ead of by suspenders.

He came down from the tree as easily as he had climbed it--and with the
peaches intact.

"They must have a fine gymnasium at the school where you go," said
Agnes, admiringly.

"I never went to school," said the boy, and blushed again.

Agnes was very curious. She had already established herself on the porch
step, wrapped the robe closely around her, shook her two plaits back
over her shoulders, and now sunk her teeth into the first peach. With
her other hand she beckoned the white-haired boy to sit down beside her.

"Come and eat them," she said. "Breakfast won't be ready for ever and
ever so long yet."

The boy removed the peaches he had picked, and made a little pyramid of
them on the step. Then he put on his jacket and cap before he accepted
her invitation. Meanwhile Agnes was eating the peach and contemplating
him gravely.

She had to admit, now that she more closely inspected them, that the
white-haired boy's garments were extremely shabby. Jacket and trousers
were too small for him, as she had previously observed. His shirt was
faded, very clean, and the elbows were patched. His shoes were broken,
but polished brightly.

When he bit into the first peach his eye brightened and he ate the fruit
greedily. Agnes believed he must be very hungry, and for once the
next-to-the-oldest Kenway girl showed some tact.

"Will you stay to breakfast with us?" she asked. "Mrs. MacCall always
gets up at six o'clock. And Ruth will want to see you, too. Ruth's the
oldest of us Kenways."

"Is this a boarding-house?" asked the boy, seriously.

"Oh, no!"

"It's big enough."

"I 'spect it is," said Agnes. "There are lots of rooms we never use."

"Could--could a feller get to stay here?" queried the white-haired boy.

"Oh! I don't know," gasped Agnes. "You--you'd have to ask Ruth. And Mr.
Howbridge, perhaps."

"Who's he?" asked the boy, suspiciously.

"Our lawyer."

"Does he live here?"

"Oh, no. There isn't any man here but Uncle Rufus. He's a colored man
who lived with Uncle Peter who used to own this house. Uncle Peter gave
it to us Kenway girls when he died."

"Oh! then you own it?" asked the boy.

"Mr. Howbridge is the executor of the estate; but we four Kenway
girls--and Aunt Sarah--have the income from it. And we came to live in
this old Corner House almost as soon as Uncle Peter Stower died."

"Then you could take boarders if you wanted to?" demanded the
white-haired boy, sticki