r. Bishop tell
Lucy and James and me to watch for the little bird in the hole in his
camera when there was no little bird?"

Jonas, with the butt of his whip, humanely removed a large horse-fly
from the flank of Old Trumpeter before he said, "Mr. Bishop spoke
of the little bird merely to attract the attention of you and your
cousin James. While it is true that there was no little bird--or at
least, I saw none--it is equally true that you and James were
exceedingly restive."

[Illustration: ROLLO'S MOTHER]

"But, Jonas," continued Rollo, "if there was no little bird, did not
Mr. Bishop tell a lie?"

While Jonas was thoughtfully removing another horse-fly from Old
Trumpeter Rollo's father leaned over his son's shoulder and said
kindly, "My son, you must not disturb Jonas while he is driving, or we
shall soon all be in the ditch. It is only reasonable to suppose that
Mr. Bishop was mistaken in thinking that there was a little bird in
the studio. Or there may have been one under his black cloth. Did you
look under the black cloth?"

"No sir," replied Rollo.

"And did you look in Mr. Bishop's dark-room?"

"No sir," again replied Rollo.

"Then you see, Rollo," said his father, "you may well have been
mistaken. Let us say no more about it."

Rollo's family now felt themselves thoroughly equipped to receive and
to mingle with society. How they did so will be described in the next
chapter.

ROLLO'S DAY WITH A
DEBUTANTE

HOW OUR INNOCENT LITTLE HERO APPEARED
AT THE RITZ WITH HIS VERY MODERN COUSIN

One day Rollo was sitting on the little green cricket, which Jonas had
made for him, in a very discontented frame of mind. He was staring at
the open fireplace, in which were three birch logs; or rather he had
at first _thought_ they were logs, until Jonas pointed out to him that
they were only clever imitations made of iron, full of tiny holes,
through which flowed an evil-smelling odour called gas when Jonas
turned a small faucet. Rollo was at first mightily amused at these
logs, and admired especially the life-like way in which the bark was
shown to be covered with moss on one side.

"They are much prettier than real logs," said he, and thought he
should never tire of turning them on and off and making them sparkle
and blaze and smell.

In spite of all this, Rollo was dull and despondent. He was just
beginning to wonder whether he should go out in the hall and push the
elevator-buttons, or remove th