d
Europena made mud-pies. Peace and harmony reigned in this shabby
Garden of Eden until temptation entered, and the weakest fell.

"'T ain't no fun jes' keepin' on makin' mud-pies," announced
Australia, after enough pastry had been manufactured to start a
miniature bakery.

"Wish we could make some white cakes, like they have at Mr.
Bagby's," said Europena.

"Could if we had some whitewash. I'll tell you what's let do! Let
's take some of Asia's paint she's goin' to paint the fence with,
an' make 'em green on top."

"Ma wouldn't like it," protested Europena; "besides, I don't want
my little pies green."

"I'm goin' to," said Australia, beginning her search for the
paint-can. "It won't take but a little teeny bit; they'll never
miss it."

After some time the desired object was discovered on a shelf in the
shed. Its high position enhanced its value, giving it the cruel
fascination of the unattainable.

"Could you stand up on my soldiers, like the man at the show?"
demanded Australia.

"I'd fall off," said Europena.

"'Fraid-cat!" taunted her sister, in disgust. "Do you reckon you
could hol' the chair while I climbed up on the back?"

"It ain't got no bottom."

"Well, it don't need to have no bottom if I'm goin' to stand on its
back," said Australia, sharply. Leaders of great enterprises must of
necessity turn deaf ears to words of discouragement.

"You might git killed," persisted Europena.

"'T wouldn't matter," said Australia, loftily; "'t wouldn't be but
the seventh time. I got three more times to die. 'Fore you was
borned I was drowned out in the country, that was one time; then I
fell in the ash-bar'l and was dead, that's two times; an'--an'
then I et the stove-polish, that's four times; an' I can't 'member,
but the nex' time will be seven. I don't keer how much I git killed,
till it's eight times, then I'm goin' to be good all the time,
'cause when you are dead nine times they put you in a hole an' throw
dirt on you!"

Australia had become so absorbed in her theory of reincarnation that
she had forgotten the paint, but the bottomless chair recalled it.

"Now, you lay 'crost the chair, Europena, an' I'll climb up," she
commanded.

Europena, though violently opposed to the undertaking, would not
forsake her leader at a critical moment. She had uttered her
protest, had tried in vain to stem the current of events; nothing
was left her now but to do or die. She valiantly braced her small
body acr