y had gone up the nice gravel walk, and aunt Martha
had come to the door, opening her arms as if she wanted to embrace
them all at once.

"Dear little souls," said she, "come right into the house, and let me
take off your things. I've been looking for you these two hours. This
is my little nephew, Lonnie Adams.--Shake hands with the little girls,
my dear."

Lonnie was a fair-haired, sickly little boy, seven years old. The
children very soon felt at ease with him.

It was so pleasant in aunt Martha's shaded parlor, and the children
took such delight in looking at the books and pictures, that they were
all sorry when aunt Louise "got nervous," and thought it was time
they went off somewhere to play.

"Very well," said dear aunt Martha; "they may go all over the house
and grounds, if they like, with Lonnie."

So all over the house and grounds they went in a very few minutes, and
at last came to a stand-still in Bridget's chamber over the kitchen,
tired enough to sit down a while--all but Prudy, who "didn't have any
kind of _tiredness_ about her."

"Look here, Prudy Parlin," said Grace, "you mustn't open that drawer."

"Who owns it?" said Prudy, putting in both hands.

"Why, Bridget does, of course."

"No, she doesn't," said Prudy, "God owns this drawer, and he's willing
I should look into it as long as I'm a mind to."

"Well, I'll tell aunt Louise, you see if I don't. That's the way
little Paddy girls act that steal things."

"I ain't a stealer," cried Prudy. "Now, Gracie Clifford, I saw you
once, and you was a-nippin' cream out of the cream-pot. _You're_ a
Paddy!--O, here's _a ink-stand_!"

"Put it right back," said Susy, "and come away."

"Let me take it," cried Lonnie, seizing it out of Prudy's hand, "I'm
going to put it up at auction. I'm Mr. Nelson, riding horseback," said
he, jumping up on a stand. "I'm ringin' a bell. 'O yes! O yes! O yes!
Auction at two o'clock! Who'll buy my fine, fresh ink?'"

"Please give it to me," cried Grace; "it isn't yours."

"'Fresh ink, red as a lobster!'"

"This minute!" cried Grace.

"'As green as a pea! Who'll bid? Going! Going!'"

"Now, do give it to me, Lonnie," said Susy, climbing into a chair, and
reaching after it; "you ain't fair a bit."

"'Do you say you bid a _bit_? That's a ninepence, ma'am. It's yours;
going, gone for a ninepence. Knocked off to Miss Parlin.'"

Somehow, in "knocking it off," out came the stopper, and over went the
ink on Susy's fair