he last of the small boys.

"I s'pose we could walk."

"Walk!" Conny exhibited her flapping sole. "You don't expect me to walk
three miles in that shoe?"

"Very well," said Patty. "What _shall_ we do?"

"We might go back to the photographer's and borrow some car-fare."

"No! I'm not going to parade myself the length of Main Street again with
_that_ hole in my stocking."

"Very well," Conny shrugged. "Think of something."

"I suppose we could go to the livery stable and--"

"It's on the other side of town--I can't flap all that distance. Every
time I take a step, I have to lift my foot ten inches high."

"Very well." It was Patty's turn to shrug. "Perhaps you can think of
something better?"

"I think the simplest way would be to take a car, and ask the conductor
to charge it to us."

"Yes--and explain for the benefit of all the passengers that we belong
at St. Ursula's School? It would be all over town by night, and the
Dowager would be furious."

"Very well--what shall we do?"

They were standing at the moment before a comfortable frame house with
three children romping on the veranda. The children left off their play
to come to the top of the steps and stare.

"Come on!" Patty urged. "We'll sing the 'Gypsy Trail.'" (This was the
latest song that had swept the school.) "I'll play an accompaniment on
the tambourine, and you can flap your sole. Maybe they'll give us ten
cents. It would be a beautiful lark to earn our car-fare home--I'm
_sure_ it's worth ten cents to hear me sing."

Conny glanced up and down the deserted street. No policeman was in
sight. She grudgingly allowed herself to be drawn up the walk, and the
music began. The children applauded loudly; and the two were just
congratulating themselves on a very credible performance, when the door
opened and a woman appeared--a first cousin to Miss Lord.

"Stop that noise immediately! There's somebody sick inside."

The tone also was reminiscent of Latin. They turned and ran as fast as
Conny's flapping sole would take her. When they had put three good
blocks between themselves and the Latin woman, they dropped down on a
friendly stepping-stone, and leaned against each other's shoulders and
laughed.

A man rounded the corner of the house before them, pushing a mowing
machine.

"Here, you!" he ordered. "Move on."

They got up, meekly, and moved on several blocks further. They were
going in exactly the opposite direction from St. Ursula's schoo