mind being
a grandmother to-morrow if I could look like that."

She came up smiling, and beckoned the girls to follow her. "I want to
show you something comical," she said. "I just discovered it." She led
the way to the end of the porch, and there, standing in a row, were six
little darkies, so black that their faces scarcely showed against the
black background of the night. Only their rolling white eyeballs and
gleaming teeth could be seen distinctly.

"They are Allison's proteges," she said. "Sylvia Gibbs's children, you
know. They are always on the outskirts of all the festivities when they
think they can pick up any crumbs in the way of refreshments. But
they'll have some good excuse to give for coming, you may be sure."

"Oh, they are the children who acted the charades at the old mill
picnic," said Eugenia, drawing nearer. "Get them to talk if you can,
Mrs. MacIntyre. Please do."

Except for a broader grin in token that they heard Mrs. MacIntyre's
questions, they were as unresponsive as six little black kittens, and
Keith, coming up just then, was sent to find Miss Allison. "They always
talk for auntie," he said. "She is over in one of the tents, and I'll go
get her."

Keith was right. Miss Allison proved the key that unlocked every little
red tongue, and they answered her questions glibly.

"We don brought sumpin to Miss 'Genia," stammered Tildy, shyly.
"M'haley, she got a chicken in dis yere box wot she gwine to give to
Miss 'Genia to take away wid her on de kyars."

"A chicken!" repeated Miss Allison, laughing, "What did M'haley bring
Miss Eugenia a chicken for?"

"'Cause Miss 'Genia, she give M'haley her hat wid roses on it ovah to
the ole mill picnic, when it fell in de spring an' got wet, and we
brought her a chicken to take away on de kyars fo' a pet."

An old bandbox tied with brown twine was promptly hoisted up from the
outer darkness into the light of the red dragon lanterns on the porch.
The sides had been pricked with a nail to admit air, and the lid was cut
in slits. Through these slits they could discover a half-grown chicken,
cowering sleepily on the bottom of the box. It was a mottled brown one,
with its wing feathers growing awkwardly in the wrong direction.

"Imagine me carrying this into the Waldorf," laughed Eugenia, when she
had expressed her thanks, and Mom Beck had been called to take the
children away and give them cake and cream in the background.

"But you'll have to take it