e, two, three, four, warts, never
trouble me more.' Then bury the pertater and never tell a living soul
where you buried it. You won't have no more warts. Mind you bury the
pertater, though. If you don't, and anyone picks it up, she'll get your
warts."

CHAPTER XVIII. SARA RAY HELPS OUT

We all missed Aunt Olivia greatly; she had been so merry and
companionable, and had possessed such a knack of understanding small
fry. But youth quickly adapts itself to changed conditions; in a few
weeks it seemed as if the Story Girl had always been living at Uncle
Alec's, and as if Uncle Roger had always had a fat, jolly housekeeper
with a double chin and little, twinkling blue eyes. I don't think Aunt
Janet ever quite got over missing Aunt Olivia, or looked upon Mrs.
Hawkins as anything but a necessary evil; but life resumed its even
tenor on the King farm, broken only by the ripples of excitement over
the school concert and letters from Aunt Olivia describing her trip
through the land of Evangeline. We incorporated the letters in Our
Magazine under the heading "From Our Special Correspondent" and were
very proud of them.

At the end of June our school concert came off and was a great event
in our young lives. It was the first appearance of most of us on any
platform, and some of us were very nervous. We all had recitations,
except Dan, who had refused flatly to take any part and was consequently
care-free.

"I'm sure I shall die when I find myself up on that platform, facing
people," sighed Sara Ray, as we talked the affair over in Uncle
Stephen's Walk the night before the concert.

"I'm afraid I'll faint," was Cecily's more moderate foreboding.

"I'm not one single bit nervous," said Felicity complacently.

"I'm not nervous this time," said the Story Girl, "but the first time I
recited I was."

"My Aunt Jane," remarked Peter, "used to say that an old teacher of hers
told her that when she was going to recite or speak in public she must
just get it firmly into her mind that it was only a lot of cabbage heads
she had before her, and she wouldn't be nervous."

"One mightn't be nervous, but I don't think there would be much
inspiration in reciting to cabbage heads," said the Story Girl
decidedly. "I want to recite to PEOPLE, and see them looking interested
and thrilled."

"If I can only get through my piece without breaking down I don't care
whether I thrill people or not," said Sara Ray.

"I'm afraid I'll forge