the desk, Miss Baxter not at all sure which was which.

"Well?" Phyllis demanded as they met in the hall.

"Well, what?" Janet inquired.

"Did you flunk?"

"I don't believe so; it was easy."

"Easy!"

"I thought so, anyway. I answered them all, and they seemed to work
out right."

"Hum."

"What's the trouble?"

"Oh, nothing, only I flunked."

"How do you know?"

"Because I just wrote numbers."

"Oh, well, cheer up. Maybe they were the right numbers." Janet was
determined to be cheerful. She had found the examination much easier
than she had expected and she felt reasonably sure that she had passed.

"I don't much care; we've the rest of the day to ourselves anyway;
let's go home." Phyllis made the suggestion light heartedly enough,
for lessons never worried her for very long and mathematics least of
all.

They walked home through the park and met Don. He was chasing brownies
as usual, and poor Nannie was finding it difficult to keep up with him.
She never let him out of her sight for even an instant, and every man
that passed was a possible kidnapper in her old eyes.

Don greeted the girls with joy.

"I were chasing a brownie!" he exclaimed, "but he got away from me."

He took Phyllis by the hand and led her towards the lake. Janet sat
down on the bench beside his nurse.

"Why does Don always say were, instead of was?" she inquired.

"'Deed, miss, that's his father's fault," Nannie replied. "One day
Master Don said 'they was going' and his father picked him up on his
lap and he said to him, said he, 'Don, never say was, say were.' The
poor lamb was so startled that he never forgot, and I can't make him
change for the life of me."

"Don't try," Janet laughed; "it's awfully cunning to hear him say were!
I hope he never changes."

Phyllis came back, a brown leaf in her hand, and Don tugging at her
skirts.

"Here we are, Nannie, all safe and sound, and we caught the brownie."
She gave the leaf to Don, and she and Janet went on their way.

"Let's stop and see Akbar," Phyllis suggested.

"I knew you'd say that," Janet laughed. "What makes you so fond of
that animal."

"Oh, I don't know; he always makes me want to do something with my
hands."

"Paint?"

"No, I don't think so."

"Mold, perhaps?" Janet asked the question idly, but Phyllis spun around
and stopped as she heard it.

"That's it!" she cried excitedly. "I want to mold him. I never
realized it until this minute. C