oiling us just the same way," said Eugenia.
"Those little souvenir spoons she sent up with the chocolate yesterday
are perfect darlings. I think the world of mine."

"I wonder what the surprise will be to-day," said Lloyd, as the jingling
of silver and tinkling of ice in glasses sounded on the stairs.

"I know," said Betty, running to open the door for the procession of
tray bearers. "It is conundrum salad. I helped godmother make it."

Eliot, Mom Beck, and the housemaid entered in solemn file, each bearing
a tray containing a simple lunch, in the centre of which was a fancy
plate containing a pile of crisp green lettuce.

"Isn't that a dainty dish to set before the king!" exclaimed Joyce,
examining her conundrum salad. "Oh, girls, how that did fool me. I could
have sworn that those were real lettuce leaves, and they are only paper.
But what a clever imitation, and what a lot of conundrums written
inside!"

"See if you can guess this one?" cried Eugenia. "Isn't it funny?" and
she read a clever one that set them all to thinking. There was much
laughter when they finally had to give it up, and she told them the
answer.

"Now listen to this," said Lloyd next, and then it was Joyce's turn, and
the lunch was eaten in the midst of much laughing and many bright
remarks that the salad called forth.

"You wouldn't think that having measles was so funny," said Betty, when
the trays had been carried out, "if you had had it the way I did. It was
in the middle of harvest, so nobody had time to take care of me. Cousin
Hetty had so much to do that she couldn't come up-stairs many times a
day to wait on me. She'd just look in the door and ask if I wanted
anything, and hurry away again. My little room in the west gable was
_so_ hot. The sun beat against it all afternoon, and the water in the
pitcher wouldn't stay cool. Sometimes I'd cry till my throat ached,
wishing that I had a mother to sit beside me, and put her cool hands
against my face, and rub my back when it ached, and sing me to sleep.
And after I got better, and my appetite began to come back, I'd lie and
watch the door for hours, it seemed to me, waiting for Cousin Hetty to
come up with my meals. I'd think of all sorts of dainty things that I
had read about, until my mouth watered. Then when she came, maybe there
would be nothing but a cup of tea slopped all over the saucer, and a
piece of burnt toast. Or maybe it would be a bowl of soup half cold, or
too salty. Poor