t Maida recognized the tone that he always employed
when he was joking her. Beside, his eyes were all "skrinkled up."
She did not quite understand what the joke was, but she smiled back
at him.

"Now can we look at the things downstairs?" she pleaded.

"Yes," Billy assented. "To-day is a very important day. Behind
locked doors and sealed windows, we're going to take account of
stock."

Granny Flynn remained in the bedrooms to make all kinds of
mysterious measurements, to open and shut doors, to examine closets,
to try window-sashes, even to poke her head up the chimney.

Downstairs, Billy and Maida opened boxes and boxes and boxes and
drawers and drawers and drawers. Every one of these had been
carefully gone over by the conscientious Mrs. Murdock. Two boxes
bulged with toys, too broken or soiled to be of any use. These they
threw into the ash-barrel at once. What was left they dumped on the
floor. Maida and Billy sat down beside the heap and examined the
things, one by one. Maida had never seen such toys in her life--so
cheap and yet so amusing.

It was hard work to keep to business with such enchanting temptation
to play all about them. Billy insisted on spinning every top--he got
five going at once--on blowing every balloon--he produced such
dreadful wails of agony that Granny came running downstairs in great
alarm--on jumping with every jump-rope--the short ones tripped him up
and once he sprawled headlong--on playing jackstones--Maida beat him
easily at this--on playing marbles--with a piece of crayon he drew a
ring on the floor--on looking through all the books--he declared that
he was going to buy some little penny-pamphlet fairy-tales as soon
as he could save the money. But in spite of all this fooling, they
really accomplished a great deal.

They found very few eatables--candy, fruit, or the like. Mrs. Murdock
had wisely sold out this perishable stock. One glass jar, however,
was crammed full of what Billy recognized to be "bulls-eyes"--round
lumps of candy as big as plums and as hard as stones. Billy said
that he loved bulls-eyes better than terrapin or broiled live
lobster, that he had not tasted one since he was "half-past ten."
For the rest of the day, one of his cheeks stuck out as if he had
the toothache.

They came across all kinds of odds and ends--lead pencils,
blank-books, an old slate pencil wrapped in gold paper which Billy
insisted on using to draw pictures on a slate--he made this squeak