ils that climbed so gracefully
from a tiny brick wall, just edging the breakfast room. The "wall" was
composed of white tile bricks, and the soft green vines, tumbling over
the edges, and capering up on the window ledges, made an effect at once
free and conventional.

"Peanuts and sweet potatoes!" exclaimed Madaline. "Who would think
they grew such beautiful, soft green vines!"

"I'll leave Cleo to show you about," announced Mrs. Dunbar. "I'm going
to a town meeting this morning. We are working for a circulating
library, to give reading to the people tied up in the hills. You see
stretched out there, over the golf links as far as you can see, are
farmers' homes. The folks are always so busy, and always so tired,
they very seldom get to our pretty library, so we can see no good
reason why we can't send our library put to them by motor. And you
youngsters will be interested in knowing this plan includes Girl Scouts
and Boy Scouts as distributors. Help yourselves to investigating," she
concluded, snatching up her white sailor hat and jabbing it on her head
with a most determined if a bit reckless slam. "I'm off till lunch,
one thirty, you know. Have a nice time," and Audrey Dunbar was off to
tackle the novel project of a traveling library for New Jersey farmers.

Left to themselves the girls literally broke loose, and it was not
surprising that Jennie should leave her work more than once, to watch
surreptitiously, lest some of her choice baby begonias, set out in
their tiny and perishable hand painted pots, come to grief in the
rampage of the romping girls.

"Good to populate this big house," commented Jennie, "but swoopy to
start out with." At the same time Jennie smiled approvingly as she
stopped to watch the three girls run from vase to picture, and from
curios to brasses, in their tour of inspection through the artistic
home of Guy and Audrey Dunbar. Just now all three chums were squatted
on a beautiful old blue Chinese rug, noses almost buried in the silky
fiber, each declaring the tones were different blues from those
discovered by the other.

A tap-tap of the brass knocker on the "pig-door" off the side porch
announced the callers, Lalia and Lucille Hayden, and brought the scout
girls up from their rug inspection.

Having met their neighbors the evening previous, the three visitors
were soon ready to join them in the proposed tramp over Second Mountain.

"Our violets are just violeting," began Lu