as a small measure of retaliation, "remember that, please!
And I don't want you, either!"

"I'm sorry," replied Timothy calmly, and his eyes danced, "because I'm
going to stay. Miss 'Liza asked me. Mandy's going to have hot
biscuit,--I see 'em; and Miss 'Liza'll get me out some of her
strawberry preserves, I know."

Miss Eliza smiled indulgently at this request, and reached down into
her leather pocket for the key to the preserve closet.

"You better make lots of biscuit, Mandy," continued Timothy; "I'm as
hungry as a bear."

Arethusa sniffed disdainfully and, with her red head high in the air,
started off down the passage in the direction of the sitting-room.

"Where are you going?" called Miss Eliza after her.

"To tell Aunt 'Titia I'm sorry I scared her."

"Did you hear me tell you to take off your shoes and go straight to
your room?" Miss Eliza's tone was awful.

Although Arethusa towered a good head and shoulders over Miss Eliza,
she obeyed as meekly as the tiniest child. She returned to the kitchen
to remove her shoes and then went down the side passage to the boxed-in
steps, Miss Eliza surveying her sternly all the while.

As Arethusa passed Timothy on her way out of the kitchen, she leaned
close to him and whispered, "I'll fix you for all this, Timothy Jarvis!
You just wait and see if I don't!"

It was hardly fair to blame Timothy for any of it, but if she had
threatened to "fix" Miss Eliza total annihilation would have followed
immediately. Yet overcharged feelings must be somehow relieved.

With the disappearance of her niece, Miss Eliza took occasion to
apologize to the guest of the evening for any and all of her behaviour,
which might have appeared unseemly. This proceeding so delighted
Timothy he could hardly repress a whoop; for he well knew that nothing
would make Arethusa so furious as to know her aunt had apologized (to
him) for anything she had done.

One of the chief joys of Timothy's existence was teasing Arethusa.

What fun to tell her of this!

CHAPTER V

Miss Eliza presided with gentle dignity at the head of the supper
table. She seemed to shed some of her militant spirit when seated
before the white expanse of table-cloth on her own board. Hospitality
was her passion; nothing so thoroughly delighted her as a "guest in the
home."

Mandy had made floating custard for dessert this evening, and when Miss
Eliza helped it, she helped it with a deprecatory air, as though
des