Right in the middle a man came around with ice cream cones and John bought one.

"May I buy one too, Grandfather?" asked Mary Jane.

"Just as you like," said Grandfather. "It's your money." And for the first time she remembered the purse with the two nickels that she had all the time held tightly clutched in her hand! She bought the cone and ate it as she watched the circus—calmly indifferent to the fact that it was leaking onto her pretty pink dress. You simply can't notice everything at a circus!

Finally the great show was over. The last of the Cinderella parade slipped behind the curtains and folks began to hurry home. Grandfather took hold of each child and together they climbed over the seats till they reached the safe ground.

"Shall we look at the animals again?" he asked.

"We might try," said Mary Jane doubtfully, "but my looking don't see!"

"Poor child," said Grandfather as he suddenly realized how tired the little girl must be. "I expect your 'lookers' are tired enough to go home." He picked her up and set her on his shoulder and then, grasping John's hand firmly, he made his way out of the crowd.

"But I can't go home yet!" exclaimed John, when he saw they were leaving the grounds. "I haven't spent all my money!"

"Well, we can't go home with any money left, that's a sure thing!" laughed Grandfather. "What do you want to get?"

"Another ice cream cone," said John, as he spied a man going by with a tray.

"All right," said Grandfather, "do you want one too, Pussy?"

"No, I know what I want, but it isn't here yet," said Mary Jane.

"Where is it?" asked Grandfather.

"At the gate," replied Mary Jane. "I saw it when we came in and I want to buy it for my grandmother 'cause she couldn't come."

"That's a good idea," said Grandfather. "You tell me when we come to it."

Mary Jane pointed out the stand where balloons were sold, and with grandfather's help picked out a fine big red one to take to Grandmother.

Of the drive home Mary Jane remembered not a thing. She had seen and heard so much that she just sat and listened while Grandfather and John talked about everything. She almost went to sleep twice—almost but not quite, because she had to stay awake to hold Grandmother's balloon and keep it from blowing out of the car.

Grandmother was watching for them when they drove into the yard and was delighted with her balloon, said she felt exactly as though she had been to the circus herself.

She tied it to the big glass water pitcher so they could see it all the while they were eating their supper and she thanked Mary Jane many times, for thinking to bring it to her.

"I know what I'm going to do first thing in the morning," said John, as he and Mary Jane climbed upstairs to bed. "I'm going to get out that picture and see if they did everything it said."

"Well, I know they did," said Mary Jane positively, "and they did more too, because they did all the noise; I heard 'em!"



LEARNING TO COOK

John stayed a whole week at Grandfather's and every one of the seven days, he and Mary Jane had a beautiful time. They fed chickens for Grandmother and gathered eggs; they visited the rabbits, carrying with them tit-bits of lettuce so they could the easier make friends with the little creatures; they played with the lamb and watched Mary Jane's ducks and rode in the car with Grandfather and altogether had a wonderful time. But the thing that both Mary Jane and John liked the best—well, anyway, almost the best of all, was playing circus in the barn.

They pretended that the downstairs was the animal tent and that Brindle Bess was the elephant—"she waves her hind tail just like he did his front tail, so that's almost the same," John said—and that the hogs were lions and little pigs, tigers. And they pretended that the loft was the performers' tent and that they were the circus folk. Mary Jane learned to turn a summerset in the hay and she tried to walk a rope but that didn't work very well because the rope came down; evidently it wasn't tied tightly. John stood on his head and did tumbling and was learning to throw three bottles at one time. They tried to do the elephant-eating-his-dinner act with Brindle Bess but she didn't seem to understand (maybe because she hadn't been to the circus herself) and tipped the table over and broke two dishes so they had to give that up.

But finally Cousin Margaret came to take John home and Mary Jane was left without a playfellow.

"No use moping around, Mary Jane," said Grandmother briskly as she saw Mary Jane sitting dolefully and idly on the back steps an hour after John had gone. "Find something to do as you did before John came and you'll feel happier."

"But everything I know to do, needs two to do it," complained Mary Jane. "I don't know any children's things for just one!"

"Listen to the child!" laughed Grandmother, "when she played the whole day long, all by herself and as happy as could be! Well, then, dear," she added kindly, "if you don't know a children's thing to do, how about a grown folks' thing?"

"Oh, Grandmother!" exclaimed the little girl happily, "is there a grown-up folks' thing I can do?"

"I shouldn't wonder," said Grandmother, smiling mysteriously. "I shouldn't wonder a bit."

"But I don't want to sew," said Mary Jane, suddenly wondering if her grandmother might be thinking of that, "I don't feel sew-ish."

"No, it's not sewing," replied Grandmother. "I haven't time for sewing this morning because I'm going to make strawberry jam."

"Then what is it?" asked Mary Jane and she pressed her face up against the screen door in her effort to look inside at her grandmother's work.

"You come in and wash your hands and face—wash them good with soap," said Grandmother, "then bring me one of Grandfather's big handkerchiefs and I'll tell you what it is."

That puzzled Mary Jane and she immediately forgot all about John and her lonesomeness. She hurried to the bathroom and washed her hands and face the very best she knew how. Then she reached into Grandfather's drawer and picked out a handkerchief and took it down to Grandmother.

"Now get me five pins from my basket," said Grandmother.

Mary Jane got the pins in a jiffy and then Grandmother stopped her work and began to unfold and refold the handkerchief.

"What—" began Mary Jane as she watched Grandmother's hands busy folding, "what's it going to be?"

"A cap," replied Grandmother, smiling, "a cap for the cook who's going to get our dinner"; and she set the cap squarely on Mary Jane's head!

"Me? Get dinner? Me? By myself?" exclaimed Mary Jane, "but I don't know how!"

"Oh, yes, you do," laughed Grandmother, "and what you don't know how, you can learn. Do you know what potatoes look like?"

"Why, of course," replied Mary Jane and she giggled at such a funny question for potatoes were her favorite vegetable. "I've seen 'em at home and I've seen 'em in your cellar."

"Sure enough!" said Grandmother, nodding approvingly, "then you'll know what to do. Take that pan over there," and she pointed to the table, "and go into the cellar and pick out six nice smooth potatoes."

Mary Jane did as she was told and she thought it was lots of fun too, to hunt over the bin as she had seen Grandmother do and pick out potatoes that just suited her.

"Now then," said Grandmother when Mary Jane brought up the potatoes, "take that scrubbing brush over there and scrub them clean. Then open the oven door with this holder and lay the potatoes on the shelf to bake."

"Just like I scrub my hands?" asked Mary Jane.

"Just the same," answered Grandmother, "only you don't use soap."

"How about some baked apples?" asked Grandmother as the oven door was shut on the potatoes; and Mary Jane noticed that she said it just as though Mary Jane could do anything or cook anything a body might want.

"They're good, I think," replied Mary Jane.

"So do I," said Grandmother, "and we'll have some. Your Grandfather opened the last box just this morning. You pick out three, Mary Jane, and bring me the apple corer from the drawer and the flat brown bowl from the pantry."

By that time, Mary Jane felt as important as any cook in the land. She washed the apples. Grandmother hadn't said to do that, but Mary Jane was sure it should be done. Then she took the bowl and the corer over to where Grandmother was working with her strawberries.

"Hold the apple so," said Grandmother, showing just how an apple should be cored, "and turn the corer so—see if you can do the next, Mary Jane."

Mary Jane could. Not as quickly as Grandmother had done it, of course, but she did it just the same and set it into the bowl as Grandmother had done.

"Now comes the fun part," said Grandmother; "your mother used to love to fix apples I remember."

"Did she do 'em just like me?" asked Mary Jane.

"Just exactly," said Grandmother. "Get a cup of sugar from the bin; and a teaspoon of cinnamon from that brown box over there and the pat of butter you'll find on the pantry shelf. Mix the sugar and cinnamon together and fill up the holes in the apples with it—there's your spoon, dear."

Grandmother went on with her work and Mary Jane stirred the sugar and cinnamon and filled up the apples—it was lots of fun, she didn't wonder her mother had liked to do it! Then Grandmother showed her how to put a lump of butter on the top of each apple—"just like a hat, Grandmother!" exclaimed Mary Jane delightedly—and set the bowl in the oven by the potatoes.

"Now can you set the table?" asked Grandmother.

"'Deed yes," said Mary Jane proudly; "I do that for Mother."

"I thought so," replied Grandmother. "I won't have to show you about that."

And she didn't. Mary Jane put the silver and the napkins and the pepper and salt and glasses and dishes all just as they should be. And at Grandmother's suggestion she put on a pat of butter and a glass of Grandfather's favorite jelly.

"How's the circus lady?" called Grandfather, who happened to come into the kitchen just then.

"She's gone," cried Mary Jane, "and a cook lady's come to visit you." And she skipped out from the dining-room to show him her cap.

"Well, I like circuses," said Grandfather solemnly, "but I must say that right at this minute I'd rather had a cook lady than a dozen circuses—so there! Who's getting dinner?" he added as he saw Grandmother working away at her jam.

"Mary Jane is," answered Grandmother "and I expected to be through by now to broil the steak—she's everything else ready. But," she added worriedly, "I simply can't stop for ten minutes and I know her potatoes are about done!"

"Is there another handkerchief around here somewhere?" asked Grandfather suddenly.

"In your drawer there's lots," said Mary Jane, but for the life of her she couldn't see what Grandfather meant.

"You get it," he said, and she dashed upstairs on the errand.

"There now," said Grandfather after she handed it to him, "how's that?" Mary Jane laughed and laughed at the funny sight. He had twisted the handkerchief around his head dusting cap style and was bowing to her in a grand fashion. "I guess I can cook too!" he declared, "bring on the steak!"

Mary Jane got the steak out of the ice box and helped him salt and pepper it; then, while he broiled it—yes, he did know how, Mary Jane had thought he was only fooling—she took up the potatoes and apples and got the pitcher of water.

"I tell you what," said Grandfather proudly as they sat down to dinner a minute later, "it's all very well to be a circus lady but personally, I prefer a good cook, Mary Jane, and if you keep on as you've begun, you'll be a good one!"

"I'm going to keep on," said Mary Jane, proudly, "'cause it's more fun than playing."

"Good for you," said Grandfather, "and by the way, Mother, have you told her where she's going to-night?"

"Not a word," said Grandmother, smiling.

"Goody!" cried Mary Jane, clapping her hands happily, "it's a surprise."

"Yes, it is," laughed Grandmother, "you never did it before that's certain. But you have to finish your dinner and then take a good nap—a really for sure enough nap, before you know a single thing about it so it's no use to ask questions. I'll tell you this much though," she added as she saw Mary Jane look a bit disappointed, "you'll wear your best dress and your biggest hair ribbon."

Now what in the world was coming? Mary Jane couldn't think and she went to her nap wondering and wondering and wondering.



THE STRAWBERRY SOCIABLE

It's awfully hard to go to sleep when you're wondering all the time what you're going to do when you wake up. But Mary Jane finally did drop off to sleep—perhaps the fact that Grandmother pulled down the shades helped. However it was, Mary Jane slept soundly and had to be called twice when it was time to get up. She blinked open her eyes and was just trying to guess if Grandfather had gone down to his breakfast when Grandmother called, "do you wear a sash with your best dress, dear?"

That waked her in a jiffy and immediately she remembered about the surprise that was to come and that she was to wear her best dress and biggest ribbon.

"Yes, Grandmother, my pink sash," she answered, and she tossed off the light quilt Grandmother had spread over her and ran into the next room. Grandmother was laying out her own best dress and shoes on her bed. It was the first time Mary Jane had known of her wearing them and she guessed right away that something pretty important must be going on.

"What's the surprise, Grandmother?" she asked eagerly, "can you tell me now?"

"Surely dear," replied Grandmother kindly, "I'd have told you before only I was afraid you'd stay awake and ask questions. To-night is the annual strawberry sociable of the village church and I thought maybe you'd like to go. Your grandfather and I always attend and I think you're old enough to go—especially now, as you've had such a good sleep."

Mary Jane stared at her grandmother as though she didn't understand a word she had said.

"What is it—a strawberry sociable?" she asked.

Grandmother bent down and kissed her. "I forget my little city girl don't know all our ways," she said, smilingly. "A strawberry sociable is our big time of the year. We haven't taken you to our church yet, dear, because your grandfather and I don't go as regularly in the summer as we do in the winter, but maybe you've noticed it as we've driven through the village. The little white church with the steeple and the green blinds?"

"Yes," said Mary Jane, nodding eagerly, "I've seen it. The one with the big yard."

"That's the one," said Grandmother, "and it's that yard we're going to this evening. All our people have fine gardens and a good many of us have berry patches. We save our finest berries and take them to the church to-night for the sociable. The folks who have no berries take cake and in that way every one helps and we raise money. We're trying to get enough for an organ now."

"But how do you get the money?" asked Mary Jane, to whom this was all new.

"We sell the strawberries and cake—ten cents for a dish of fruit with a piece of cake," explained Grandmother. "I expect you never heard of the like before, but I think you'll have a good time all the same. There'll be other little girls there, Frances Westland and Helen Loiter and maybe others; you'll have a beautiful time. Now let's get out your things."

If there was one thing above another that Mary Jane loved to do, it was to dress up in her best clothes. She loved the feel of the soft, fine materials and she liked the crisp hair ribbons and dainty shoes. She was so glad that her mother had let her bring her brand new dress that she had worn to her birthday party and the wide pink hair ribbon and sash that went with it. Grandmother said they would dress before supper as she wanted to be ready to go early for she knew that Mary Jane should not stay late.

It took some time for those two busy ladies to dress. Grandmother wasn't used to hair bows and sashes of course and they went pretty slow. Then likely as not there was a good deal of visiting went along with the dressing for Grandmother and Mary Jane were good company. So it's not much wonder that by the time each had inspected the other and had decided that everything was exactly as it should be. Grandfather called to say that supper time had come. Grandmother and Mary Jane went grandly down the stairs in answer to his call and he stood at the bottom and admired and complimented till Mary Jane had to drop her grand air and giggle, he was so funny.

Grandmother laughed, too, and then bustled out to the kitchen, put on a great big all-over apron and prepared the supper.

"We'll not have a thing but eggs and bread and jam and milk," she announced, "because with all the cake and strawberries you're going to have that's all you should eat—just very plain food. Mary Jane, you slip on this apron and help Grandfather feed the chickens and by that time I'll have supper ready to eat."

When they drove up to the village church an hour later Mary Jane looked upon a yard of hurry and fun such as she had never before seen. Men were fixing lanterns on wires, others were carrying chairs and arranging them around tables underneath the lanterns. Women were fixing great bowls of crimson berries (and oh, how good they did look, Mary Jane thought!) on a long table that stretched across the back of the yard. Other women were unpacking baskets of tempting looking cakes and cutting them up into pieces ready for serving.

Grandmother took one basket of berries out of the back of the car and Grandfather took the other and they walked over to the table, Mary Jane following meekly behind.

"This is my little great granddaughter, Mary Jane Merrill," said Grandmother to the lady in charge, "and as she's never been to a strawberry sociable before, I'm going to look after her till she gets used to things—you've plenty of help here anyway."

"Glad to meet you, Mary Jane," answered the lady and Mary Jane made her prettiest courtesy, "you'll like the sociable better when the lanterns are lighted and the other little girls come. Don't you want to come and eat some cake crumbs now?"

Much as Mary Jane liked cake crumbs, she didn't fancy staying with the strange people when she might be with her grandmother, so she hung back shyly and Grandmother declined the offer for her.

"I think we'll walk around first, thank you, Miss Oliver," said she, "and get our little girl to feeling more at home."

Mary Jane liked the walking around and watching the busy folks at their curious work. And, before she hardly realized it, twilight had set in, men had lighted the gay Japanese lanterns and the yard had become full of jolly people—the strawberry sociable had begun.

Grandfather hunted up Helen Loiter, a pretty little black haired girl and Frances Westland to whom Mary Jane took a fancy at once. She wore a plain little white dress and a big blue hair ribbon and seemed so kind and pleasant to the little stranger. Helen, on the other hand, was dressed in a much trimmed and be-ruffled frock and seemed to feel far too dressed up to be natural.

"I'm going to get you girls your berries," said Grandfather, as he settled them at a table over to one side where they could sit as long as they liked and eat and visit, "and if you want more cake, just let me know."

"Let's hurry and eat this up so he'll get us some more," said Helen. "I've got a dime of my own and if he gets us another dish, that'll make three times!"

"Oh, let's eat slow and talk," said Frances, "no use hurrying, maybe we won't want three dishes. Is your mother here, too, Mary Jane?"

"No," answered Mary Jane, "but my sister's coming next week and my mother's coming before very long after that."

"Why didn't you bring your best dress so you could wear it to-night?" demanded Helen as she took a big bite of berries. "I should think you'd like a pretty dress for tonight!"

"This is my best dress," said Mary Jane in amazement, "it's my very best dress and my best hair ribbon and everything!"

"Well, I don't think it looks like it," said Helen, scornfully, "it hasn't a single ruffle and not one bit of lace! I guess your father must be pretty poor!"

Mary Jane looked at Helen's be-ruffled frock that was trimmed and trimmed with yards of cheap lace and then she looked at her own dress, so plain and neat with only a bit of hand embroidery for its ornament. Then she looked at Frances' dress that was more like her own. And a queer feeling of lonesomeness—a lonesomeness that she hadn't felt since the rainy day so long ago, began to come over her.

But before she had time to think of an answer, Frances spoke up. "Aren't you ashamed of yourself, Helen Loiter! Talking that way to Mrs. Hodges's little girl! I guess folks can dress as they please without asking you! My dress isn't fancy either and my father's got as much money as yours has, so there!"

Mary Jane looked at Frances admiringly and felt much better.

"How old are you?" continued Frances, turning her attention pointedly to Mary Jane.

"I'm five," replied Mary Jane, "how old are you?"

"I'm seven, only I'm not very big for seven so you wouldn't guess it," said Frances, "do you go to school?"

"No, not yet," answer Mary Jane, "but I'm going to some day."

"Of course you are, stupid!" said Helen, "everybody does! Well, I'm bigger'n you are. I'm eight and I'm in second grade! So there!" And she polished out the bottom of her dish with her spoon. "I guess your grandfather's forgotten all about getting us some more cake—I'm going to get some for myself. You two slow pokes can sit around and wait if you want to. I'll not!" And she flounced herself out of her chair and ran over to the cake table.

Left by themselves Frances and Mary Jane compared notes as little girls will. Mary Jane told her about her own home; about her friend Doris and her sister Alice and the birthday party and everything she could think of. And Frances told about her school and her garden—yes, she had one about as big as Mary Jane's—and about her pet calf.

"Father gave it to me when it was only a day old," she said, "and when it's big enough, I'm going to sell it and get money to take music lessons. Won't that be fun?"

Mary Jane thought it would; she looked admiringly at Frances and thought she was quite the most wonderful little girl she had ever met.

When Grandfather came up to them a few minutes later, he had to speak twice so busy were they with their talk. He got them each another dish of berries and then, when they were through eating that, he took them walking around the yard so they could see the lanterns and so that Mary Jane would see and be seen by all his friends. Frances seemed to know every one and that was a great help to Mary Jane who wasn't used to meeting so many people.

All too soon Grandmother announced that it was time to go home. The candles in the lanterns flickered out one by one; the housewives busied themselves with clearing up the remnants of cake and berries; the fathers (and grandfathers) carried baskets back to the cars, lit lights and made ready for the homeward journey.

Frances and Mary Jane told each other good night and Frances promised to come over and see Mary Jane very soon.

"Well, what did you think of the sociable?" asked Grandmother as they spun along home. "I saw you talking with Frances and Helen; did you like your new friends, dear?"

"I liked Frances so much," said Mary Jane, "and she's coming to see me."

Grandmother, who knew Helen much better than Grandfather did, understood in a minute. She slipped her arm around her little granddaughter and pulled her close. "So my little girl learned something as well as had a good time to-night, did she?" she whispered; "she learned how to pick out a friend. I'm glad Frances is coming to see you, dear!"



BURR HOUSES

The week after the strawberry sociable was the busiest one of Mary Jane's visit thus far. Frances came to see her twice and they became better friends each time. The Westlands lived two miles farther from the village than the Hodges did and Frances's father could easily leave her at the Hodges's home when he went into the village and get her again on his return trip. Mary Jane showed her all the interesting things she had found—the pet mice, who were getting tamer and tamer all the time; the ducks, which were losing their pretty babyness by now and were getting almost big enough to look after themselves; the lamb and the pigs and Brindle Bess.

Of course Frances was used to country sights, so she wasn't as much surprised at what she saw as Mary Jane had been when she came from the city. But she was interested and she told Mary Jane many things about the farm creatures and the fun she had had with her own pets.

Then one day Grandfather took Mary Jane to see Frances and Mary Jane had fun every minute of the two hours she was there. The Westlands kept many cows and Mary Jane saw twenty little calves—such gentle, soft-eyed little creatures that were so tame the girls could pet them and feed them all they wanted to. And chickens! Mary Jane had thought her grandmother had a good many but the Westlands had more!

"May we feed them all?" asked Mary Jane eagerly as she saw them.

"I guess Frances would be glad to have you," laughed Mrs. Westland kindly; "she has to do it so much that I'm sure she'll be glad for help at the job."

So the girls went to the bins and gathered great handfuls of corn and oats for the feast. Frances gave a peculiar call which the chickens seemed to know and immediately they came a-running, hundreds of them, so fast that Mary Jane dropped the corn she held and tried to run away.

"They won't hurt you," laughed Frances, "see? I can let them eat right out of my hand!"

Mary Jane looked and thought that if Frances was safe she would be too. So she took some of the grain Frances handed over to her and bent down for them to eat out of her hand too. It wasn't more than a minute before she had lost every trace of fear and could let the biggest rooster gobble up his grain right out of her hand. The girls tried dropping kernels of corn on their shoes and then holding up one foot for the chickens to reach for the grain. And they tossed occasional kernels way to the outside of the feeding group and then giggled to see how quickly the greedy ones whirled around to get all they could.

Then, before it was time to go, Mrs. Westland called them in and gave them each a big glass of rich milk and a plate of fat sugar cookies to eat on the porch. Altogether Mary Jane thought she had the most fun during that visit of any visit she had ever made! And before the little girls separated, Frances had promised to come over to Mary Jane's house very soon.

The day after the call at the Westlands the postman brought a letter from Mrs. Merrill which said that Alice could come to her grandfather's in two days if that would be convenient. Grandfather was very fond of Alice; she had visited there before and he was hoping she would have a nice long stay there this summer. So, as soon as he read the letter he got out his car, took Mary Jane with him and went into the village to telegraph that Alice should come at once.

The next morning Mary Jane helped her grandmother clean the room that Alice was to have—it was just across the hall from Mary Jane's and was so quaint and cozy with its old-fashioned furniture and ruffled white curtains. Then the next day Grandmother made a great jar full of cookies; Mary Jane loved that because Grandmother let her cut out some. They made stars and crescents and squares and some just plain round ones; and Mary Jane put the sugar and nuts over the top, too. Then they made apple pies and berry pies and a tart of each kind for Mary Jane's dinner and supper that day. Mary Jane decided then and there that she was going to be a good cook when she grew up because cooking was about the most fun of anything she had ever tried.

On the morning Alice was to come, Mary Jane got up early; dressed herself as quickly as possible and ran down the stairs. Just in the nick of time she was too, for Grandfather was ready to start to the station.

"Take me, please take me along!" she called as she heard him crank up his car.

"Hello, Pussy; you up?" he answered; "to be sure you may go along. Get your grandmother to give you a big piece of coffee cake to eat on the way and we'll be off."

Grandmother heard what he said and had the coffee cake ready as Mary Jane ran into the kitchen. A wonderful big piece, she cut, all full of sugary, buttery "wells" that Mary Jane liked so much. She wrapped it in a napkin so it wouldn't get Mary Jane's dress sticky with its sweetness, threw a woolen scarf around the little girl's shoulders for the early morning air was cool and waved a good-by as they rode out of the yard.

They reached the station just as the great train pulled in and saw the conductor and porter help Alice down the steps of the car. Mary Jane thought she had never seen any one look so nice in all her life! Grandfather set her out of the auto and she ran as fast as ever she could and threw her arms around her sister. Alice held her tight a minute and then turned to kiss her grandfather.

"So you're here all right, Blunderbuss," said Grandfather heartily, using the nickname he had given her long ago, "and you haven't lost a bit of your hair!" Alice laughed as he looked admiringly at her long golden braids.

"I haven't," she replied teasingly, "but I can't say as much for you!" And she laughed at her grandfather's bald head.

"Such a girl! Such a girl!" exclaimed Grandfather proudly; "now I suppose I'll have to get your trunk and take you home and stand your teasing the rest of the summer!" And in mock dismay he went for the trunk the baggage man had tossed off the train.

That was the beginning of more fun for Mary Jane. First there was the house and farm which must be shown to Alice just as carefully as though she had never seen it before. Then there were all the jolly things that Alice thought of to do—Alice was always thinking up something to do, it seemed. She fixed up a saddle for the lamb and taught Mary Jane to ride. She tied tiny bells on the rabbits so they could be more easily found. She helped Mary Jane take the ducks down to the creek at the end of the pasture and turn them into the water. Mary Jane thought it perfectly wonderful that they should know how to swim—"just as though they had taken regular lessons, Grandfather," she said as she told him about it afterwards. And Alice learned how to make bread—with Mary Jane helping to turn the crank of the bread mixer so she wouldn't feel left out.

On the third day of Alice's visit Frances Westland came over to play and the three little girls went out into the front yard and wondered what they would do.

"I wish we had doll houses here like we have at home," said Mary Jane. "I know Frances would like to play with doll houses."

"But you haven't any here," said Frances practically.

"Maybe we can get some," said Alice thoughtfully; "we ought to be able to find something to make a doll house out of. Let's hunt."

"Where'll we hunt?" asked Mary Jane.

"Let me see," said Alice. She looked around the yard but saw nothing that interested her. She looked across the road to Grandmother's lot and saw all the grasses and brush that flourished there.

"We ought to be able to find something over there," she said; "let's hunt."

So the three little girls scrambled over the fence and roamed through the lot. The lamb was used to a good deal of petting and he supposed, of course, that was what they had come for. So he poked himself into their way at every step.

"No, sir," said Alice, laughing; "we didn't come to play with you to-day! You run along, sir!" She rubbed her hand over his back to push him away and something rough and pricky scratched her. She pulled at his wool and a small brown burr came off in her hand.

"Look! Girls!" she cried suddenly. "If he got this, there must be more in the lot!"

"Of course!" said Frances, looking scornfully at the burr Alice held up for her to see; "there's a million over there—see? They're an awful nuisance, burrs are, even this early in the season."

"They may be a nuisance," laughed Alice, "but I'll venture to say they'll make good doll houses for all that. Here! I'll show you what I think we can do." She ran over to where Frances had pointed out a lot of burrs, pulled off a handful and began sticking them together. "Yes, it works," she said in a satisfied tone, "but let's not stop to make the houses here. Let's gather a lot of burrs and take them over to Grandmother's front yard. Then we can make a whole village!"

Frances and Mary Jane didn't quite see how a village was to come out of a lot of burrs, but Alice was so sure of what she was going to do that they thought she must be right. So they gathered up their skirts and filled them with burrs and then helped each other back over the fence.

Under the big pine tree, where the ground was the levelest of any place in the yard, Alice had them spread out all their burrs.

"Now," she said when the burrs were ready, "you make them stick together—so. Make eight rows of six burrs each. That will be the floor of the house. Then start up the sides for walls."

Frances and Mary Jane got the idea in a minute and they set to work in a jiffy. Such fun as it was! The houses and barns and churches grew so rapidly that none of the girls gave a minute's thought to pricked fingers—there wasn't time! When the stock of burrs was entirely used up, Alice set the houses along in a straight line as though they were on a street. Frances put the barns back of the houses where they belonged and Mary Jane ran to her garden for nasturtiums to lay by the houses for gardens.

"But we haven't any dolls to live in the houses!" exclaimed Frances suddenly.

"That's easy," said Alice; "I've made dolls before. Grandmother showed me how years ago. Come on and we'll get some."

She led the girls back to the orchard, where by now tiny green apples were lying on the ground, scattered there by the summer winds.

"You girls get all the apples you can while I get the toothpicks." And she ran to the house.

"What does she mean?" asked Frances, who wasn't used to this sort of play.

"I don't know, but let's do what she says and then we'll find out," answered Mary Jane, who had great confidence in this big sister of hers. They filled their skirts with apples of all sizes and hurried back to the front yard where Alice, carrying a box of toothpicks, met them.

"Now we'll all make dolls," said Alice as she spread out the picks. "Use the biggest apples for the body; stick in two toothpicks for arms and two for legs. And a middle-sized apple makes the head. Then take another toothpick and mark out eyes and nose and mouth—so!" And she set up the finished doll for the girls to see.

Frances and Mary Jane picked up apples and went to work too, and first thing they knew there was a doll standing in front of each house. They were just starting on animals, pigs and horses and cows which Alice showed them how to make, when Grandmother came out with a pitcher of lemonade and a basket of cookies. So the burr making turned into a party which lasted till Mr. Westland came tooting along the road and Frances had to go home.



EARNING MONEY

"Now if I only had a camera," said Alice as she and Mary Jane and her grandmother were sitting out on the back porch one morning, shelling peas for dinner, "I'd take a picture of you both. Wouldn't it make a good one?"

Grandmother looked at Mary Jane. The sunshine splattered through the cracks between the vine-covered lattice and shone on her bobbed brown hair, on her pink play dress and on the bright green pea pods in her lap. Mary Jane looked at her grandmother and saw the snow white hair, the kindly face that smiled above the big work apron and the busy hands.

"Wouldn't it, though!" they both exclaimed at exactly the same minute. And then they all three had a good laugh.

"All the same I wish I had a camera," insisted Alice.

"Does your mother think you're old enough to know how to use one?" asked Grandmother.

"Old enough, Grandmother!" exclaimed Mary Jane. "Alice's twelve!" And the way she said twelve showed that she thought twelve was very, very old indeed.

Grandmother smiled and Alice added, "She's willing I should have one, Grandmother, only I must buy it myself. And saving money out of my allowance is slow work. I've a dollar now but I need seventy-five cents more."

"Seems to me you should be able to earn that much," said Grandmother.

"Earn it?" asked Alice. "How?"

"Oh, by some sort of work," answered Grandmother.

"Oh, could I really?" exclaimed Alice delightedly. "What could I do?"

"Could I earn some too?" asked Mary Jane eagerly.

"What do you want money for?" laughed Alice, as though a little girl wouldn't have use for such a thing as money! "You always want to do everything, Mary Jane!"

"Of course she does," said Grandmother comfortably, "and you do too. The thing I'm thinking about is more fun if done by two anyway. But what do you want your money for, dear?" she asked the little girl.

"I want it to get a present for my dear mother," said Mary Jane, "a present that she don't know anything about and that Daddah don't know anything about and that nobody gives me the money for. Can I really truly earn some money?"

"Surely," replied Grandmother. "See those woods, girls?" She pointed across the garden and across the cornfield to the woods about a quarter of a mile away. "In those woods are blackberry bushes, lots of them. And this is about the beginning of the blackberry season. Now if you girls really want to earn some money you may take your little baskets and go berrying. I'll buy all you can pick at ten cents a quart. You ought to easily get your seventy-five cents that way, Alice, for the bushes ate usually loaded with berries."

"But the berries are yours to begin with," objected Alice, who liked to be fair; "we can't sell you something that already belongs to you."

"Of course you can't," replied Grandmother, much pleased with Alice's honesty. "I shouldn't have said 'buy the berries'; I should have said 'pay you for the picking' at ten cents a quart. If I 'bought' the berries of any one I would have to pay fifteen or twenty cents a quart. And if I hired some one to pick them for me as I have some years, I would have to pay ten cents a quart, just as I offered you. So, you see, I promised you no more than you will fairly earn."

"How do you pick berries?" asked Alice.

"There's only one way," laughed Grandmother, much amused at the question. "You touch them and off they come! Just pick them off the bushes and drop them in your basket and the thing is done."

"Let's go now," said Mary Jane eagerly.

"Not now," answered Grandmother, "because it's too near dinner time. Wait till you have your dinner and a little rest of half an hour. Then you can start and pick all afternoon."

By two o'clock the girls had hunted up the berry baskets Grandmother told them to find in the attic (cunning little baskets with long, curving handles they were, too) and, tying on their biggest sun hats, they started out through the garden path.

They crossed the field, climbed the fence into the woods and turned down the wagon road as Grandmother had directed them. And sure enough, there were the berry bushes just as she had said. Bushes that were fairly loaded with shining blackberries that glistened in the afternoon sunshine.



The girls set to work most enthusiastically and by the time Grandfather came to see how they liked their job (for, of course, he had heard all about it at dinner time) they had their baskets nearly full. He walked home with them and helped them measure out their berries with Grandmother's quart measure. Alice had a quart and a half and Mary Jane a full, even quart and Grandmother paid immediately—fifteen cents for Alice and ten cents, a bright new dime, for Mary Jane.

"My, but I do be rich!" exclaimed Mary Jane delightedly. "I can get my dear mother the nicest thing!"

"Of course you can, Pussy," said Grandfather, "and Alice will have her camera in no time. I get the best of all, though," he added with a mysterious nod of his head.

"How do you?" asked both girls at once.

"I get to eat the jam!" replied Grandfather in a comical attempt at a whisper.

"They do too, bless their hearts!" exclaimed Grandmother. They shall eat all they want. I'll make it first thing in the morning."

"And first thing in the morning I mean to get more berries," said Alice. "Let me see—fifteen into seventy-five:—in four more days I'll have enough money to get my camera!" And she danced around gayly, she was so delighted.

"Not quite," laughed Grandfather; "don't be in too big a hurry, Blunderbuss; you have to give the berries a chance to ripen. Better plan to go every other day. You'll get more at a time that way."

"And I'm going, too," put in Mary Jane, "so I can get more money for Mother's present."

"I was thinking about that present while you girls were gone," said Grandmother. "You'd better get that present in the city where the stores are good. Why don't you save it for her Christmas gift? That would be nice."

"But I wanted to give her something when she comes to take me home!" objected Mary Jane, who had set her heart on making her mother a gift, "something that I did."

"That's all right," Grandmother assured her; "give her something then, too. Something you made yourself and save the money you earn till Christmas. How would you like to make her some blackberry jam? She likes blackberry jam and you could make that."

"Could I really?" exclaimed Mary Jane, and she sidled over to where her grandmother was standing.

"How silly!" cried Alice. "You know she can't make jam, Grandmother; she's only five years old. Why, even I don't know how to make jam and I'm twelve!"

"Is that so?" laughed Grandmother, and she slipped her arm around Mary Jane. "Well, what you can do and what Mary Jane can do has no connection. You don't know what she can do. She's going to be a good cook; she's begun already. And if she wants to make a glass of jam for her mother, all by herself, she shall do it, so there! And you can make some, too, if you want to, dear," she added kindly to Alice.

"Thank you, Grandmother," said Alice, "and I'm sorry I spoke so about you, dear," she added to Mary Jane; "go ahead and make your jam, pet, and I'll make Mother something else. I know it would be more fun for you to make it without me. May I make her a cake, Grandmother? Make it the day before she comes?"

Grandmother assured her that she could and they all went in to get supper.

The next morning Mary Jane put on her cooking cap and apron and she and Grandmother went at the jam while Alice and Grandfather rode to the village on an errand.

"Measure out a good big cup full of berries," said Grandmother; "pile it full as it will hold and wash them and put them in this pan."

Mary Jane picked out nice big, juicy berries; that wasn't hard to do because most of the berries were very fine; the girls hadn't picked any other kind. Then she washed them carefully and put them in the pan Grandmother had given her.

"Now measure an even cupful of sugar," said Grandmother, "and pour it over your berries." And Mary Jane went to the sugar bin and did as she was told.

"Now," continued Grandmother, "shake the berries till the sugar's well mixed in and then set the pan on the stove."

While the berries were cooking Grandmother had her hunt out a nice jelly glass, one that the top fitted on firmly; wash and dry it ready for the jelly. Then Mary Jane took a big spoon and Grandmother took a big spoon and they stood by the stove and watched the jam boil. When the bubbles got big, oh, very big, and looked as shining as big glass beads, Grandmother said it was about done and must be tested. She put her spoon in and then, holding it over the pan of jam, let the hot jam drop off.

"Almost done," said Grandmother, with a satisfied nod; "now you try it, Mary Jane."

So Mary Jane dipped her spoon in just as her grandmother had done and again the jam dropped off, this time a little slower and with longer drops. Grandmother told her to put the glass on a chair, on a paper, and by the time she had done that the jam was ready to pour into the glass.

When Alice and Grandfather came home from their errand the glass of jam was all done and was on the table near the window, covered neatly with its tin cover ready to give to Mrs. Merrill when she should come.

"And that won't be so many days now either," said Grandmother. "I declare, how this summer has gone!"



THE PICNIC AT FLATROCK

On the very day that Alice counted out her money and found she had the seventy-five cents she needed for her much wanted camera and that Mary Jane had fifty cents, there came a telegram from Mrs. Merrill saying that she and Mr. Merrill would arrive the next morning for a stay of ten days.

"Now this is something like old times," said Grandmother happily as she and the two girls bustled around making ready for the guests. "Lots of cooking to do and two nice girls to help me do it. Seems like the days when our own girls were here! Mary Jane, you've done plenty of dusting for today; you go and get your grandfather to pick out two nice fat chickens for frys while I teach Alice about making her cake. She's going to have a beauty to show her mother, that's what she is!"

Mary Jane liked doing things with her jolly grandfather, so she skipped out happily and found him in the barn.

"Pick out some frys, should we?" he said. "All right, that suits me, only we'll fool her, Mary Jane; we'll get three! I believe in having enough, I do."

"What we going to do to-morrow, Pussy?" he asked when that job was done.

"Why, we're going to get Mother and Father at the train and then we're coming home."

"Oh, yes, I know that," said Grandfather, "but let's do more than that. Let's have a picnic to celebrate their coming."

"Oh, Grandfather!" exclaimed Mary Jane, "could we?"

"We certainly could," said Grandfather, "and I think it would be a fine thing to do. There's a full moon and we could go about four and come home by moonlight. Let's see what your grandmother and Alice think about it."

Grandmother and Alice were enthusiastic. "I can take my cake!" exclaimed Alice eagerly. "It's a beautiful cake, Grandfather, see?" she said proudly. "It's all done but the frosting and I'm going to put that on as soon as it's cool enough."

"Looks good enough to eat," said Grandfather admiringly, "and I'm sure it will be fine to-morrow."

"And I can take my frys," said Grandmother, planning; "your father loves cold fried chicken, girls," she added, "and maybe your mother will make a bowl of her fine salad to-morrow while I make a custard—yes, Father, that's just what we'll do. We'll have a picnic. Where'll we go?"

"To Flatrock," replied Grandfather, who had decided that point long ago, "and you needn't plan too much fixyness because Mary Jane and I have a surprise."

"Oh, goody!" cried Mary Jane. "What is it?" Everybody laughed at that and Grandfather took the little girl out to the garden to show her what the secret was. But they didn't tell anybody else what it was—I should say not!

It was lucky there was plenty to do that day, and many interesting things to plan for the picnic; for, even so, Mary Jane thought the day would never end—never. She hadn't realized she was so anxious to see her mother till she knew the long separation was so nearly over.

"To-morrow I'll see my mother! To-morrow I'll see my mother! To-morrow I'll see my mother!" she whispered over and over to herself as she went to sleep, and she thought it was the best news she ever told herself.

She was awake and up the first of any one in the house the next morning, and long before Grandfather was ready to start she was out sitting in the automobile.

"Look who thinks she's going to the station!" exclaimed Grandfather. "'Fraid you can't go this time, Pussy; there won't be room."

"Oh, Grandfather!" exclaimed Mary Jane over the big lump that suddenly came into her throat, "I must go to see my mother!" And then she looked at her grandfather and saw the twinkle in his eye. "You're just teasing, aren't you, Grandfather?" she added anxiously.

"Yes, I am, and I ought to be shot for it, so there!" said Grandfather, who, when he saw how eager she was, regretted his hasty teasing. "Surely you can go—we'll start in two minutes."

It wasn't more than a second after her father and mother got off the great train before Mary Jane was held tight in her mother's arms and oh, how good it did feel to be there! "I didn't know how much I did want you," cried Mary Jane, "till you're here!"

Mother replied with a satisfying whisper and another pair of kisses, one on each rosy cheek, and then Father had to have his hug and they started gayly home.

After breakfast Mary Jane showed them all the creatures she had learned to love—from the lamb in the pasture lot to the ducks that now lived down by the creek. Then they went back into the house and Mary Jane gave her mother the glass of jam made all by herself (and you can just guess how proud and happy Mrs. Merrill was over such a gift!) and Alice showed her cake.

"Look's good enough to eat right now," said Mr. Merrill, smacking his lips; "let's have a piece."

"I should say not!" exclaimed Alice; "that's to take to the picnic!"

So then they told all about the plan for the picnic, and Father and Mother were pleased just as everybody had known they would be. And every one set to work at the pleasant preparations.

Mrs. Merrill, Grandmother and Alice stayed in the kitchen, while Mr. Merrill joined Mary Jane and Grandfather in making preparations for the secret. They didn't let any one see a thing of what they were doing and they carefully covered up the big basket that they stowed away in the back of the car.

At three o'clock they were off and with such good company and over fine roads the twenty-five mile ride to Flatrock seemed all too short.

"Now you folks who think you have the eats," said Grandfather as they all got out of the car, "can just fool around any way you like. Mary Jane and I are going to build a fire for the coffee her father and I will be sure to want."

"That's no surprise," laughed Alice; "Grandmother has the coffee in her basket and she told me I could help you make the fire!"

"Isn't that amazing!" teased Grandfather, and Alice knew from the way he talked that she hadn't guessed the secret after all.

Flatrock was a rough, wooded spot, most unusual for that region; and right through the middle of the woods a pretty little creek ran tumbling over some broad, flat rocks. It was by the side of one of these rocks, close by the little stream, that Grandfather started his fire. He pulled two logs together till they formed a big V; then he and Mr. Merrill and the girls gathered wood, twigs and branches and leaves, till they had a big pile between the logs. They set fire to these and soon they had a heap of glowing coals.

"Now," said Grandfather, "I think it's about time for our surprise. Shall we get it, Mary Jane?"

She nodded "yes" and he went to the car, bringing back with him the mysteriously covered basket. "You shall take the cover off, Pussy," he said.

Mary Jane pulled back the cover cloth and there, inside, was a basket full to the brim of—yes, it was—roasting ears! The very first of the season!

"We keep watch of our corn patch, we do," said Grandfather, and he nodded solemnly at Mary Jane, "and now we're going to have something good."

They piled the roasting ears in on the hot coals, then they built another fire over the top of them, and by the time that had burned down the corn was ready to eat.

Grandmother and Mother and Alice unpacked the baskets and they all sat around and enjoyed the feast. Grandmother's fried chicken and crullers and rolls and Alice's fine cake, which was given the place of honor on a rock by itself where it could be seen all the time till they were ready to eat it, were pronounced the best ever.

The moon rose so clear and big and beautiful that it was hard to tell just when day ended and night began. So it was a surprise when Grandfather announced that it was eight o'clock and high time they were starting home. The few scraps, and there weren't very many, were packed neatly into one basket and the party regretfully left the rocks and started for the car.

"Nobody ever comes along this road at this time of night," said Grandfather. "I'll just get the car out into the middle of the road where you can get in easier." So he pulled it away from the fence where he had left it, and ran it out into the middle of the road. "Here, Pussy," he added, "run around on the other side of the car and hand me that basket."

Mary Jane did as she was told and after he had taken the basket from her she waited in the middle of the road, by the car, till he should be ready to help her in.

No one ever knew quite how it happened—it was all so sudden. Perhaps the other driver, too, thought that no one was ever on that road at that time of the evening. Out of the shadows and the moonshine, around the curve of the road, came a roadster moving so fast that before its driver could realize that some one stood in the center of the road, he had hit Mary Jane squarely and had tossed her over the fence on the opposite side of the road.

Grandfather jumped over the fence after her as quickly as he could out of the car, but, quick as he was, Mary Jane's father was quicker. He picked up the little girl, carried her back to her mother and together they ran their hands over her—no bones seemed to be broken; her heart was beating and she was breathing. But just breathing, that was all. She lay in her mother's arms as still and quiet—so still and so quiet that she didn't seem like Mary Jane—the Mary Jane who was always running and talking and lively.

Without more than a half-dozen necessary words Grandfather and Grandmother, Father, Mother and Alice got into the car and Grandfather put on all speed. The one thought in every one's mind was to get to Dr. Smith as quickly as ever they could. Grandfather was thankful for the moonlight that made the way so plain and he drove home the fastest he had ever driven.

And so they came back from the picnic at Flatrock.



HOME AGAIN

"Would you speak to her, doctor?" asked Mrs. Merrill anxiously.

It was eight o'clock the next morning. They had reached home about an hour after they left Flatrock and fortunately had found Dr. Smith at home. He came at once in answer to their telephone call and was there even before they had Mary Jane undressed and put to bed. He examined her carefully and could find no broken bones and no injury, but still Mary Jane slept on, breathing, but so quietly and unnaturally that she didn't seem like herself. Her mother and father had stayed by her all the night long; Grandmother, Grandfather and Alice had with difficulty been sent to bed after midnight and Dr. Smith had stayed most of the time.

But when she still didn't stir the next morning Mrs. Merrill grew more and more anxious.

"I don't know," said the doctor doubtfully; "we might try. You speak to her; your voice would be the best."

Mrs. Merrill bent low over her little girl and whispered, "Mary Jane! Mary Jane! Mother's here!"

No answer, but Mrs. Merrill thought she saw a quiver on the little girl's face, so she tried again.

"Mary Jane! Mary Jane! Mother's here!" she repeated.

"I know," whispered the little girl; "you com'd to-day," and she opened her big blue eyes and looked at her mother.

Mrs. Merrill kissed her rapturously and held her close, and Mary Jane raised her arm enough to pat her mother's shoulder. Then she looked around the room in surprise. "Where's the moon?" she asked.

"The moon?" said Mrs. Merrill, and the laugh she tried to give with her answer sounded very near tears. "The moon went to sleep a long time ago."

"And where's the picnic?" continued Mary Jane wonderingly.

"The picnic was over before you were hurt," said Mrs. Merrill.

Mary Jane stared at her wide eyed for two or three long minutes. "Don't talk to her," whispered Dr. Smith very softly; "let her think it out herself."

So Mrs. Merrill just held her little girl close and waited.

"Oh, I know!" exclaimed Mary Jane as suddenly she remembered it all, "it came around the corner so fast—something big did, and then I'm here!"

"And lucky you are to be here, young lady," said Dr. Smith, coming around to where she could see him. "How do you feel?"

"Hungry," said Mary Jane briefly.

Dr. Smith and Mother laughed so that the others heard them downstairs and came running to hear what the good news could be.

"Is he going to stay for breakfast?" asked Mary Jane as she sat up in bed and pointed to Dr. Smith. "It is breakfast time, isn't it, Grandmother?"

"Bless the child!" exclaimed Grandmother from the doorway, "of course it is! She shall have anything she wants!"

They could hardly believe their eyes—those five who had seen the accident, but it was true. Mary Jane had not been hurt a bit—not more than a half-dozen scratches—only stunned by her fall. She got up in a few minutes, and with her mother's help (and how good it did seem to have her mother there to help) they soon came downstairs to breakfast. Grandmother was so happy and excited that if it hadn't been for the help of Alice, who could always be counted on to be "steady" when there was excitement a-foot, there's no telling what would have happened to that breakfast.

Alice got out the honey and set the extra place for Dr. Smith and cut the melons and brought the eggs to her grandmother. And Grandmother made some of her wonderful griddle cakes and they had a merry feast.

"Aren't you glad that big thing hit me?" asked Mary Jane of Dr. Smith as she passed up her plate for a third (or was it the fourth) helping of cakes, "'cause if it hadn't, you wouldn't have had any of Grandmother's griddle cakes this morning, you wouldn't."

Dr. Smith had to admit that some good comes of everything and that he certainly was glad to get those griddle cakes. "The whole trouble," he added, "was because you didn't take me to the picnic—of course that's not a hint!"

They all laughed at that and promised that he should go to the very next picnic they had—the very next.

How the days did fly after that.

Mary Jane would never have supposed that ten days could go so swiftly. They took long rides in the car; had several fine picnics—with Dr. Smith along whenever he could go; went fishing in the river miles away and spent a day on a farm where threshers were working—a wonderful day the girls thought for it was all new to them.

And finally it came time to pack the trunks and start for home.

Mary Jane had hard work deciding what to put in, just as she had had when she packed to come. She wanted to take all the burr houses and green apple dolls they had made; and the ducks and a lot of corn and apples for Doris. She finally agreed that she would leave out all the other things if she could take one house of burrs and one green apple doll just to show how they were made and then a nice box of red cheeked eating apples to give to her little friend.

It was decided to go home by the day trip. The journey was shorter that way and Alice begged to go at a time when they might eat in the diner. So they took the train at nine in the morning and would reach home in time for dinner that night.

Mary Jane found it very hard to say good-by to Grandmother and Grandfather. She had learned to love them dearly and they had been so good and kind and thoughtful to her she would never, as long as she lived, forget the happy days she had spent with them. But, nice as it was to go away to visit, it was nicer still to be going home. Home to her own dolls and toys and friends and duties—everything that Mary Jane loved—that is, most everything, for it was hard to leave the lamb and the duck now grown so big and interesting and the baby mice—the new baby mice that had come to the barn loft family.

She waved good-by to her Grandmother and Grandfather as long as she could see them—which wasn't very long for the train pulled away so quickly from the little station where the Merrills got on; and then she turned to her mother and said, "now let's talk about something quick."

"Very well," said Mrs. Merrill, "I was just wanting to do that. Let's talk about what you are going to do this winter."

"Do this winter?" exclaimed Mary Jane in surprise, "I'm going to do just like I always do. I'm going to play with my dolls and play with Doris and sometimes with Junior and help you and everything like I do, Mother."

"Think so, dear?" asked Mrs. Merrill, "how old are you?"

"I'm five," answered Mary Jane in surprise.

"Five and a little more than a quarter," corrected Mrs. Merrill, "and seems to me that's big enough to be going to kindergarten. What do you think?"

"Oh, is it, Mother?" exclaimed Mary Jane happily, "am I really big enough?"

"I'm afraid my little girl is growing up," said Mrs. Merrill with half a sigh, "and that she ought to go to school. What do you think, Father?"

"I think she'll like it and that she ought to go," said Mr. Merrill promptly; "suppose we start her the first of October?"

So it was settled that Mary Jane was to go to kindergarten. They made plans and talked till the porter came through the car and called, "First call for luncheon! First call for luncheon! Diner in the rear of the train!" And then they all went through the train to the diner and Mary Jane ate her first meal on the train.

And if you want to know about what Mary Jane did after she got home from her summer trip; and about all the fun and good times she had after she started to kindergarten, you must read—

MARY JANE IN KINDERGARTEN

THE END