t of more daylight, and, withdrawing from the barn,
went down the yard talking as busily as if they were a lot of hens
cackling after a successful venture at egg-laying. It had been left to
Charlie to put above the notice, "FAIR," the word "POSTPONED."

"That will prevent any rush till morning, and save folks from being
disappointed," Sid had declared.

In the afternoon every thing was under way, and Aunt Stanshy went out to
see the fair.

"I should never know the place, I must say," remarked Aunt Stanshy, as her
eyes swept the spot. There were several so-called "tables," such as an old
window-blind and a disused shelf propped up by various supports like boxes
and barrels. These tables were covered with pieces of the old curtain, now
doing service for the last time.

"Here is the confectionery table," shouted Juggie. There were now on the
table three pieces of molasses candy made by his grandmother. He had had
twelve to start with, and, as he had sold none, the disposition of the
missing nine pieces was a matter of grave suspicion.

"Here's the toy table!" called out Charlie. He had a few paper dolls and a
few "hand-painted" shells, the decorator being Sid, and prominent on the
table was the cotton image of that friend of the club, Santa Claus.

"Buy a corner-copier stuffed wid candy!" shouted Juggie, holding up a
brown paper tunnel into which he was about dropping a solitary piece of
candy.

The governor had the "harvest table," which was groaning under the weight
of three pears and two papers of seed.

"What's this?" asked Aunt Stanshy, stopping before a discarded
mantel-piece resting on a rabbit-box and a coal-hod. On this "table" were
autumn leaves, sprigs of hemlock, a few ferns, and one chrysanthemum
blossom.

"Thith?" replied Pip, who, like all the others, had put on a "Sunday
smile" to attract customers. "Thith ith a flower table. Will you buy a
flower?"

"If I can see one," said Aunt Stanshy, laughing.

"There," said Pip, triumphantly holding up the lonely chrysanthemum. "One
thent only! Thomething rare!"

"I'll buy it, and here is the cent."

"Cath!" sang out Pip, in tones of command, addressed to a supposed
cash-boy.

No one responded.

"Cath!"

"Why, you are the cash-boy," said the president, "and you bring the money
to me, for I am the cashier."

"I tend a counter," squeaked Pip. A serious misunderstanding as to
positions in the fair here threatened to arise, but it was all averted by