ly, most
inappropriately.

"Save us!" ejaculated Miss Arabella.

The Sawyer orchard was separated from Miss Arabella's garden by a high
board fence, further fortified by Miss Arabella's long, neat woodpile.
Hitherto, the place had been used exclusively as a parade-ground for
Isaac and Rebekah, and the Sawyers' hens; but now it seemed to have
been suddenly populated by all the children in the village, shrieking,
scolding and laughing. Could the orphan be big enough to run at large?
And had the McQuarry and the Cross and the Williams children all met to
celebrate its arrival?

"Save us!" ejaculated Miss Arabella again, "they must 'a' got a noisy
one!"

There was a scrambling, tearing noise on the other side of the fence,
and a head arose above it, followed by the figure of a boy. It was a
queer, wasted, tiny figure, with one shoulder higher than the other.
The face was pinched and weird-looking, with that strange mixture of
childishness and age that is seen in the countenances of the
unfortunate little ones who are called out too early into the battle of
life. A long, claw-like arm reached out, and a finger pointed at the
object in Miss Arabella's pail.

"That there's our ball!" said the elf sharply. "Give us a throw!"

Miss Arabella stared, motionless.

"Are--are you Jake Sawyer's orphant?" she asked incredulously.

The boy grinned, a queer contortion of his wizened little face with
more mischief in it than mirth.

"Naw, I'm just the tail of it," he answered enigmatically. "Say, when
did the folks in that there house adopt you?"

Miss Arabella was too much astonished and abashed to reply; and just at
that moment a second object appeared on the woodpile. It arose from
the Sawyer orchard like the first, swinging itself up feet foremost in
some miraculous fashion. This time it was a girl, larger and more
robust than the boy, but plainly younger. Her eyes were wild, her face
was bold, and she had a mad mop of bushy black hair. She perched
herself astride the top board of the fence and gave back Miss
Arabella's stare with interest.

"Where on earth did you come from?" cried Miss Arabella.

"None o' your business!" was the prompt retort. "Hand over that there
ball!"

Miss Arabella had no time to obey, for a third apparition arose out of
the Sawyer orchard, feet first, and perching itself astride the fence,
commanded, "Histe over that there ball!" It was another girl, exactly
like the first, except