ate accordingly. Doris was filled
with amazement. No wonder he was round and rosy.

"Doesn't that child ever eat any more?" asked Mrs. Hollis. "No wonder
she is so slim and peaked. I'd give her some gentian, mother, or
anything that would start her up a little."

Doris turned scarlet.

"She's always well," answered Mrs. Leverett. "She hasn't had a sick day
since she came here. I think she hasn't much color naturally, and her
skin is very fair."

"I do hope she will stay well. I've had such excellent luck with my
children, who certainly do give their keeping credit. I think she's been
housed too much. I'm afraid she won't stand the cold winter very well."

"You can't always go by looks," commented Aunt Priscilla.

After the dinner was cleared away and the dishes washed (all the grown
people helped and made short work of it), the kitchen was straightened,
the chairs being put over in the corner, and the children who were
large enough allowed a game of blindman's buff, Uncle Leverett watching
to see that no untoward accidents happened, and presently allowing
himself to be caught. And, oh, what a scattering and laughing there was
then! His arms were so large that it seemed as if he must sweep
everybody into them, but, strange to relate, no one was caught so
easily. They dodged and tiptoed about and gave little half-giggles and
thrilled with success. He did catch Sam presently, and the boy did not
enjoy it a bit. Not that he minded being blindfolded, but he should have
liked to boast that grandfather could not catch him.

Sam could see under the blinder just the least bit. Doris had on red
morocco boots, and they were barely up to her slim ankles. They were
getting small, so Aunt Elizabeth thought she might take a little good
out of them, as they were by far too light for school wear. Sam was sure
he could tell by them, and he resolved to capture her. But every time he
came near grandfather rushed before her, and he didn't want to catch
back right away, neither did he want Bessy, whose half-shriek betrayed
her whereabouts.

Mrs. Leverett opened the door.

"I think you have made noise enough," she said. People believed in the
old adage then that children should "be seen and not heard," and that
indoors was no place for a racket. "Aunt Priscilla thinks she must go,
but she wants you to sing a little."

This was for Mr. Leverett, but Sam had a very nice boy's voice and felt
proud enough when he lifted it up in chur