n hand the two girls trudged on to
the next house.

"I believe I'll get up every morning at five o'clock," said Marjorie; "it
is so fresh and green and wet."

"Yes, it's awful wet," said Kitty, looking at her shoes; "but it's a
delicious kind of a wetness. Dew is awful different from rain."

"Yes, isn't it; dew makes you think of fairies and,--"

"And spiders," said Kitty, kicking at one of the spider webs with which
the grass was dotted.

"Well, I think spiders are sort of fairies," said Marjorie, looking
lovingly at the glistening webs; "They must be to weave such silky,
spangly stuff."

"They weave it for the fairies, Mops. They weave it in the night; and
then about sunrise, the fairies come and gather up the silky, spangly
stuff, and take it away to make their dresses out of it. See, they're
most all gone now."

"Pooh! the sun dried them up."

"No, he didn't; the fairies came and took them away. Of course you can't
see the fairies, and that's why people think the sun dries up the webs."
Kitty spoke as one with authority, and into her eyes came the faraway
look that always appeared when her imagination was running riot. For a
really practical child, Kitty had a great deal of imagination, but the
two traits never conflicted.

"This is Molly's window," said Marjorie, dismissing the question of
fairies as they reached Mr. Moss's house.

"Why don't you whistle or call her?" suggested Kitty.

"No, that might wake up her father and mother. And besides, throwing
pebbles is lots more fun. Let's get a handful from the drive. Get both
hands full."

In a moment four little hands were filled with pebbles.

"Wait a minute," said thoughtful Kitty; "let's pick out the biggest ones
and throw them away. Some of these big stones might break a window."

So the girls sat down on the front steps and carefully assorted their
pebbles until at last they had their hands filled with only the tiniest
stones.

"Now the thing is to throw straight," said Marjorie.

"You throw first," said Kitty, "and then I'll follow."

Like a flash, Marjorie's right hand full of pebbles clattered against
Molly's window, and was swiftly followed by a second shower from Kitty's
right hand. Then they shifted the pebbles in their left hand to their
right, and, swish! these pebbles followed the others.

But though the Maynard children were quick, Molly Moss was quicker. At
the first pebbles she flew out of bed and flung up the window, raising