of the garden, and the lawn, and
the swing, and--and--everything.--Aren't we, Joan?"

"Yes, werry, werry tired," agreed Joan with ready assent. She always did
agree with everything that Darby said. He was her model, her hero, who,
in Joan's eyes, could do no wrong.

"I'm afraid I cannot invent or suggest any fresh occupation for you just
now," answered Auntie Alice, smiling down into the eager upturned faces
beside her knee. "Would you not run away and have a romp with pussy? she
is frolicking with her kittens in the garden, quite close to the
tool-house."

"We were playing with pussy for ever so long, and look there!" said
Darby, holding up for his aunt's inspection one small brown and not
over-clean hand. Across the back of it ran a long, straight scratch from
which the blood was slowly oozing. "That's what pussy did! That's why
we left her, and why we don't want to go back to the garden."

Darby's tone was so rueful, his expression one of such patient
forbearance towards base treachery, that his aunt laughed outright. Yet
she kissed the wounded hand again and again, whispering gently the
while,--

"Poor Darby! poor little hand! and poor pussy too!" she added below her
breath. For she guessed correctly that pussy--who was in general a
long-suffering animal--must have been sorely beset when she used her
claws in defence of herself or the rights of her family.

"If you really haven't an errand, won't you just invent one, auntie?"
persisted Darby. Then suddenly he cried, while his face beamed with the
happiness of the thought that had struck him, "May we go up to the farm
and see Mrs. Grey? Oh, do say 'yes,' Auntie Alice!"

"Well, I'm sure I don't know. Perhaps we should hear what Aunt Catharine
thinks. Still, I suppose you might," decided Auntie Alice, her
hesitation overcome by the pleading look in Darby's eyes.

"Oh, thank you, thank you, dear Auntie Alice!" said both children in a
breath, flinging themselves in ecstasy upon their aunt. She, however,
did not like to have her delicate ribbons crumpled by smudgy, sticky
little hands; so she gently withdrew herself from their embrace, shaking
a warning finger playfully at the pair as she gave them a caution,--

"You must not stay too long or tease Mrs. Grey, either of you."

"We shan't stay very long," promised Darby; "and Mrs. Grey says we never
tease her."

"Mrs. Grey hasn't got no chil'ens of her own to play wif and 'muse her,
and that's why she likes Dar