rderly locks, to take off her
gingham apron and put on a fresh dimity frock. She returned to the
office, twisting her hat-ribbon nervously.

"If you please, Miss Farlow," she said appealingly, "Honey-Sweet--my
baby doll, you know--was in the note, too. Mayn't I take her with me?"

Miss Farlow nodded consent and Anne tripped away with Honey-Sweet in her
arms. What a contrast 'Roseland' was to the 'Home' next door! Anne
followed Martha across a great hall with panelled walls and
glass-knobbed mahogany doors and tiger-skin rugs on a well-waxed floor.
Martha led the way up broad, soft-carpeted stairs and turned into a room
at the right. What a charming nursery! It was a large room with three
big windows, which had a cheerful air even on this gray, bleak day. It
had soft, bright-colored rugs and chintz-cushioned wicker chairs. There
was a dado of Mother Goose illustrations on the pink walls. And there
were tables and shelves full of picture-books and toys of all kinds.

Dunlop stood in the middle of the room, frowning, with hands thrust in
his pockets. He had just kicked over a row of wooden soldiers with which
his small brother was playing and the little fellow was crying over
their downfall.

"Martha! thanks be that you've come!" exclaimed the maid in charge.

"Here she is! here she is!" cried Dunlop. "I thought you weren't coming,
girl. You were so slow.--I was just getting ready to begin to scream,"
he warned Martha.

"How do you do, Dunlop?" said Anne, putting out her hand.

"Say 'howdy' and ask your visitor to take off her hat," Martha
suggested.

"You come on and tell me a story," said Dunlop, seizing Anne's hand.

She resisted his effort to drag her to a chair. "I said 'how do you do'
to you. And you haven't said 'how do you do' to me," she reminded her
host. "I want to do and be did polite."

"Aw! come on," persisted Dunlop.

Anne stood silent.

The memory of his former encounter with her stubborn dignity came back
to Dunlop. He said, rather sullenly, "How do you do? and take off your
hat. But I don't know your name."

"My name is Anne Lewis," said his guest. "And this is Honey-Sweet. I
know your name. Martha told me. You are Dunlop Marshall. Your little
brother's name is Arthur. What a soft, curly, white little dog!"

"'At's my Fluffles," explained Arthur.

"Do you know any more stories, Anne Lewis?" inquired Dunlop. "Martha
said she 'spected you didn't."

"Yes, I do."

"How many?"

"O--oh!