suppose it would matter? I'd walk to a telephone that had Aunt Hope
at the other end of it, if I had to go on one foot!"

"Like Tiny Tim," the Other Girl smiled gently. "But Timmy can walk as
fast as anybody. He makes that little crutch of his do almost
anything but skip."

"Skip! Oh, how I used to skip when I was little! I can remember it as
plain!"

"I don't believe I ever was young. At any rate, I never skipped,"
added the Other Girl thoughtfully.

"Never skipped! Then it's time you did. It's never to late to--skip.
Come on, I'll show you how."

Gayly they went skipping down the stretch of snowy roadway, with
their arms around each other. The crisp air reddened the tips of
their ears and patted their backs approvingly. For once, at any rate,
the Other Girl was young.

At the "store," Glory telephoned to Aunt Hope. It was quite a while
before she could make connections with the private wire, but she
waited patiently.

"Hello!" she called, her voice unnecessarily high-pitched. "I'm Glory.
Is this you, James? Well, tell auntie I got carried by--_carried by!_
What? Yes, I'm all safe. I'm with my fr-- Why, auntie, that's you! I
hear your voice! You ought not to have walked out into the hall! Yes,
I'm just as 'all right' as I can be. I'm going home with Diantha.
What? Oh, yes, I knew you'd feel safe about me, then. I sha'n't tell
Diantha. It would puff her up! Yes, I wore my rubbers. Yes, I've got
my muffler. No, my cold's better. Take care of yourself, auntie;
good-by. Oh, no, wait! You still there, auntie? Well, the reason I
got carried by was because I was so buried up in a problem. Isn't
that funny for Glory? Good-by."

Tiny Tim met them at the door of a little brown house near the
station. His eyes widened with astonishment at sight of Glory. Then
his glance traveled to his sister in evident uneasiness.

"My!" he ejaculated slowly, "I've e't up the last cooky!"

Glory laughed out merrily. "Oh, I'm so glad!" she said, "for I don't
like cookies unless there's a hole in them."

"These had holes. I've e't up the last hole, too."

"Oh, dreadful! But I'll tell you what, Timmie--if you'll let me come
in and stay all night, I'll promise not to eat anything but a slice
of bread and butter. We could cut a hole in that and play it was a
cook--"

"The bread's gone, too. I've e't up--"

"Timothy Leavitt, are you going to let us in?" laughed his sister,
though there were two red spots blooming in her cheeks. Wha