ustn't, Peter dear. It would o' been
all right if you had done it while Cousin Dink had us, 'cause it would
o' made her so mad, but we mustn't do anything to make Dr. Weston and
dear Mrs. Dexter feel sad, 'cause they're so nice an' good to us.
Another thing--s'posin' you shaved your head an' all of a sudden Mother
came. How would you feel then, mister?"

"I reckon I'd feel pretty bald headed," said Peter. "But Mother ain't
ever comin', Polly. What makes you say that?"

"I keep on a dreamin' 'bout her," answered Polly, wiping away a little
tear that gathered in the corner of her eye. "Last night I dreamed and
dreamed. She was laughing and happy and wasn't cryin' any more."

"Oh! Maybe she knows ol' Cousin Dink is gone off an' lef' us. I reckon
that would make her smile," suggested Peter. "I wisht I could dream
'bout her an' Daddy. One time I did dream 'bout him before we come here
to live but I thought that time he was a p'liceman an' was gonter git
us."

"I reckon poor Daddy is a angel in heaven by now. He'd be a soldier
angel in khaki," mused Polly. "He'd be a awful big handsome angel. If
you could only remember him, Peter! It would be so comfortin' somehow
if you could remember him the way I can,"

"Yes, him an' the vi'lets!"

The children were sitting on a bench under the old box bushes that were
clustered in the corner of the Hathaway garden. Spring had come to
Dorfield. The trees were budding, jonquils and tulips were blooming.
The foolish peaches were sticking out their pink noses forgetful of the
fact that the year before an untimely frost had nipped them in the bud.
But there was no frost in the air on that evening when, after an early,
wholesome tea the Waller children had sought the sweet seclusion of the
box bushes there to talk on the old days.

"I wonder where ol' Cousin Dink is anyhow," ventured Polly.

"I ain't knowin' or carin'. She's a mean ol' bulwhinger wherever she
is." Peter had a funny way of making up names to suit occasions. What a
bulwhinger was Polly did not know but it was a pretty good name for
Dink. "I just hope I ain't ever gonter see her again. I ain't scairt of
her anymore though. Are you, Polly?"

"I ain't 'zactly but I hope she's gone for good--" The word froze on
Polly's lips. She threw her arm around Peter as though to protect him.
Coming along the garden path was none other than the dreaded Dink.

"Get a move on you, you kids," was her greeting. "I have come for you.
I ha