I've been away,
and papa will not be home until late, so I am not to wait in the village
for him."

The others looked after her as she drove away.

"Isn't she the sweetest, dearest girl?" cried Gertrude. "And won't it be
hard for her if her father marries again, as every one says he is going
to do? But, after all, it may be a good thing, for then Edith wouldn't
have to do so much for the children. I wonder if she knows about it?
She hasn't breathed a word of it, even to me."

Janet and Willy, the inseparable but ever-fighting pair, came in at the
side door, not very long after Edith went to the village. They found the
house empty and the coast clear, and their active brains immediately set
to work to solve the question of what mischief they could do.

They wandered into the big silent kitchen. The servants were upstairs,
and beyond the buzzing of a fly on the window-pane and the singing of
the kettle on the range perfect quiet reigned.

"Let's go down and see the inkerbaker," suggested Willy.

"All right," returned Janet, affably, and down they pattered as fast as
their sturdy little legs could carry them.

They peered in through the glass front at the eggs, which lay so
peacefully within.

"It must be turrible stupid in there," said Janet, pityingly. "Shouldn't
you think those chickens would be tired of waiting to come out?"

"Yes. We might crack a lot and help 'em out."

"Oh, no. Jack says they won't be ready for two days. But I'll tell you
what we might do. We might see whether it's hot enough for 'em in there.
I guess Jack's forgotten all about 'em. I don't believe he's been near
'em to-day, nor Martha, either."

"How d'yer find out whever it's hot enough?"

"I don't know. Guess you open the door, and put your hand in and feel."

For Janet had never been taught the significance of the thermometer
inside, and knew nothing of the proper means of ventilating the machine.

No sooner said than done. One of the doors was promptly opened, and two
fat hands were thrust into the chamber.

"My goodies, it's hot there!" cried Janet. "We ought to cool it off.
Let's leave the door open and turn down the lamp, and open the cellar
window."

Mounted on an old barrel, Janet, at the risk of her life, struggled in
vain with the window. She chose one that was never used, and it refused
to respond to her efforts. Then she descended, and returned to the
incubator.

"Can't do it," she said. "But I'll tell you what we