. I never did understand boys." Then she
tripped over me as I nearly upset us both in my frantic efforts to get
out of her way. "Or monkeys either," she added, shaking her skirts at
me with a displeased "_Shoo_," as if I had been a silly old hen.

It was very quiet about the house for a few days, and then some jolly
times began in Phil's room. As soon as the boys were allowed to visit
him I showed them some of my tricks, and kept them in roars of
laughter. I wheeled little Elsie's doll carriage around the room, and
I sat up with the doctor's pipe in my mouth, I drilled and danced, and
performed as if I had been on a stage. It was wonderful to them, for
they had never guessed how much I knew. One day I sat down in a little
rocking-chair with a kitten in my arms, and rocked and hugged it as if
it had been a baby. It wasn't breathing when I stopped. The boys said
I hugged it too hard, but they kept on bringing me something to rock
every day, until five kittens and a rabbit had been put to sleep so
soundly that they wouldn't wake up.

One day Phil was moved into Miss Patricia's room while his own was
being cleaned. Of course no boys were allowed to go in there with him
except Stuart. They had a good time, for Miss Patricia told them
stories and showed them the curious things in her cabinet and gave
them sugar-plums out of the big, blue china dragon that always stands
on top of it. But I could see that she was not enjoying their visit.
She was afraid that Stuart's rockers would bump against her handsome
old mahogany furniture, or that they would scratch it in some way, or
break some of her fine vases and jardinieres.

After awhile she was called down to the parlour to receive a guest,
and there was nothing to amuse the boys. Time dragged so heavily that
Phil begged Stuart to bring his little rubber-gun--gumbo-shooter he
called it. It was a wide rubber band fastened at each end to the tips
of a forked stick shaped like a big Y. They used buckshot to shoot
with, nipping up a shot in the middle of the band with thumb and
finger, and drawing it back as far as possible before letting it fly.

There was a fire in the grate, so they were comfortably warm even when
they opened the window to take turns in shooting at the red berries on
the vine just outside. It was as much as Phil could do, lying on the
sofa, to send a buckshot through the open window without hitting the
panes above, but Stuart cut a berry neatly from the vine at