hough she had to turn her eyes away from the absurd
appearance of poor Monty's waving legs. Then the legs ceased to wave
and hung limp and inert.

The Master silently pointed toward the door and gathering her girl
guests about her the young hostess led them houseward, remarking:

"That looks funnier than it is and dear Mr. Seth wants us out of the
way. I reckon they'll have to cut that post down for I saw that even
he and Jim together couldn't move it. It's so new and sticky, maybe--I
don't know. Poor Monty!"

"When he kept still, just now, I believe he fainted. I'm terribly
frightened," said Helena Montaigne, laying a trembling hand on Dolly's
shoulder. "It would be so perfectly awful to have your House Party
broken up by a tragedy!"

Mabel began to cry, and the two mountain girls, Molly Martin and Jane,
slipped their arms about her to comfort her, Jane practically
observing:

"It takes a good deal to kill a boy. Ma says they've as many lives as
a cat, and Ma knows. She brought up seven."

"She didn't bring 'em far, then, Jane. They didn't grow to be more
than a dozen years old, ary one of 'em. You're the last one left and
you know it yourself," corrected the too-exact Alfaretta.

"Pooh, Alfy! Don't talk solemn talk now. That Monty boy isn't dead yet
and Janie's a girl. They'll get him out his fix, course, such a lot of
folks around to help. And, Mabel, it wasn't your fault, anyway. He
needn't have let himself get so fat, then he wouldn't have had no
trouble. I could slip in and out them uprights, easy as fallin' off a
log. He must be an awful eater. Fat folks gen'ally are," said Molly
Martin.

Mabel winced and shook off the comforter's embrace. She was "fat"
herself and also "an awful eater," as Dolly could well remember and
had been from the days of their earliest childhood. But the regretful
girl could not stop crying and bitterly blamed herself for wanting
"those horrible grapes. I'll never eat another grape as long as I
live. I shall feel like--like a----"

"Like a dear sensible girl, Mabel Bruce! And don't forget you haven't
eaten any grapes _yet_, here. Of course, it will be all right.
Molly Martin is sensible. Let's just go in and sit awhile in the
library, where cook, Aunt Malinda, was going to put some cake and
lemonade. There'll be a basket of fruit there, too; and we can have
a little music, waiting for the boys to come in," said Dorothy, with
more confidence in her voice than in her heart. Then