ply offended by this--and shown
that she had taken offence, too--had something new not taken her
attention at the very moment she and Tess were entering the side gate of
the old Corner House premises.

The house was a three story and attic mansion which was set well back
from Main Street, but the side of which was separated from Willow Street
by only a narrow strip of sward. The kitchen was in the wing nearest
this last-named street, and there was a big, half-enclosed side porch,
to which the woodshed was attached, and beyond which was the long grape
arbor.

The length of the old Corner House yard, running parallel with Willow
Street, was much greater than its width. The garden, summer house,
henhouses, and other outbuildings were at the back. The lawn in front
was well shaded, and there were plenty of fruit trees around the house.
Not many dwellings in Milton had as much yard-room as the Stower
homestead.

"Oh my, Tess!" gasped Dot, with deep interest, staring at the porch
stoop. "Who is that--and what's he doing?"

"Dear me!" returned Tess, hesitating at the gate. "That's Seneca
Sprague--the man who wears a linen duster and straw hat all the year
round, and 'most always goes barefooted. He--he isn't just right, they
say, Dot."

"Just right about what?" asked Dot.

"Mercy me, Dot!" exclaimed Tess, exasperated.

"Well, what _is_ he?" asked Dot, with vigor.

"Well--I guess," said Tess, "that he thinks he is a minister. And, I do
declare, I believe he's preaching to Sandyface and her kittens! Listen,
Dot!"

CHAPTER III

BILLY BUMPS' BANQUET

Almost the first thing that would have caught the attention of the
visitor to the old Corner House at almost any time, was the number of
pets that hovered about that kitchen porch. Ruth, with a sigh, sometimes
admitted that she was afraid she supported a menagerie.

Just at this hour--it was approaching noon--Mrs. MacCall, or the girl
who helped her in the kitchen, might be expected to appear at the door
with a plate of scraps or vegetable peelings or a little spare milk or
other delicacy to tempt the appetites of the dumb creatures that
subsisted upon the kindness of the Corner House family.

The birds, of course, got their share. In the winter the old Corner
House was the rendezvous of a chattering throng of snow-buntings and
sparrows and starlings, for the children tied suet and meat-bones to the
branches of the fruit trees, as well as scattered crumbs upo