her shapely head,
"be sure to lock your window because it is right off the porch roof,
and with Aunt Audrey away, we can't be sure of old Michael's police
ability."

"Oh, Cleo," gulped Madaline, who, being dimply, always seemed the baby
of the trio, "do you think anyone would climb up the post poles?"

"No, certainly not, silly," replied Cleo with a show of scorn, "but you
see, I must share the responsibility when Aunt Audrey is away, and it
is always best to keep windows directly off low roofs locked. Then, if
anyone should try to get in we would be sure to hear them. Run away
now, and try on your new Billie Burkes. Maybe I'll come in and inspect
them when I get myself ready."

The low mountain house presently echoed with the girls' laughter, for
indulging in their usual propensity to prolong recreation, a
dressing-up contest was crowded in the hour of undressing. Billie
Burks and boudoir caps, under long capes and wild draperies, furnished
equipment adequate and ridiculous, so that even Jennie, who was dragged
from her mending out to the second hall to serve as audience, found
herself laughing foolishly at the girl scouts' antics.

Cleo impersonated "Walla-Hoola," with a string of twenty neckties
(borrowed from Uncle Guy's room) dangling around her waist, over a
combination of pink crepe and bluebird pajamas. At the back of her
neck, in savage glee, was propped the piano feather duster, the same
being somewhat supported by another necktie of Kelly green hue, that
banded her classic brow.

Madaline "tried on" Circe, all swathed up in a billowy white mosquito
netting, that might never again be used as a bed canopy. She found her
"rock" on a third floor landing, and clung frantically to the stairs
post, while the wild sea of perfectly good oak steps dashed savagely at
her uncovered toes. She also pink-pinked Cleo's ukelele, according to
Circean traditions.

Grace rolled around the floor in the ocean waves--the lost soul who was
to be saved by someone, anyone would do, so far as Grace was concerned.
All she had to worry about apparently was the roll. Had she been a
little older, and just a little more rotund, one might have suspected
her indulging in a treatment; but it required, finally, the combined
strength of Cleo and Jennie to extricate the "lost soul" from the
meshes into which that roll and a couple of fine silkoline quilts had
engulfed her.

"Mrs. Dunbar wouldn't like to have the quilts soiled," i