 281 
 
 father swore that if he got into any rumpus 
 again, he'd take him out of college, and put him 
 in the office ; and Chester hates that like poison. 
 And old Chester isn't like you, dad. He never 
 was a college man, and he doesn't understand." 
 
 " I suppose not. H'm ! I'm sorry for Ches- 
 ter. I like the lad. It would be rough on him 
 to spoil his career." 
 
 Here Cricket suddenly awoke to the fact that 
 she was hanging on to the banisters, listening 
 with all her might. Much mortified, she flew 
 on to the kitchen and delivered her message, 
 and then darted up-stairs to share her story 
 with Eunice. 
 
 " Eunice, something must be done about it. 
 Sidney Chester is awfully in it, and Don says 
 he didn't do a thing, either. They were both 
 calling on Miss Gwendoline Vassar, the pretty 
 one with red hair, what Donald calls Tissue 
 hair, he's awfully struck on her, you know, 
 and the boys were both there that very night." 
 
 "Then they have only to tell the President 
 so," said Eunice, much relieved. 
 
 " That's just it. They won't say so, and some 
 others who were caught, and didn't really do 
 anything, won't say so either, because then the
 
 282 EUNICE AND CRICKET. 
 
 President would know just who did it, and expel 
 those very ones." 
 
 " It's all dreadfully muddled, seems to me." 
 sighed Eunice. " College things are always so 
 funny." 
 
 "I think they're very unsensible, myself," 
 said Cricket, decidedly. " I think they ought 
 to tell. If the other fellows did it, let them 
 say so, and be expelled. If s like Zaidie, the 
 other day. I was in the nursery, and mamma told 
 her not to run the sewing-machine, and Zaidie 
 did, and mamma tied a handkerchief around her 
 hands. And yesterday, Zaidie got at the ma- 
 chine again, when 'Liza wasn't there, and then 
 she went and twisted a handkerchief around her 
 own hands, and sat down in the corner, and 
 wouldn't play with Helen and Kenneth for a long 
 time. ' I just wanted to run that machine again,' 
 she said, * and now I've got to tie my hands up, 
 'cause I was naughty ; but it was fun, anyway.' " 
 
 " That's the way those boys ought to do," 
 said Eunice. " If they want to go and do bad 
 things, they ought to speak up like a man and 
 say so. Think of Don and Sidney Chester and 
 the others being expelled, and they just calling 
 on Miss Vassar ! "
 
 AN EXPEDITION. 283 
 
 " And Don's just crazy to get in the team ! " 
 added Eunice, almost in tears again. " Oh, 
 Cricket, I wish the President could know about 
 it. I'm sure he'd do something." 
 
 Cricket sprang up with sparkling eyes. 
 
 " Eunice, let's go and tell him ! Come on, 
 straight off, and don't let's tell anybody till we 
 get back, 'cause they wouldn't let us, I suppose. 
 Grown people are so funny. And somebody 
 ought to tell." 
 
 Eunice stared helplessly at Cricket, aghast 
 at this daring proposal. Her younger sister's 
 rapidity of thought and action often took her 
 breath away. 
 
 Go to the President's house ? Oh, Cricket, 
 would you dare ? " 
 
 " Of course I would," answered Cricket, boldly. 
 ' He's only a man. He couldn't eat us, could 
 he? We'll just tell him we're Doctor Ward's 
 daughters, 'cause he knows papa. Don't you 
 remember that papa dined with him last week ? 
 And we'll just tell him that Don and Sidney 
 Chester were calling on Miss Vassar, and that 
 some of the others weren't in it, too, and 
 ask him please to give them all another 
 chance."
 
 284 EUNICE AND CRICKET. 
 
 Cricket was flying out of one dress and into 
 another all the time she talked. Eunice still 
 stared. 
 
 " Would papa like it ? " she hesitated. 
 
 " It won't make any difference after it's done ; 
 and if he doesn't like it, why, I'll never do it 
 again. I'll have the satisfaction of doing it 
 once, though. Come on, you old slowpoke. 
 I'm nearly ready." 
 
 " We don't know where he lives," objected 
 Eunice, feebly, but getting up and going to the 
 closet. 
 
 " I do. Or rather, I know the house when I 
 see it, and anybody will tell us the way. I know 
 what cars to take from here, and the conductors 
 can tell us where to change. We'll be all right," 
 finished Cricket, confidently. " Do hurry, Eu- 
 nice," and Eunice hurried, feeling as if she were 
 pursued by a small cyclone. 
 
 A little later, the two girls went quietly down- 
 stairs, and slipped out of the front door. 
 
 "Will mamma be anxious, do you think?" 
 asked Eunice, suddenly, feeling very guilty, for 
 the girls never thought of going out for a whole 
 afternoon without asking permission. 
 
 " Guess not. She'll think we've gone to
 
 AX EXPEDITION. 285 
 
 Emily Drayton's. She said this morning we 
 might go, you know. There's our car." 
 
 The two girls, with fluttering hearts and ex- 
 cited faces, got on the car, feeling as if they 
 were bound for Japan or the North Pole. 
 Cricket's buoyant, hopeful nature was serenely 
 confident of gaining her end, while Eunice's 
 more apprehensive temperament made her quake 
 at the process. 
 
 " What shall we say, Cricket ? " said Eunice, 
 doubtfully. 
 
 " Just tell the President all about it," an- 
 swered Cricket, easily. " I hope we can get him 
 to let the other boys off, too. Perhaps he could 
 just rusty -coat them for just a week or two. 
 They ought to be willing to stand that; for, after 
 all, what could you expect of Freshmen?" with a 
 tolerant air and accent that amused some ladies 
 sitting by them immensely. 
 
 "We change here. Come on," and Cricket 
 jumped up briskly. Eunice followed more 
 slowly. Generally, she was the leader in their 
 joint doings, even if Cricket was, as usually hap- 
 pened, the originator. To-day both felt that 
 Cricket was in command of the expedition. 
 
 They reached the house at last. Eunice
 
 286 EUNICE AND CRICKET. 
 
 quaked more and more, but Cricket, though in a 
 quiver of excitement, was as bold as a lion. 
 The feeling that she was going to rescue her 
 beloved brother from the clutches of that hawk- 
 like Faculty, who always hovered about, lying 
 in wait to tear unsuspecting Freshmen to bits, 
 gave her unbounded courage. Donald was in 
 difficulty, and some curious code of honour kept 
 him from saving himself. Somebody else must 
 do it, then. That was very simple ; and she 
 was the person to do it. With this small 
 maiden, as we know, to think and to act were 
 always in close connection, so close that often 
 there was some apparent confusion of precedent. 
 But now she was sure she was right, and she 
 valiantly went ahead. 
 
 Eunice was white with excitement. She, 
 forming the rank and file of the attacking 
 army, had less to sustain her courage than 
 General Cricket had. Definite action is always 
 easier than to await an issue. Then, also, 
 Cricket's sublime unconsciousness that any one 
 was particularly interested or concerned in what 
 she did, saved her from the wonder, " What will 
 people think ? " which so often nips one's finest 
 projects in the bud.
 
 AN EXPEDITION. 287 
 
 What shall we do if the President is out?" 
 it suddenly occurred to Eunice to wonder, as 
 they rang the bell. 
 
 " Wait till he comes in," answered Cricket, 
 instantly. Having made her plans, she proposed 
 to fight it out on that line, if it took all summer. 
 
 " Suppose he doesn't get home till evening ? 
 We would be afraid to go home alone then." 
 
 " He could get a carriage, and send us home," 
 said Cricket, magnificently. 
 
 Eunice gasped. The children seemed to have 
 changed places. Eunice was generally the one 
 who had the practical resources. 
 
 The maid opened the door. " Yes, he was in," 
 was the welcome answer to the eager question. 
 " But it's afraid I am that he can't see any one 
 this afternoon. He's particular engaged." 
 
 Dismay filled the children's hearts. So near 
 to their goal and not to be able to reach it ! 
 
 " Oh, please tell him we must see him ! " cried 
 Cricket, imploringly. " It's dreadfully, awfully 
 important, and we've come a long way ; but we'll 
 wait as long as he likes, till he's quite through, 
 but we can't go away without seeing him." 
 
 The maid hesitated. Her orders were strict, 
 but this was plainly something out of the ordi-
 
 288 EUNICE AtfD CRICKET. 
 
 nary course. " 1 don't know if I can tell him," 
 she hesitated. 
 
 " We won't take but just a few minutes. 
 We'll be very quick, and something must be 
 done, and there's nobody else to do it. Please 
 ask him to let us come in, and we'll talk very 
 fast, and tell him all about Donald and the 
 others, and and I can't go away without seeing 
 him ! " 
 
 Cricket's earnest voice grew almost to a wail 
 as she ended, clasping her hands entreatingly. 
 
 A door in the distance opened, and a gentle- 
 man came out. 
 
 " What's the matter, Mary ? " he asked. 
 
 " I want to see the President so much," 
 pleaded Cricket, twisting her fingers in her 
 eagerness. " I know he must be awfully busy, 
 for I suppose presidenting is very hard, and 
 takes lots of time, but won't you tell him we'll 
 be very quick ? And it's terribly important." 
 
 The gentleman looked first amused, then in- 
 terested. 
 
 " Come in, my little friends. I am the Presi- 
 dent, and I will very willingly hear what you 
 have to say, and help you if I can." 
 
 At this announcement, Cricket, finding that
 
 AN EXPEDITION. 289 
 
 she was really in the much desired presence, 
 drew a quick breath, feeling, for the first time, 
 the importance of what she was doing. The two 
 girls, holding each other's hands tightly, followed 
 their kindly guide to the pleasant library. 
 
 " My legs wobble so, I can hardly walk," 
 whispered Cricket to Eunice, "and there's such 
 a hole in my stomach ! It feels all gone." 
 
 The gentleman placed chairs for his little 
 guests, with the utmost courtesy of manner, and 
 then seated himself. 
 
 " Now, what can' I do for you ? " he asked, 
 pleasantly. 
 
 Cricket gripped her fast-retreating courage 
 with both hands, drew a long breath and plunged 
 head foremost in her subject, as one might jump 
 from a burning steamer into the ice-cold ocean. 
 
 " It's about Donald, and he can't tell, because 
 it wouldn't be quite honourable to the others, and 
 1 found it out accidentally, and papa says he'll 
 stand by him, though really Donald wasn't in it 
 at all, for he and Sidney Chester were calling on 
 Miss Gwendoline Vassar, that very night, that 
 pretty Miss Vassar that all the boys are so stuck 
 on, you know, and they stopped and smoked 
 with another man coming home, and then they
 
 290 EUNICE AND CRICKET. 
 
 met some other men, who hadn't being doing 
 anything either, and then they all got mixed up 
 with the ones who did do something, but I don't 
 know what, and they were all caught together, 
 and none of them would say a word, 'cause per- 
 haps the right ones would be expelled if they 
 were known, and so they're all going to be rusty- 
 coated, or suspended, or something, and that's 
 dreadful; and poor Sidney Chester, who didn't 
 really do a thing this time, may have to leave 
 college entirely and go into his father's office, 
 and he hates it so, and he really isn't bad, only 
 full of fun, and papa understands things better 
 than old Mr. Chester does, because he was at 
 college himself, you know, and he says he'll stand 
 by Don, for he must be loyal to the others, only 
 now perhaps Don can't get on the team, and he 
 hasn't done wonders, but he hasn't done so badly 
 in his work, and he's such a dear fellow." 
 
 Cricket drew a long breath here, and dashed 
 on. 
 
 "And you see he didn't really do anything 
 himself, and nobody knows we've come to you, 
 and I guess papa would take my head off if 
 he knew it, but I knew somebody ought to do 
 something, and you'd feel so badly to punish
 
 AN EXPEDITION. 291 
 
 somebody who didn't do anything, and Donald 
 didn't even mean to tell papa about it, but papa 
 always understands, and, oh, dear, if he's 
 rusty-coated I can't bear it ! " 
 
 And here Cricket, perfectly unstrung by the 
 nervous tension and the long strain, suddenly 
 surprised herself, and paralysed Eunice, by burst- 
 ing into convulsive sobs. 
 
 In a moment she was on the presidential 
 knees, and her head was on the august shoulder, 
 where she wept a perfect flood of tears into a big 
 collegiate handkerchief which speedily replaced 
 her small, drenched one. Eunice was so over- 
 come by the astonishing spectacle of Cricket in 
 tears that she sat wide-eyed with amazement, 
 staring at her with bated breath.
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 THE RESULT. 
 
 Bur so far as any surprise or discomfiture 
 showed itself on his face, the President seemed 
 to be perfectly accustomed to having strange 
 little girls invade his sanctum, break in on his 
 sacred quiet, pour forth an incoherent tale, and 
 end up by bursting into a flood of tears, and 
 submitting to be taken into his arms to be 
 comforted. He mopped away Cricket's tears 
 most scientifically, and presently pulled still 
 another handkerchief from some other pocket. 
 
 Soon the storm passed, and Cricket, spent 
 with fatigue, found her curly head nestled as 
 confidingly against the President's shoulder as 
 if it had been her father's, with only a long- 
 drawn, sobbing breath now and then. 
 
 "Now, my little girl, I want to know more 
 about all this," said the kindly voice, when she 
 was quite calm and quiet again. " You see, I 
 don't know who my little friend is, yet, either,"
 
 THE RESULT. 293 
 
 he added, smiling down into the gray eyes, in 
 which all the usual mischief and light were 
 nearly drowned out. 
 
 " Oh, I quite forgot," exclaimed Cricket, apol- 
 ogetically, instantly sitting up. "I beg your 
 pardon, if you please. I meant to tell you the 
 very first thing that we are Doctor Ward's 
 daughters, and then I went and cried, and I'm 
 so ashamed, for, indeed, I'm not a cry-baby, truly 
 I'm not, and I don't see what made me cry." 
 
 The earnest little voice and wistful eyes em- 
 phasised the words. 
 
 The President hid a smile. 
 
 " I'm sure you're not, my little friend. So 
 you are Doctor Ward's little daughters." He 
 held out his hand to Eunice, also, who imme- 
 diately found herself within the kind shelter of 
 his encircling arm. 
 
 " Doctor Ward of Street ? Then I know 
 
 your father very well indeed, and am very glad 
 to know the children of a friend I value so 
 much ; but I wish it had been in some way 
 pleasanter to them. But now let's talk busi- 
 ness first," with a smile. " Suppose I ask you 
 some questions and you answer them. That 
 will be best."
 
 294 EUNICE AND CRICKET. 
 
 Every qualm gone now, and sure that they 
 were in the presence of a kindly judge, Cricket, 
 who was still spokesman, answered the few 
 clear, direct questions that the President put. 
 He was soon convinced of the fact that the 
 children's own impulse was at the bottom of 
 the expedition, that no older person had 
 any knowledge of it, and that the loving, 
 loyal little hearts had carried out their 
 undertaking, instinctively feeling that here 
 was a case where weakness was stronger than 
 strength. 
 
 Then came a few minutes of silence, during 
 which the President meditated, knitting his 
 brow, and Eunice and Cricket gazed breath- 
 lessly at him. What would he say ? Donald's 
 fate seemed hanging in the balance. 
 
 At last the President opened his lips : 
 
 " Won't you have a cup of tea with me ? I 
 usually take one about this time, if I am at 
 home." 
 
 That was all. The girls exchanged startled 
 glances. 
 
 The President intercepted them, and smiled 
 down at the eager little faces so tender and 
 reassuring a smile that they felt the load roll
 
 THE RESULT. 295 
 
 off their hearts. It was all right, somehow, 
 they instantly felt. 
 
 Cricket smiled back with such glad confidence 
 and good comradeship that the President sud- 
 denly stooped and kissed the sweet, upturned 
 little face. 
 
 " Yes, we'll make it all right somehow," he 
 said, answering her unspoken thought ; and then, 
 gently putting her down, he went across the 
 room and rang a bell. The trim maid pres- 
 ently responded to the order given, with a tray 
 containing tea and fancy cakes. 
 
 The President put his little guests in low 
 chairs, and served them himself, talking all 
 the time as if he were one of their intimate 
 friends. They soon chattered away fearlessly 
 in response, telling him about their school life 
 and the theatricals, and their mother and brother 
 and sisters, and repeating some of the twin's 
 funny sayings and doings, as if he had no other 
 interests than theirs. 
 
 " Zaidie is the funniest child," said Cricket, 
 confidentially. " She has the queerest ideas. 
 The other day, 'Liza said to her, * Don't wiggle 
 so when Pm dressing you, because I can't get 
 on your dress.' And Zaidie said, 'If you're
 
 296 EUNICE AND CRICKET. 
 
 dressing me when you put on my dress, when 
 God puts skin on people, is that called skinning 
 them?'" 
 
 " She is young to be interested in etymology," 
 said the President, laughing ; " but that is cer- 
 tainly logical." 
 
 "And the other day," chimed in Eunice, 
 " mamma had been reading the first chapter 
 of Genesis to the twins, and she asked Zaidie 
 what God made the world out of, and Zaidie 
 said, ' Out of words] and mamma asked her 
 what she meant, and Zaidie said, ' He made it 
 out of words , because He said, " Let there be 
 light and there was light," and everything else 
 like that, so He must have made it out of the 
 words, 'cause there wasn't anything else to make 
 it out of.' " 
 
 " I want to make Zaidie's acquaintance," said 
 the President " She should have a chair in a 
 theological seminary one of these days. Now, 
 my little friends, it's nearly five o'clock, entirely 
 too late for you to go home alone. I'll send 
 somebody with you or stay I'll go myself. 
 Could I see your father a few minutes, do you 
 think?" 
 
 " Couldn't you come home to dinner ? " said
 
 THE RESULT. 297 
 
 Cricket, eagerly. " You could see papa, any- 
 way, for he's always home at half-past five. 
 He doesn't see any office people then, either." 
 
 " Some other day I shall hope to have the 
 pleasure of dining with you, and making ac- 
 quaintance with those interesting brothers and 
 sisters of yours," said the President, smiling his 
 delightful smile, as he rose. "To-night, how- 
 ever, I'll just see your father for five minutes, 
 as I have an engagement, later." 
 
 So, escorted by the President of the great 
 university, homeward went two ecstatic little 
 maids, in a perfect tumult of triumph and hap- 
 piness. Cricket could hardly keep her elastic 
 feet on the pavement. 
 
 "The hole in my stomach is all gone," she 
 confided to Eunice's ear, " and I'm so happy 
 that I could walk straight up the side of that 
 house." 
 
 Mrs. Ward, who was watching from the par- 
 lour window for their arrival, not anxiously, 
 however, as she supposed they were safe with 
 Emily Dray ton, was filled with amazement 
 at the sight of their escort. 
 
 " Your little daughters have given me the 
 great pleasure of a call," he said, courteously.
 
 298 EUNICE AND CRICKET. 
 
 " They will perhaps explain better than I can, 
 but I cordially hope it was a pleasure that may 
 be soon repeated. And now, may I see your 
 husband for five minutes or so ? " 
 
 And then, when the President was safely in 
 papa's study, the eager children poured out the 
 story of the afternoon to mamma's astonished 
 ears.
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 OLD MR. CHESTER. 
 
 WITH the clue that the children had given 
 the President, the affair was more closely in- 
 vestigated. Donald was furiously angry at the 
 children's exploit at first, as it certainly com- 
 promised him, but, with a little management, 
 the source of information was kept entirely a 
 private matter between the President, one or 
 two of the Faculty, Doctor Ward, Donald, and 
 Sidney Chester. Donald and some of the others 
 whom Cricket had named were called up at a 
 special meeting of the Faculty, but they still 
 steadily refused to say a word at the expense of 
 their classmates. At last, by much quiet man- 
 agement, the whole sentence was conditionally 
 repealed, and private interviews were held with 
 those now pretty well known to be the ring- 
 leaders. They knew that they owed their es- 
 cape to some private influence, and were well
 
 300 EUNICE AND CRICKET. 
 
 warned that the next offence would give them 
 the weight of this one also. 
 
 A few days later, old Mr. Chester came over 
 to see Doctor Ward. He was a stern old man, 
 who had made his own way in the world, and 
 he wanted his son to have the education he had 
 so sorely longed for and never had. 
 
 He had been puzzled and distressed that 
 Sidney did not regard his college course as a 
 sacred privilege, and had been cut to the heart 
 by some of the lad's previous escapades. He 
 could not comprehend that the boy was really 
 doing good work, and was only working off his 
 animal spirits by all sorts of what his father 
 called "Tom-fool tricks." He scowled upon 
 athletics, which to his mind involved only an 
 infinite waste of time and money. That class- 
 room lore is but half the value of college life 
 he could not in the least comprehend. At the 
 last of Sidney's escapades, Mr. Chester had 
 raged furiously, and vowed that the next time 
 the boy was caught in anything of the sort, 
 it should end his college career, and land him 
 in the hated office. 
 
 When the old gentleman learned of the little 
 girls' part in the affair, he came to Doctor
 
 OLD MR. CHESTER. 301 
 
 Ward to express his gratitude that they had 
 saved his lad, as he put it. 
 
 " The obstinate young donkey would tell me 
 nothing about the matter," he growled. "He 
 would actually have let me take him out and 
 put him to work, without saying a word." 
 
 But for all his scolding, the old man secretly 
 felt a thrill of pride at the loyalty whether 
 mistaken or not, it is not the place here to dis- 
 cuss which made this possible. 
 
 " Now, as for your little girls," Mr. Chester 
 said to Doctor Ward, " 1 would like to do some- 
 thing for them something they will remem- 
 ber this by. I thought this might do, if you 
 have no objections." 
 
 u This " was a small morocco case which he 
 slowly drew from a side pocket. Then he 
 produced a similar one from the other pocket, 
 and laid them both on the desk in front of 
 Doctor Ward. Then he touched the springs, 
 in his deliberate way, first of one case and then 
 of the other. The covers flew back, and on the 
 satin linings there lay two exquisite little 
 watches. Two little hunting-cases they were, 
 with graceful monograms on the respective 
 covers.
 
 302 EUNICE AND CRICKET. 
 
 "For my little piccaninnies?" exclaimed Doc- 
 tor Ward, in astonishment. "Indeed, Chester, 
 that's too munificent altogether. Why, I 
 haven't quite settled in my own mind yet 
 but that *he little witches ought to be sent 
 supperless to bed for such a daring perform- 
 ance, without consulting anybody. The acci- 
 dent of its having turned out well does not 
 by any means make up for their having taken 
 matters into their own hands. Under some 
 circumstances, they might have done unbounded 
 mischief. It's too serious a matter for such 
 small hands to meddle with the affairs of state, 
 so to speak." 
 
 The doctor laughed as he spoke, but he had 
 been seriously in doubt, as he said, whether to 
 reprove or commend. He had finally compro- 
 mised by a long, serious talk with his little 
 daughters, and they had promised that, after 
 this, they would duly consult the powers that 
 be. 
 
 " All that is your affair," answered Mr. 
 Chester, grimly smiling. "I can't undertake 
 to say what discipline other people's children 
 should have. But on my own account, and 
 because I like pluck wherever I see it, I would
 
 OLD MR. CHESTER. 303 
 
 like the children to have these watches. It was 
 a plucky performance, doctor, you must admit 
 that." 
 
 " They certainly bearded the lion in his den," 
 answered Doctor Ward, smiling also. " Yes, I 
 think they are plucky little women. But, my 
 dear Chester, some very much more trifling 
 things will show your appreciation just as well, 
 and make me more comfortable." 
 
 " Tut ! tut ! This is all in the trade, you 
 know. I know my May was crazy for a watch 
 like these, so I thought they would suit your 
 girls also. And you must remember that, 
 since I deal in these things, they are no more 
 to me than a bottle of physic would be to 
 you." 
 
 Doctor Ward admitted the truth of this 
 argument, as Mr. Chester was at the head 
 of one of the largest jeweller's stores in town, 
 and he finally agreed to accept the watches 
 for the children, subject to his wife's ap- 
 proval. 
 
 Everything being satisfactorily settled, and 
 Mr. Chester utterly refusing to deliver the 
 watches himself, the next morning, when Eu- 
 nice and Cricket came down to the breakfast-
 
 304 EUNICE AND CRICKET. 
 
 table, each viewed with astonishment the little 
 morocco case at her plate. 
 
 " Why, it isn't our birthdays or anything," said 
 Cricket, wonderingly. " Has anybody else any- 
 thing?" 
 
 " This is your special celebration," said mam- 
 ma, gaily. " Open and see." 
 
 The speechless children stared at what the 
 little morocco cases held. 
 
 " What where why " stammered Eu- 
 nice at last, and their mother explained, while 
 the rest of the family looked on beamingly. 
 
 " A momentum ! " shrieked Cricket, snatching 
 up the golden, gleaming thing from its pink 
 satin pillow, and dancing around the room with 
 a perfect whoop of delight. " Mine ? ours ? that 
 dear old duck! Eunice, let's go and thank 
 him straight off. I want to hug him and kiss 
 him, and I always used to be so scared of 
 him." 
 
 She was bolting for the door, but her father 
 called her back. 
 
 " He'd be ' scared ' of you if you did. Write 
 him a nice little note after breakfast. He would 
 much prefer that." 
 
 Aren't they too deliciously sweet for
 
 OLD MR. CHESTER. 305 
 
 words?" murmured Eunice, hugging her trea- 
 sure to her heart. 
 
 " See those dear little curly letters on the 
 cover," said Cricket, rapturously examining 
 them. J. M. W., Jean Maxwell Ward. 
 And inside, oh, Eunice ! do you see ? Here's 
 a date! It's the day we went to the Presi- 
 dent ! Isn't this the very loveliest momentum 
 he could have given us?" 
 
 " Memento, dear," suggested mamma. 
 
 Yes, memento. What did I say ? " 
 
 " And Donald wants to give you the gold pins 
 to wear them with. He is going to take you 
 down-town to-morrow afternoon, to choose 
 them yourselves, if you have no previous 
 engagements." Doctor Ward's eyes twinkled. 
 
 " Don't tease, papa ! Isn't that lovely of Don. 
 What fun to choose our own pins, Eunice ! And 
 I love to go down -town with Don, anyway. 
 He's such a treaty fellow. He always gives us 
 ice-cream and candy." 
 
 The pins were duly selected, after much com- 
 paring, choosing, and rejecting. Donald quietly 
 slipped a card into Cricket's case, and when she 
 reached home and displayed their final choice, 
 she found Donald's inscription with it.
 
 306 EUNICE AND CRICKET. 
 
 To 
 Lady Greasewrister 
 
 and 
 Madame Van Twister 
 
 Her 
 
 Ladyship's Sister. 
 This little " momentum " 
 For thanks have I sent 'em, 
 In closest resemblance to 
 Bright glaring brass; 
 For Brass it was took 'em 
 (Nor ever forsook 'em) 
 To give to the President 
 their " sass."
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 BREAKING UP. 
 
 THE June days had come again, and the 
 children were beginning to look forward to the 
 summer exodus to Kayuna. Their school closed 
 the second week in June, and the flitting was to 
 take place on the llth. Eunice and Cricket 
 were to go to Marbury in July for a two weeks' 
 visit to their grandmother. The Somers family 
 were to be there, as usual, and Edna had writ- 
 ten imploring letters that the girls might be 
 with her there for a little while. Then Edna 
 was to be with thpm in Kayuna the entire 
 month of August. 
 
 " Doesn't it seem six year 5 ** since last June, 
 when we were all flying around, and mamma 
 was getting ready to go to Europe ? " said 
 Cricket on the last night at the house in town. 
 " Seems to me I was such a little girl then." 
 
 Indeed, Cricket, as well as Eunice, had grown 
 much older in the last year, and was more
 
 308 EUNICE AND CRICKET. 
 
 responsible and self-reliant in every way. Both 
 girls had grown tall, Cricket especially, for she 
 had shot up within half an inch of Eunice this 
 winter. 
 
 Cricket was very proud of this, and was 
 hugely delighted when people took her to be 
 Eunice's twin, as they quite often had of late. 
 But her curly hair was getting to be a great 
 grievance, as it still tumbled about her shoul- 
 ders, and wouldn't grow long. 
 
 " Do you suppose my hair will always stay 
 short and curly?" she asked, anxiously. She 
 was sitting perched on her father's knee. The 
 younger children were in bed, and the others 
 were all in the back parlour. The furniture 
 was in its summer dress of brown holland, the 
 pictures had retired behind mosquito nets, and 
 everything wore a shut-up-for-the-summer ex- 
 pression, except the family. 
 
 " Just think how I'll look when I'm eighty," 
 went on Cricket, in an aggrieved tone, " going 
 about with little flippy-floppy curls all over my 
 head, like old Mrs. Crazy-Beecher, round on 
 Jones Street. Don't you know how her curls 
 always jiggle up and down, because she nods all 
 the time like a Chinese mandolin ? "
 
 BREAKING UP. 309 
 
 " Mandarin, dear. Yes. You might wear a 
 wig then," suggested mamma. 
 
 " Ugh ! I'd hate to wear store hair." 
 
 " Did you hear Kenneth's latest ? He watched 
 Eliza this morning putting on that funny jute 
 braid she wears, and it seemed to strike him 
 for the first time, so he said, ' 'Liza, what makes 
 you wear cloth hair ? Mamma doesn't.' " 
 
 " I don't want cloth hair, either," said Cricket, 
 decidedly. "Papa, can't anything be done to 
 straighten my curls out? Couldn't you give 
 me some medicine for it? I'd like to put it 
 up in plaster of Paris. Wouldn't that do it ? 
 It straightened out the little Smith boy's leg." 
 
 " We might put your mind up in plaster of 
 Paris, to take some of the kinks out of that" 
 observed Donald. 
 
 " My mind's the best I've got, and you'll 
 please be respectful to it," said Cricket, with 
 dignity. " You're a model of sarcasticity, I 
 suppose you think. Anyway, I do wish I had 
 ' plain hair,' as Zaidie says. Eunice just gives 
 hers a good brushing in the morning, and braids 
 it up all smooth and nice, and there it stays. 
 While mine ! " a gesture of despair finished the 
 sentence.
 
 310 EUNICE AND CRICKET. 
 
 " I don't know what I can do for you, little 
 Gloriana McQuirk," said her father, tumbling the 
 obnoxious curls affectionately over her face. 
 
 " There ! " exclaimed Cricket. " Nobody would 
 ever think of throwing Eunice's braid over her 
 face, and it wouldn't disturb it a bit if they did, 
 and nobody minds tossing mine every which 
 way, as if I hadn't a feeling to my name." 
 
 " Cricket's trials with her hair are like Amy 
 March's with her nose," said Marjorie. 
 
 " Good idea," said Donald. " Braid your hair 
 into pigtails, and put a patent clothes-pin at the 
 end of each one, Miss Scricket," and only the 
 fact that none were to be found in the kitchen 
 regions, whither Cricket instantly repaired, pre- 
 vented the suggestion from being carried out. 
 
 " How different things will be when we come 
 back next fall," Mrs. Ward said, presently, when 
 Cricket had resumed her place on her father's 
 knee. " It will seem strange to have Marjorie 
 gone, and the little ones in school." 
 
 For the next year was to see several changes. 
 For one thing, Marjorie was to go to boarding- 
 school for a year. She would soon be seventeen, 
 and her father and mother wished her to have 
 the training in self-reliance and independence
 
 BREAKING UP. 311 
 
 that a year away would give her. Marjorie did 
 not aspire to college life, but was eager to culti- 
 vate her musical talent especially. Later, she 
 was to have a year in Germany for that purpose. 
 
 Eunice and Cricket were to be collegians, 
 however, and were already planning with regard 
 to Wellesley days. 
 
 Next year, also, the twins were to be launched 
 on their school career. They had never been 
 even to a kindergarten, for Helen had been too 
 delicate, and Mrs. Ward did not wish to sep- 
 arate the children. Now Helen seemed to be 
 growing stronger all the time, and Doctor Ward 
 thought that school would be quite feasible the 
 next fall. Even Kenneth was to begin at the 
 kindergarten, and it was no wonder that Mrs. 
 Ward, as she said, began to feel that she really 
 had a grown-up family. 
 
 The girls would miss Marjorie immensely 
 next year, but, by way of compensation, Eunice 
 thought she would enjoy the dignity of being 
 the eldest daughter at home. 
 
 " And I think people really ought to begin to 
 call me Miss Ward," she said, meditatively. 
 
 THE END.
 
 "Queen Hildegarde" Series. 
 
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