and we'd rather come inside now and see you."

"Thank you, I hope you will come, and you must excuse poor Mary; she
is not so ill-natured as she seems."

"Aunt Zelie," said Carl that evening as they were relating the day's
adventures, "Miss Brown is tiptop, she wasn't a bit mad. There is
something about her like you."

"Why, Carl! Her hair is white, and she is not nearly so pretty," cried
Louise.

"Well, goosie, I didn't say she looked like her, did I?"

"She is very nice at any rate, and has lots of things to show us some
time--things she had when she was a little girl. We may go to see her
again, mayn't we, Auntie?" Bess asked.

"Do you think she would like me to go to see her?" Helen inquired.

"Probably she wouldn't mind; we will take you sometime," Louise
replied graciously.

Helen had returned from her drive in a happy frame of mind, for Aunt
Marcia had bought her a charming little card-case, and had ordered
some engraved cards to go in it. Her sisters admired it as much as its
proud owner could desire, and were quite attentive all the evening.

"Mary," said Miss Brown that night, "those are nice children; and just
think! I already know _four_ of my neighbors!"

CHAPTER IV.

DORA.

One afternoon, when the interest in the Brown house was still at its
height, and before the children had made the acquaintance of their new
neighbor, a little girl came slowly up the street carrying a
sun-umbrella.

A hush had fallen upon the neighborhood; nobody was to be seen, and
the only sound not made by the birds and insects was the far-away
click and whirr of a lawn-mower.

She had had a long walk and was tired; a carriage-block under the
maple trees offered a pleasant resting place, so, closing her
umbrella, she sat down. She had a pair of frank gray eyes and a smile
that made you feel at once that she was a cheery little person,
accustomed to make the best of things.

"How still it is!" she said to herself. "I wonder if some wicked fairy
has put everybody to sleep? I wish I might go into their houses and
break the spell. And here comes an enchanted prince," she continued,
laughing at the fancy, as a large black cat came across the street in
a leisurely, sleepy way.

The gray eyes seemed to inspire his confidence, for the victim of
enchantment stopped to rub against her dress.

"Pretty old kitty, you are somebody's pet," she said, softly touching
the glossy head.

He could have told her that some