this? Polly?"

"No," said Betty.

"Na-o. Then p'raps it's Lucy. Eh?"

John tugged at Betty's dress and said "Come on," urgingly; but the man
was already letting down two slip-rails a little way from the crazy
gate, and his eyes rested on the second barefooted imp.

"Hullo!" he exclaimed, "An' how's this any'ow?"

John, who had a greater dread of capture than Betty, inquired innocently
if there were any wild flowers up this way.

The man drew his hand across his eyes to banish sleep inclinations. "Not
many now, I reckon," he said. "There might be a few sprigs of 'eath an'
the flannel flowers ain't all done yet. Goin' to town?"

Betty nodded, and John said,--

"Yes--we'll be gettin' back 'ome" in a fair imitation of his
questioner's voice.

"I'll be goin' as far as the markets," said the man "an' I don't mind
givin' you a lift ef you like."

John's eyes brightened, for he was longing for the centre of the city,
and he had felt they were covering ground very slowly. And Betty's
brightened because she thought she would soon coax the man into letting
her drive.

So the fortune seekers made their entry into town in a fruit cart.

CHAPTER XVI

THE NOTE ON THE PINCUSHION

Every morning there was a skirmish between Betty and Cyril as to who
should have the first bath, and Betty generally won, because as she
pointed out, she had Nancy to bath, too, and to make her bed, and set
the table, and cut the lunches, whereas Cyril only had to bring up two
loads of wood.

But this morning, to Cyril's delight, he was first and he got right into
the room and fastened the door with the prop (a short thick stick which
was wedged between the centre of the door and the bath, and was Mr.
Bruce's patent to replace the handle that "lost itself"), and still
Betty came not. And he loitered in the bathroom and played, and
half-dressed, and then undressed, and got back into the bath, and out
again, and dressed, and still no Betty banged at the door.

"Can't make out where Miss Betty's got to," said Mary sulkily, "I'll
tell your mother on her. She's not set the table, and she's not cut the
lunches, and she's not done nothing."

Cyril, who had brought up his wood and otherwise and in every way
performed his morning's duties, waxed indignant at Betty and her
negligence, and went down the passage to her room, muttering--

"I'll tell mother of you, Betty Bruce, so there!"

But no Betty Bruce was there. Only Nancy in her nigh