ral years older. Roger was so
accustomed to the companionship of Edward Watkins, who frequently joined
the Club in their festivities and who often came to Rosemont to call on
Miss Merriam, that the difference did not seem to him a cause of
embarrassment. He was unusually easy for a boy of his age because he had
always been accustomed to take his sailor father's place at home in the
entertainment of his mother's guests.

Young Clark, on his side, found his new acquaintance a boy worth talking
to, and they got on well. He was studying at a law school in the city,
it seemed, and commuted every day.

"It's a long ride," he agreed when Roger suggested it, "but when I get
home I have the good country air to breathe and I'd rather have that
than town amusements just now when I'm working hard."

Roger spoke of Edward Watkins and Stanley was interested in the
possibility of meeting him. Evidently his aunts had told him all about
the Belgian baby and Miss Merriam, for he said Elisabeth would be the
nearest approach to a soldier from a Belgian battlefield that he had
seen.

Roger left with the feeling that his new acquaintance would be a
desirable addition to the neighborhood group and he was so pleased that
he stopped in at his Aunt Louise's not only to shake the furnace but to
tell her about Stanley Clark.

[Illustration: The Hot Bed]

During the next month they all came to know him well and they liked his
cheerfulness and his interest in what they were doing and planning. On
Saturdays he helped Roger build a hot bed in the sunniest spot against
the side of the kitchen ell. They found that the frost had not stiffened
the ground after they managed to dig down a foot, so that the excavation
was not as hard as they had expected. They dug a hole the size of two
window sashes and four feet deep, lining the sides with some old bricks
that they found in the cellar. At first they filled the entire bed with
fresh stable manure and straw. After it had stayed under the glass two
days it was quite hot and they beat it down a foot and put on six inches
of soil made one-half of compost and one-half of leaf mould that they
found in a sheltered corner of the West Woods.

"Grandfather didn't believe we could manage to get good soil at this
season even if we did succeed in digging the hole, but when I make up my
mind to do a thing I like to succeed," said Roger triumphantly when they
had fitted the sashes on to planks that sloped at the s