nt of
its pampered little life. The boys had some one to see that they were
properly clothed and fed, and their nursery at home looked as if a toy
store had been emptied into it. But no one took any interest in their
amusement. When they asked questions the answer always was, "Oh, run along
and don't bother me now." There were no quiet bedtime talks for them to
smooth the snarls out of the day. Their mother was always dining out or
receiving company at that time, and their nurse hurried them to sleep with
threats of the bugaboos under the bed that would catch them if they were
not still. They suspected that the Little Colonel's stories would soon
lead to a lecture on quarrelling.

Presently they forgot their fears in the interest of the tale. The
youngest boy sidled a little nearer and climbed up on the end of the bench
beside her. Then Howell, dragging his whip behind him, came a step closer,
then another, till he too was on the bench beside her.

She had never had such a flattering audience. They never took their eyes
from her face, and listened with such breathless attention that she talked
on and on, wondering how long she could hold their interest.

"They listen to me just as people do to Betty," she thought, proudly. An
hour went by, and half of another, and the bugle blew the first
dinner-call.

"Go on," demanded Howell, edging closer. "We ain't hungry. Are we,
Henny?"

"But I must go and get ready for dinner," said Lloyd, rising.

"Will you tell us some more to-morrow?" begged Howell, holding her skirts
with his dirty little hand.

"Yes, yes," promised Lloyd, laughing and breaking loose from his hold.
"I'll tell you as many stories as you want."

It was a rash promise, for next day, no sooner had she finished breakfast
and started to take her morning walk around the deck with her father, than
the boys were at her heels. They were eating bananas as they staggered
along, and as fast as one disappeared another was dragged out of their
blouses, which seemed pouched out all around their waists with an
inexhaustible supply. Up and down they followed her, until Papa Jack began
to laugh, and ask what she had done to tame the little savages.

As soon as she stopped at her chair they dropped down on the floor,
tailor-fashion, waiting for her to begin. Their devotion amused her at
first, and gratified her later, when the English woman who had complained
of their manners stopped to speak to her.

"You are a real