r children were directed to the library, where they were
captured by the larger girls, decorated with tissue-paper favors and
set loose; "like a flock of birds and butterflies," as Hermione said,
or "a plague of hungry locusts," to quote Ivy, who stood on the porch
at the front door watching their flight.

"I don't want this old red cap," declared Claude.

"And I want a yellow one like Lawa's weaf," wailed Lois, while Nettie,
for once figuring as amiability, with a blue top-knot on her golden
tresses, only lingered with the others to give them countenance, as it
were.

"Shoo, shoo!" cried the unfeeling Ivy, waving them away with her
skirts. "Who are those boys who went past just now, looking so much
amused, Laura? The short one stared at you as if he knew you."

"I didn't notice," returned Laura, glancing after the lads.

"It's that boy you made buy the white pitcher," said Alene.

"The other looks like one of Mark Griffin's soldiers of misfortune.
Hoy, Mat!" Ivy hailed the latter in passing. "Who are those boys?"

"Bud Waters and Artie Orr; they came with Mark Griffin and Jack
Lever,--there's Jack now."

"That thin boy leaning on the cane? I wondered who he was!"

"Yes, he's been laid up with a broken leg; is just able to hobble
round; that's the reason we haven't seen him and Mark together for so
long. They are hobnobbing with the Stony Road gang to-day."

"The gang? Why, are they all here?"

"Five or six, I should say. Mr. Dawson seemed to know them and sent
Jed to show them round."

"That explains where Uncle Fred's invitations went."

"I shouldn't wonder if he knows all about the Torchlights, too!"

"Neither should I, Laura."

"The Torchlights?" cried Vera; "Who are they?"

"'A sort of club,'" said Laura, shutting her lips together in an
imitation of Mark.

CHAPTER XXV

IVY'S FRIEND

In the middle of the afternoon as Ivy sat alone on a bench beneath a
tree, listening to the band and watching the children circling merrily
round a number of maypoles, she heard a voice at her side:

"Excuse me, but may I have part of your seat?"

"Why, certainly!" she said, making room for the speaker, a middle-aged
man with genial blue eyes and a blonde beard, who was dressed in an
easy-fitting, light suit, and carried a large book which he placed with
his hat on the grass at his feet.

"I guess he's a friend of the housekeeper's; I noticed him speaking
with her to-day," thought Ivy, her gaze