orgette!" said Betty. "Her name is Fairy Queen,
and that other one is--"

"It's my turn!" said Billy. "Mine's going to be named Mewtral."

"You mean Neutral," corrected Francis scathingly.

"No; he's said it," declared Jo. "She's mewtralled all the morning. She
don't seem to like her boarding house. Now, all you kidlets run to the
kitchen and ask cook for a cup of milk and a clean rag. I'll force-feed
Mewtral, 'cause she's a little suffragette. Don't hurry back too fast."

The children went with alacrity and returned in the same way; but Pen and
Jo improved the opportunity for conversation without the three interested
listeners.

"Here, Jo," said Billy, handing over the milk when they had returned.
"Let's see you feed Mewtral. She must be hungry."

"If she were me," said Jo, whose eyes were shining, "she'd be too happy to
eat."

He fed the kitten and then tried in vain to obtain further converse with
Pen alone, but the children out-maneuvered all his efforts and finally Pen
took them back to the house.

"When?" half whispered Jo, as they were leaving.

"When Mrs. Kingdon says," she murmured in reply.

She turned back for another glance. He was standing, cap in hand, with the
air of a conqueror.

"What's the verdict on Jo?" asked Kingdon.

"Jo's inimitable," she replied lightly.

"Wait until you dance with him," he said. "Jo dances his way into every
girl's heart."

"I can believe that."

"He's one of those sunny-hearted fellows that people take to be shallow,
but under the surface brightness there's a tolerably deep current. And he
never nurses a grudge. If anyone should stick a knife in Jo, he'd only
make a question mark of his eyebrow and give a wondering smile."

"What I can't understand," said Pen, "is why the children don't like
him."

"He plagues us all the time," complained Betty.

"It's very odd, though," commented Kingdon, meditatively, and with a
twinkle in his eye, "how you do like to be plagued. You are always tagging
at his heels. I think you must be coquetting with Jo."

"He's so different with them from Kurt," said Mrs. Kingdon. "Kurt is so
patient and so sweet with children. He understands them."

"Kurt," said Pen, "seems to be like some things that are too good for
everyday use. He should be laid away on a shelf for Sundays." Then,
meeting Mrs. Kingdon's wondering eyes, she added with a little flush:
"That isn't true--and it's unkind! I don't really mean it."

"We are all read