f crackers was falling
upon the guilty.

One after the other he flung the crackers through the transom until they
were all discharged. Not a sound now from the bombarded quarters.
Chuckling, Neale stole away, sure that he would have a big laugh on
Agnes in the morning.

But before he got back into his wing of the house, he spied a candle
with a girl in a pink kimono behind it.

"Whatever do you want out here, Neale O'Neil? A drink?"

It was Ruth. Neale was full of tickle over his joke, and he had to
relate it.

"I've just been paying off that smart sister of yours in her own coin,"
he chuckled.

"Which smart sister?"

"Why, Agnes."

"But how?"

Neale told her how he had found the bag of crackers on the table beside
his bed. "Nobody but Aggie would be up to such a trick, I know,"
chuckled Neale. "So I just pitched 'em all through the transom at her."

"What transom?" gasped Ruth, in dismay. "Where did you throw them?"

"Why, right through _that_ one," and Neale pointed. "Isn't that the room
you and Aggie occupy?"

"My goodness' sakes alive!" cried Ruth, awe-struck. "What _have_ you
done, Neale O'Neil? _That's Aunt Sarah's room._"

Ruth rushed to the door, tried it, found it unbolted, and ran in. Her
candle but dimly revealed the apartment; but it gave light enough to
show that Aunt Sarah was not in evidence.

Almost in the middle of the room stood the big "four-poster," with
canopy and counterpane, the fringe of which reached almost to the rag
carpet that covered the floor. A cracker crunched under Ruth's
slipper-shod foot. Indeed, crackers were everywhere! No part of the
room--save beneath the bed itself--had escaped the bombardment.

"Mercy on us!" gasped Ruth, and ran to the bed. She lifted a corner of
the counterpane and peered under. A pair of bare heels were revealed and
beyond them--supposedly--was the remainder of Aunt Sarah!

"Aunt Sarah! Aunt Sarah! do come out," begged Ruth.

"The ceilin's fallin', Niece Ruth," croaked the old lady. "This rickety
old shebang is a-fallin' to pieces at last. I allus told your Uncle
Peter it would."

"No, no, Aunt Sarah, it's all right!" cried Ruth. Then she remembered
Neale and knew if she told the story bluntly, Aunt Sarah would never
forgive the boy.

"Do, _do_ come out," she begged, meanwhile scrambling about, herself, to
pick up the crackers. She collected most of them that were whole easily
enough. But some had broken and the pieces had scattered f