aid. "Why, I was in
Dorry's room all the time. First I heard Don run up to the garret for
something, then you went up after him, and then you both passed down
again, and out upon the piazza. I suppose you went to the old
carriage-house, as usual, didn't you?"

[Illustration: JOSIE MANNING WAITS FOR DORRY. (See page 156.)]

"Of course we did. We're turning it into a first-class gymnasium. Mr.
Reed has given it to Don outright, and I tell you it will be a big
thing. Jack's helping us. Don has saved up lots of pocket-money, and Mr.
Reed gives him all the lumber he wants. Just you wait. But, by the way,
Dorry isn't out. Don told me himself she was rummaging up in the
garret."

"Why, that's queer!" was Josie's surprised exclamation. "Then it must
have been Dorry who ran down stairs. It couldn't be though; some one,
with a hat on and a short-sleeved pink dress, went by like a flash."

"Don't you know Dorry Reed yet?" laughed Ed, "she is always dressing up.
Why, one day when I was there, she came into Don's room dressed like an
old woman,--cap, crutch, corked wrinkles and all complete; never saw
anything like it. What a little witch she is!"

"I think she's an angel!" said Josie, warmly.

"A pretty lively angel!" was Ed's response.

But the tone of admiration was so genuine that it satisfied even Josie
Manning.

* * * * *

"Well!" exclaimed Donald, noting Dorry's strange costume, as he entered
the room, after shouting a second good-by to Ed Tyler.

"Well!" echoed Dorry, freeing herself from her uncle's arms, and with a
little jump facing Donald,--"what of it? I thought I'd pay Uncle a visit
with my pretty doll-cousin here" (hugging Delia as she spoke), "and he
started as if I were a ghost. Didn't you, Uncle?"

"I suppose I did," assented Mr. Reed, with a sad smile. "In fact, Dorry,
I may as well admit, that what is fun to you, happened, for once, not to
be fun to me."

"But it _wasn't fun_ to me!" cried that astonishing Dorry. "It was--it
was--tell him, Don; _you_ know."

There was no need for Don to speak. Dorry's flushed cheeks, shining
eyes, and excited manner told their own story; and both her brother and
uncle, because they knew her so well; felt quite sure that in a moment
Dorothy's own self would have a word to say.

Still folding the dolly to her heart and in both arms, and with the
yearning look of a little child, the young girl, without moving from the
middle of the ro