ung
Mrs. Severn to Staten Island, every servant in the household understood
that serious trouble was impending for them.

Day by day the children became more unruly; Sunday they were demons; and
Mrs. Farren shuddered to think what Monday might bring forth.

The day began ominously at breakfast with general target practice,
ammunition consisting of projectiles pinched from the interior of hot
muffins. Later, when Mrs. Farren ventured into the schoolroom, she found
Scott Seagrave drawing injurious pictures of Howker on the black-board,
and Geraldine sorting lumps of sugar from the bowl on the
breakfast-tray, which had not yet been removed.

"Dearies," she began, "it is after nine o'clock and----"

"No school to-day, Mrs. Farren," interrupted Scott cheerfully; "we
haven't anything to do till Kathleen comes back, and you know it
perfectly well!"

"Yes, you have, dearie; Mrs. Severn has just sent you this list of
lessons." She held out a black-edged envelope.

Geraldine, who had been leisurely occupied in dropping cologne on a lump
of sugar, thrust the lump into her pink mouth and turned sharply on Mrs.
Farren.

"What list?" she demanded. "Give that letter to me.... Oh, Scott! Did
you ever hear of anything half so mean? Kathleen's written out about a
thousand questions in geography for us!"

"I can't stand that sort of interference!" shouted Scott, dropping his
chalk and aiming a kick at the big papier-mache globe. "I'm sorry
Kathleen's mother is probably going to die, but I've had enough
geography, too."

"Mrs. Severn's mother died on Friday," said the housekeeper solemnly.

The children paused, serious for a moment in the presence of the
incomprehensible.

"We're sorry," said Geraldine slowly.... "When is Kathleen coming back?"

"Perhaps to-night, dearie----"

Scott impatiently detached the schoolroom globe from its brass axis:
"I'm sorry, too," he said; "but I'm tired of lessons. Now, Mrs. Farren,
watch me! I'm going to kick a goal from the field. Here, you hold it,
Geraldine; Mrs. Farren, you had better try to block it and cheer for
Yale!"

Geraldine seized the globe, threw herself flat on the floor, and, head
on one side, wriggled, carefully considering the angle. Then, tipping
the globe, she adjusted it daintily for her brother to kick.

"A little higher, please; look out there, Mrs. Farren!" said Scott
calmly; "Harvard is going to score this time. Now, Geraldine!"

Thump! came the kick, but Mrs. F