in----"

"I should like to know why not? Go on with your story-notes. I'd even
rather hear them than you talking foolishly!"

"Well, I'll have to begin all over again. You was born. Your parents
were respectful--respective--hmm! all right folks though deluged with
poverty. Then they died and left you a little, squallin' baby----"

"Alfy, dear, that's unkind! I don't admit that I ever could be a
squaller!"

Alfaretta raised her big eyes and replied:

"I ain't makin' that up. It's exactly what Mis' Calvert said her own
self. 'Twas why she wouldn't bother raisin' you herself after your Pa
and Ma died and sent you to her. So she turned you into a foundling
orphan and your Father John and Mother Martha brung you up. Then your
old Aunt Betty got acquainted with you an' liked you, and sort of
hankered to get you back again out of the folkses' hands what had took
all the trouble of your growing into a sizable girl. Some other folks
appear to have took a hand in the business of huntin' up your really
truly name; and Ma Babcock she says that Mis' Calvert'd have had to
own up to your bein' her kin after awhile, whether or no; so she just
up and told the whole business; and here you be--a nairess! and so
rich you won't never know old friends again--maybe--though I always
thought you--you--you--Oh! my!"

Alfaretta bowed her head to her knees and began to cry with the same
vigor she brought to every act of her life. But she didn't cry for
long; because Dorothy was promptly down upon the floor, also, and
pulling the weeper's hands from her flushed face, commanded:

"It's my turn. I've a story to tell. It's all about a girl named
Alfaretta Babcock, who was the first friend I ever had 'up-mounting,'
and is going to be my friend all my life unless she chooses otherwise.
This Alfy I'm talking about is one of the truest, bravest girls in the
world. The only trouble is that she gets silly notions into her auburn
head, once in a while, and it takes kisses just like these--and
these--and these--to drive them out. She's going to be a teacher when
she grows up----"

Alfy's tears were dried, her face smiling, as she now interrupted:

"No. I've changed my mind. I'm either going to be a trained nurse or a
singer in an opera. Premer donners, they call 'em."

"Heigho! Why all that?"

Alfaretta dropped her voice to a whisper and cautiously glanced over
her shoulder as she explained:

"Greatorex!"

"Miss Greatorex? What has that poor,