ss for the next two days, and Tabitha was
deceived into thinking his reformation was genuine and lasting; while
in reality, the young scapegrace was merely studying the unique
situation and plotting how to "get even" with the girl who already had
mastered him twice. A coward at heart, he knew he could not come out
openly and fight her, so he slyly planned little annoyances to hinder
her work and try her patience. Yet so adroitly did he manoeuvre that
Tabitha was some time in finding out the real culprit.

"My brefus food ain't nice," wailed Janie, the third morning of her
cousins' stay.

"Nor mine, either," protested Rosslyn, tasting his critically, and
wrinkling his nose in disgust.

"You've salted it something fierce," said Billiard, winking solemnly at
Toady while Tabitha was busy sampling her dish of porridge.

"It's so salt that sugar doesn't sweeten it," added Susie, making a wry
face at the first mouthful and taking a hasty swallow of water.

Tabitha's mystified face quickly cleared. Seizing the sugar-bowl, she
cautiously tasted its contents, and turning toward Inez, said
accusingly, "You filled it with salt instead of sugar!"

"Then someone put the salt cup in the sugar barrel," cried Inez
indignantly, "'cause I just poured one cupful into the sugar-bowl."

"Well, be more careful the next time," admonished the black-eyed girl,
retreating to the pantry for a fresh supply of sweetening; and
Billiard, elated at the success of his first attempt, determined to try
again.

"What in the world did you put in that salad dressing, Glory?" cried
Tabitha, snatching up her glass of water with eager hands.

"What's the matter with it?" demanded the second cook, whose turn it
was to wait upon the table that day.

"You used ginger 'stead of mustard," scolded Toady, who had a
particular aversion for red hair, and took little pains to conceal it.

Gloriana had her suspicions as to how such an accident could have
happened, but a hurried visit to the pantry disclosed the spice cans in
their proper places, all correctly labelled; so she reluctantly
admitted her mistake, but decided to keep her eyes open.

"There's soap in my glass of water," complained Irene at the next meal.

"Soap!" echoed Mercedes. "I washed those glasses myself, and never
used a bit of soap on them! That's the way mamma told us to wash them."

But the fact still remained that not only was Irene's glass soapy, but
more than half the dishes on