"Mrs. Eland's name is Marion," said Tess, confidently. "She signed it to
a note to us. Didn't she, Dot?"

"In the apple," replied Dot, promptly.

"What does the child mean--'in the apple'?" queried the laughing Mrs.
Buckham.

"That's how she sent us our invitation to her party," said Dot.

"Only to an afternoon tea, child!" exclaimed Tess, quickly. "That isn't
a party." Then she explained to Mrs. Buckham about the apples and the
one that came back with the note inside. Meanwhile the farmer was very
quiet and thoughtful.

"So," finished Tess, breathlessly, "we're going to stop at the hospital
on our way home from school next Monday afternoon. Aren't we, Dot?"

"Ye-es," said the smaller girl, this time doubtfully. "If Mrs. MacCall
finishes my Alice-doll's new cloak. Otherwise she can't go, and of
course I can't go without her. She hasn't a thing fit to wear, now it's
come fall."

"You ask Mrs. Eland," broke in Mr. Buckham, "if she happens to be any
relation to Lemuel Aden."

"Now, Bob!" said his wife in an admonitory undertone, "never mind raking
up dead and gone happenings."

"But I'm just curious--just curious," said the farmer. "Nothing to be
done now about it----"

"Bob!"

"Well," subsided the farmer, "a man can't help thinkin' about money that
he's lost. And that five hundred dollars was stole from us as sure as
you're alive to-day, Marm."

"Never mind," his wife said lightly. "You've earned several five
hundreds since that happened--you know you have, Bob Buckham. What's the
good of worrying?"

"Ain't worrying," denied the farmer, quickly. "But I do despise a thief.
I was brought up on the motter:

"''Tis a sin
To steal a pin;
'Tis a greater
To steal a' 'tater!'

Ain't that so, children?" he concluded, chuckling.

Now, Ruth and Agnes were being ushered into the room by the broadly
smiling Posy just as Mr. Buckham recited this old jingle. Agnes flushed
to the roots of her hair, and then paled with alarm. She expected, then
and there, to be accused with the heinous offence of having picked
strawberries without permission in Mr. Bob Buckham's field!

"Oh! what a pretty girl!" cried the invalid. "Come here, my dear, and
let me pinch those cheeks. You need not blush so; I'm sure you've been
told you were pretty before--and I hope it hasn't spoiled you," and Mrs.
Buckham laughed heartily.

"I should know you were little Theresa's sister," continued the lady, as
Agnes tremb