"

"The lady what lives on the farm right back of ours."

"Did she tell you to come and see us?"

"Oh, no! She said not to, but she doesn't know anything about our
_mordige_, so while she was in the store we hustled over after the
money."

"Who did send you?"

"Why, nobody. We came all by ourselves."

"Hm, I thought so. Is this _mordige_ money to buy candy and dolls with?"

"No, it ain't!" snapped Peace, thinking he was trying to tease her.
"It's to keep old Skinflint from taking our farm away, so that we will
have to live around at different places."

"Where are your father and mother?"

"The angels have got 'em."

"Oh! Then you are orphans. Who takes care of you?"

"We all of us take care of ourselves, but Gail is the play mother."

"How many are there in your family?"

"Seven with Towzer. He's a dog."

They questioned her until the whole pitiful story was told, and then
stood silently lost in thought, while Peace fidgeted impatiently,
watching Old Gray across the street, expecting any minute to see Mrs.
Grinnell put in appearance.

Finally Mr. Swift said, jestingly, "What security have you to offer?"

"Sickerity?" repeated Peace, wonderingly.

"Yes, when we loan money we have to have some security from the party.
They must own some property or something of value to give us so if the
money isn't paid back we won't lose anything."

Peace pondered deeply, then drew off a small, worn, gold ring which had
lost its "set," and laid it in the man's hand, saying, "That's all the
prop'ty I've got except eight hens which I gave Gail for those I
poisoned. It had a ruby in it once, but the old rooster picked it out
and et it. I used to have two bunnies, too, but last Christmas the
German kids ate Winkum and Blinkum all up."

Mr. Swift smiled, but shook his head gravely, as he returned the ring.
"I am afraid that won't be enough, Miss Greenfield," he began, when Mr.
Smart cut him short, "What is the use of fooling any longer, Swift? She
probably knows as much about such matters as your grandbaby. A kid her
age knows a lot about business. Give her a nickel and send her packing."

The genial Mr. Swift led the disappointed duet to the door and dismissed
them with the words, "I am sorry, but we deal only with grown-up men and
women. Call again when you are twenty-one."

As the door closed behind them, however, the other tall, gray man, who
had been a silent spectator of the scene, spoke reprovingly, "I think