ings you ought to do and the things you oughtn't. You
won't always guess right, but if you keep on living you can always guess
again."

"What did those men say?" asked King, who was brooding over the scene in
the post-office.

"Oh! they were pretty mad at first, and I think they were quite ready to
come after you children with tomahawks and war-whoops. But Mr. Fulton
and I patted them fondly on the shoulder, and told them you were
harmless lunatics and they mustn't mind you."

"We're not crazy, Father," said Kitty, who was inclined to be literal.

"No, Kitsie, you're not; and I don't want you to drive me crazy, either.
You're three of the most delightful children I ever met, and whenever I
can pull you out of your scrapes I'm only too glad to do so. I may as
well tell you at once that Mr. Fulton and I fixed up this Imp Society
matter very satisfactorily; and if you don't start in to lay a new
asphalt road, or build a cathedral, I think I can keep up with you."

"How did you fix it, Father?" asked Marjorie, brightening with renewed
interest, as she learned that the trouble was over.

"Oh! I told the gentlemen who were most interested that if they didn't
like the way my children improved this village that they'd better do the
improving themselves. And they said they would."

"Really, Father?"

"Really, King. So now you're all well out of it, and I want you to stay
out. Unless they ask for your assistance, later on; and I doubt if
they'll do that, for between you and me they don't seem to approve of
your methods."

"I think it was dreadful for the children to write those letters," said
Mrs. Maynard. "And I don't think, Ed, that you've quite explained to
them how very wrong it was."

"Perhaps not," said Mr. Maynard, "but can't we leave that part of the
subject till some other time? For my part, I'm quite exhausted scolding
these young reprobates, and I'd like a change to smiles instead of
tears. And somehow I have a growing conviction that they'll never do it
again. Will you, chickabiddies?"

"No, sir!" came in a hearty chorus.

"Of course they won't," said Mrs. Maynard, laughing. "It will be some
other ridiculous freak. But I'll be glad to drop the subject for the
present, too, and have a pleasant half-hour before it's bedtime for
babes."

"And aren't we to be punished?" asked Marjorie, in surprise.

"Not exactly punished," said her father, smiling at her. "I think I
shall give you a severe scolding every