eet?"

No, Horace had not noticed; it was "Fly, with her little eye," who saw
everything, and made remarks about it.

"O, O," cried Grace, dropping her knife and fork, and patting her
hands softly under the table, "isn't it so nice to be at Willowbrook
again, taking supper together? Doesn't it remind you of pleasant
things, Susy, to eat grandma's cream toast?"

"Reminds me," said Susy, after reflecting, "of jumping on the hay."

"'Minds me of--of--" remarked Flyaway; and there she fell into a brown
study, with her head swaying from side to side.

"I don't know why it is," said Prudy, "but since you spoke, this cream
toast makes me think of the rag-bag. Excuse me for being impolite,
grandma, but where _is_ the rag-bag?"

"In the back room, dear, where it always is; and you may wheel it off
to-morrow."

It had been Mrs. Parlin's custom, once or twice every summer, to allow
the children to take the large, heavy rag-bag to the store, and sell
its contents for little articles, which they divided among themselves.
Sometimes the price of the rags amounted to half or three quarters of
a dollar, and there was a regular carnival of figs, candy, and
fire-crackers.

Horace was so much older now, that he did not fancy the idea of being
seen in the street, trundling a wheelbarrow; but he went on with his
cream toast and made no remark.

CHAPTER VI.

THE RAG-BAG.

Next morning there was a loud call from the three Parlins for the
rag-bag, in which Flyaway joined, though she hardly knew the
difference between a rag-bag and a paper of pins.

"I wish you to understand, girls," said Horace, flourishing his hat,
"that I'm not going to cart round any such trash for you this summer."

"Now, Horace!"

"You know, Gracie, you belong to a Girls' Rights' Society. Do you
suppose I want to interfere with your privileges?"

"Why, Horace Clifford, you wouldn't see your own sister trundling a
wheelbarrow?"

"O, no; I shan't be there," said Horace, coolly; "I shan't see you. I
promised to weed the verbena bed for your aunt Louise. Good by, girls.
Success to the rag-bag!"

"Let's catch him!" cried Susy, darting after her ungallant cousin; but
he ran so fast, and flourished his garden hoe so recklessly, that she
gave up the chase.

"Let him go," said Grace, with a fine-lady air: "who cares about
rag-bags? We've outgrown that sort of thing, you and I, Susy; let the
little girls have our share."

"Yes, to be sure," replied