A howl of laughter stopped her, and Cricket looked dismayed. They always
made so much fun of her when she made one of her constant mistakes in
the use of words.

"She means abnormally," shouted Archie, rolling on the ground.
"Abdominally smart, oh, my!"

"Well, abnormally, if you like it better," returned Cricket, amiably. "I
don't see much difference, anyway. I am going to ask auntie, right away,
about the peanut stand," she continued, changing the subject quickly, as
long experience had taught her to do. Off she ran, returning, jubilant,
in a few moments.

"Auntie says to be sure I may; there, now, Edna; she says I may sell
all the peanuts I like, and on the dock, if I want to, and she'll give
me a pint cup to measure them out with. And since you all make so much
fun of it, I'll keep it all alone, without any partner."

"You might go shares with me," pleaded Archie; but Cricket was resolute.

"If you'd been more polite to me, perhaps I might have. Now I sha'n't. I
don't know that I'll even sell you any."

"But I'll be partner, sha'n't I, Cricket?" asked Eunice, accustomed to
sharing everything with her younger sister.

"You all laughed at me, first about finding the bag, then about the
peanuts," she said, firmly, "and I'm going to be my own partner. If I
take any one it shall be Billy. _He_ never teases."

"But if you put in the capital," urged Archie, "you should have somebody
else to supply the experience."

"All the experience that any of you would supply would be experience in
eating them," Cricket replied, with severity. "Then I'd lose my money
and my peanuts, too. Good-by. I'm going to make my arrangements now."

"If you buy your peanuts of old Simon, at the corner, make him give
them to you wholesale," called Archie after her; and then he departed on
a little private expedition.

Cricket was busy all the rest of the afternoon, getting her
establishment together. First, a little, square table was unearthed in
the garret, and was scrubbed and polished by Cricket's own hands. Then
the old white phaeton umbrella was found and brushed, and a long slit in
one side of the cover mended with stitches of heroic size. This was,
with much painstaking, lashed firmly to the back of the stout, wooden
chair, contributed by the kitchen. All these, old Billy, proud and happy
at being selected as chief aid, took down to the little dock, where she
was to set up business. She decided to invest a capital of fifty cents