ss Dorry, not a feature just right for the
likeness; still you've a something, somehow--somewhere--and yet I can't
place it; it's what I call a vanishin' likeness."

At this the two D's lost their eager look, and burst into a hearty
laugh.

"Hello, old Vanisher!" said Donald, making a sudden dive at Dorothy.

"Hello, old Stiff-legs!" retorted Dorothy, laughing and pushing him
away.

Here old Nero roused himself, and growled a low, rumbling, distant
growl, as if protesting against some unwelcome intruder.

"There, children, that's sufficient!" said Liddy, with dignity. "Don't
get tussling. It isn't gentleman-and-lady-like. Now see how you've
tumbled your sister's hair, Master Donald, and Mr. G.'s so particular.
Hear Nero, too! Sakes! it seems sometimes like a voice from the dead to
hear him go that way when we're talking of old times."

"Be still, old fellow!" cried Donald, playfully. "Don't you see Liddy's
talking to us? Well, we look like our mamma, any way,--don't we, Liddy?"

"That picture of your mamma in your room, Master Donald," replied Lydia,
"has certainly a good deal of your look, but I can't say from my own
knowledge that it ever was a good likeness. It was sent over afterward,
you know, and your mamma never was here except once, and then it so
happened I was off to camp-meeting with Cousin Crump. Your papa used to
go to see the young lady down at her home in New York, and after the
wedding they went to Niagara Falls, and after that to Europe. Seems to
me this going out of your own country's a bad business for young couples
who ought to settle down and begin life." (Here Nero stood up, and his
growl grew more decided.) "Well, as I was saying--Mercy on us! If there
isn't that man again!"

The last part of Lydia's sentence, almost drowned by Nero's barking, was
addressed to the empty window; at least it was empty when the D's turned
toward it.

"Who? where?" shouted Dorothy. But Donald sprang up from the bench, and,
followed by the noisy old Nero, ran out of the room, across the
basement-hall, and through the back-door, before Lydia had time to
reply.

"Who was it, Liddy?" asked Dorry, still looking toward the empty window,
while Nero came sauntering back as though the matter that had lured him
forth had not been worth the trouble of following up.

"Oh, no one, dearie," said Lydia, with assumed carelessness; "that is,
no one in particular. It's just a man. Well, as I was saying, your Aunt
Kate was