y music.

"We must have a game party next week. The girls like that, and so do
I," candidly observed Gus, whose pleasant parlors were the scene of many
such frolics.

"And so do your sisters and your cousins and your aunts," hummed Ed,
for Gus was often called Admiral because he really did possess three
sisters, two cousins, and four aunts, besides mother and grandmother,
all living in the big house together.

The boys promptly joined in the popular chorus, and other voices all
about the yard took it up, for the "Pinafore" epidemic raged fearfully
in Harmony Village that winter.

"How's business?" asked Gus, when the song ended, for Ed had not
returned to school in the autumn, but had gone into a store in the city.

"Dull; things will look up toward spring, they say. I get on well
enough, but I miss you fellows dreadfully;" and Ed put a hand on the
broad shoulder of each friend, as if he longed to be a school-boy again.

"Better give it up and go to college with me next year," said Frank, who
was preparing for Boston University, while Gus fitted for Harvard.

"No; I've chosen business, and I mean to stick to it, so don't you
unsettle my mind. Have you practised that March?" asked Ed, turning to a
gayer subject, for he had his little troubles, but always looked on the
bright side of things.

"Skating is so good, I don't get much time. Come early, and we'll have a
turn at it."

"I will. Must run home now."

"Pretty cold loafing here."

"Mail is in by this time."

And with these artless excuses the three boys leaped off the posts, as
if one spring moved them, as a group of girls came chattering down the
path. The blue cloud floated away beside Frank, the scarlet feather
marched off with the Admiral, while the fur cap nodded to the gray hat
as two happy faces smiled at each other.

The same thing often happened, for twice a-day the streets were full
of young couples walking to and from school together, smiled at by the
elders, and laughed at by the less susceptible boys and girls, who went
alone or trooped along in noisy groups. The prudent mothers had tried to
stop this guileless custom, but found it very difficult, as the fathers
usually sympathized with their sons, and dismissed the matter with the
comfortable phrase, "Never mind; boys will be boys." "Not forever,"
returned the anxious mammas, seeing the tall lads daily grow more manly,
and the pretty daughters fast learning to look demure when certain na