in. Willie is the worst little terror that ever went unlicked,
and the twins come next."

"Perhaps you don't understand children," remarked Harlan, with a
patronising air, and more from a desire to disagree with Dick than from
anything else. "I've always liked them."

"If you have," commented Dick, with a knowing chuckle, "you're in a fair
way to get cured of it."

"Tell me about these people," said Harlan, ignoring the speech, and
dominated once more by healthy human curiosity. "Who are they and where do
they come from?"

"They're dwellers from the infernal regions," explained Dick, with an air
of truthfulness, "and they came from there because the old Nick turned 'em
out. They were upsetting things and giving the place a bad name. Mrs.
Holmes says she's Aunt Rebecca's cousin, but nobody knows whether she is
or not. She's come here every Summer since Aunt Rebecca died, and poor old
uncle couldn't help himself. He hinted more than once that he'd enjoy her
absence if she could be moved to make herself scarce, but it had no more
effect than a snowflake would in the place she came from. The most he
could do was to build a wing on the house with a separate kitchen and
dining-room in it, and take his own meals in the library, with the door
bolted.

"Willie is a Winter product and Judson Centre isn't a pleasant place in
the cold months, but the twins were born here, five years ago this Summer.
They came in the night, but didn't make any more trouble then than they
have every day since."

"What would you do?" asked Harlan, after a thoughtful silence, "if you
were in my place?"

"I'd be tickled to death because a kind Providence had married me to
Dorothy instead of to Mrs. Holmes. Poor old Holmes is in his well-earned
grave."

With great dignity, Harlan walked into the house, but Dick, occupied with
his own thoughts, did not guess that his host was offended.

After the first excitement was over, comparative peace settled down upon
the Jack-o'-Lantern. Mrs. Holmes decided the question of where she should
eat, by setting four more places at the table when Mrs. Smithers's back
was turned. Dorothy did not appear at luncheon, and Mrs. Smithers
performed her duties with such pronounced ungraciousness that Elaine felt
as though something was about to explode.

A long sleep, born of nervous exhaustion, came at last to Dorothy's
relief. When she awoke, it was night and the darkness dazed her at first.
She sat up and rubbed