rown face in a glow. "Can I, Bell?
There is only one accompanist in the world for me, and I want her for
life. Can I have her, my dear?"

"Oh, Jack!" cried Bell, and another spoon was dropped.

* * * * *

"Children, you are letting that porridge burn!" cried Mrs. Merryweather,
as she hurried into the kitchen a few minutes later.

"Oh, Mammy, I am so sorry!" said Bell, looking up,

"All kind o' smily round the lips,
And teary round the lashes."

"Oh, Mammy, I am so glad!" cried Jack Ferrers; and without more ado he
kissed Mrs. Merryweather. "I like burnt porridge!" said this young
gentleman.

CHAPTER XV.

CONCERNING VARIOUS THINGS

"WHERE are you going, Margaret?" asked Willy.

"Up to the farm. Bell lost one of her knitting-needles, and thought she
might have dropped it there; she is up there now, hunting for it, and
here it was in my tent all the time. Would you like to come with me,
Willy?"

Willy twinkled with pleasure, and fell into step beside her, and the two
walked along the pleasant grassy road through the fields, talking
busily. They had become great friends, and Willy was never tired of
hearing about Basil, who, he declared, "must certainly be a corker."

"I suppose he is, Willy," said Margaret, with resignation. "There seems
nothing else for any nice person to be. Did I tell you how brave he was
when a great savage dog attacked our poor puppies? Oh, you must hear
that."

The recital of Basil's heroism lasted till they reached the farmhouse,
both in a state of high enthusiasm, and Willy filled with ardent
longings for attacks by savage dogs, that he might show qualities equal
to those of the youthful hero. (N. B. Basil, honest, freckled, and
practical, would have been much surprised to hear himself held up as a
youthful embodiment of Bayard and the Cid in one.)

"I'll wait for you out here, Margaret," he said, when they came to the
door. "No, I don't want to come in; they will tell me how I've grown,
and I do get so tired of it. I'll sit on the fence and think; I like to
think."

Margaret nodded sympathetically and went in. The door opened directly
into a wide, sunny kitchen, as bright as sunshine and cleanliness could
make it. An elderly woman was standing before a great wheel, spinning
wool; beside her, Bell, Gertrude, and Peggy stood watching with absorbed
attention. All looked up at Margaret's entrance, and the woman, who had
a kin