aren't they?" and Henry nodded in the direction
of the veranda.

"Sh-h!" reproved Laura. "They're our guests."

"Guests is just it. Yes, they're _guests_, all right."

"Mother says they don't know how to work," Priscilla observed.

"That's another true word, too."

Mother turned gaily in the road ahead. "Who is talking about me?" she
called.

Priscilla frisked on to join her, and Henry fell back to a confidential
exchange with Laura. "Beau wouldn't be so bad if he could forget for a
minute that he owned the earth and had a mortgage on the solar system.
But when he tries to snub Bruce--gee, that gets me!"

"Aren't you twanging the G string rather often lately, Hal?--Stannard
can't snub Bruce. Bruce isn't the kind of fellow to be snubbed."

"Just the same, it makes me sick to think anybody's a cousin to me
that would try it."

Laura switched back to the main subject. "We didn't ask them up here
as extra farm hands, you know."

"Bull's-eye," said Henry, and grinned.

What she did not know failed to trouble Elliott. She read on in lonely
peace through the afternoon. At a most exciting point the telephone
rang. Four, that was the Cameron call. Elliott went into the house and
took down the receiver.

"Mr. Robert Cameron's," she said pleasantly.

"S-say!" stuttered a high, sharp voice, "my little b-b-boys have let
your c-c-cows out o' the p-p-pasture. I'll g-give 'em a t-t-trouncin',
but 't won't git your c-c-cows back. They let 'em out the G-G-Garrett
Road, and your medder gate's open. Jim B-B-Blake saw it this mornin'!
Why the man didn't shut it, I d-d-dunno. You'll have to hurry to save
your medder."

"But," gasped Elliott, "I don't understand! You say the cows--"

"Are comin' down G-Garrett Road," snapped the stuttering voice, "the
whole kit an' b-b-bilin' of 'em. They'll be inter your upper m-medder
in five m-m-minutes."

Over the wire came the click of a receiver snapping back on its hook.
Elliott hung up and started toward the door. The cows had been let
out. Just why this incident was so disastrous she did not quite
comprehend, but she must go and tell her uncle. Before her feet
touched the veranda, however, she stopped. Five minutes? Why, there
wouldn't be time to go to the lower meadow, to say nothing of any
one's doing anything about the situation.

And then, with breath-taking suddenness, the thing burst on her. She
was alone in the house; even Aunt Jessica and Priscilla had gone to
the hay-f