into the yard. The room
they passed through was very clean, and held a stove with a little tin
kettle on it, a bed with a patchwork quilt, a shining little table and
several chairs with flowers painted on them.

The yard was quite a curiosity, and seemed to be given up entirely to
pigeons and chickens, who made a great fuss, flying up on the old
woman's shoulder and pecking at her; while an old duck waddled solemnly
after, giving a quack once in a while to let them know she was there.

Mrs. Wills took them to the hen-house, and told them where to look for
eggs.

As Dimple had been there before, she knew where to look, and they soon
made up the dozen.

The old duck followed them into the house, and was waddling after them
into the shop, when Mrs. Wills with a "Shoo! Shoo!" drove her out.

"Now, Dallas girl, and Graham girl," said Mrs. Wills, "does the mother
need anything else to-day?"

"There was something else," said Dimple, "but I can't think what. Can
you, Florence?"

"There were four things, I know," said Florence. "But I don't remember
the fourth."

"A--apples, B--brooms, C--crackers, D--dust-pans," went on Mrs. Wills,
rapidly, and then paused.

"No; not any of those," said Dimple.

"E--extract," said Mrs. Wills.

"Yes, that's it. You have guessed, Mrs. Wills, vanilla, please."

"E--extract, E--extract," said the old woman, as she hunted in a dark
corner.

"And C--cocoanut cakes. Red or white?" she asked, opening the case.

"White," said Dimple. "But Mrs. Wills----"

"Tut! Tut! Don't you say it; don't you say it, or I'll take back my
eggs," she said, as she handed each of the children a cake.

"Thank you, Mrs. Wills. When I'm grown-up I'll make you a great big cake
and send it to you," said Dimple.

That pleased the old woman mightily, and she nodded good-bye to them,
saying, "Lemons, eggs and extract," over and over to herself.

"What a ridiculous old woman!" said Florence. "Is she crazy?"

"No," said Dimple. "But she is queer. She is good, though, and mamma
always buys everything from her that she can, and she feels so bad if I
don't take the things she offers me that I have to accept them."

"What is the matter with her hand?"

"She burned it trying to save her child from burning."

"Did she save it?"

"No; and that is what makes her so queer. She has never been the same
since."

"My! how warm it is getting," said Florence. "I am glad we have broad
brimmed hats. Let's hurry home.