stock, in the way of groceries on hand. Deep in
the subject of pies and puddings, they forgot other matters, till a
wild whoop outside the window disturbed them, and they beheld Ned and
Luis, painted in startling "Indian fashion," mounted upon a highly
decorated horse, which had never been seen in the Sobrante stables.

"Hi, there, mother! Your money or your life!"

"Money--life!" echoed Luis, clinging to his playmate's waist and
peeping over his shoulder.

The horse was rearing and plunging more dangerously each second, and
both women rushed to the rescue of the imperiled children, who
realized nothing of their danger, but shouted and screamed the louder
the more frantic their steed became. Mrs. Trent caught the bridle, and
Aunt Sally snatched first one, then the other, child from the
creature's back, who, as soon as he was relieved of his yelling
burden, started at a gallop across the garden, ruining its beds and
borders on his way.

"Oh, oh! Children, how could you? Whose horse is that? Where did you
get that paint? How shall I ever make you clean?"

"I'll tend to that part, Gabriella. You just call a boy to fix them
flower beds before the plants wither. Oh, you rascals! You won't
forget this morning's fun in a hurry, I warn you! You've been in John
Benton's paint pots again. Well, you like paint, you shall have it,
and all you want of it too. Red and yeller, green and pink, with a
streak of blue. H'm! You're a tasty lot, ain't you!"

The lads squirmed and twisted, but Aunt Sally's grip merely tightened
upon them so that finally, they ceased struggling and allowed her to
lead them whither she would, which was to the small laundry, that
stood at some slight distance from the house. Here she sternly
regarded each bedaubed, but otherwise nude, little figure, with so
fierce an expression upon her usually pleasant face that the young
miscreants winced, and Ned cried out:

"Quit a-talking eyes at me that way, Aunt Sally Benton! I don't like
it."

"Oh! you don't, eh? Well, what'd you disgrace yourselves this way for,
if 'twasn't to make folks stare? Where's your clothes?"

"I don't know."

"Very well, then I'll help you to remember."

"I won't be whipped! I'll tell my mother!" shrieked Ned, retreating
toward the closed door of the building.

"Won't be whipped, old Aunt Sally!" added Luis, clasping his leader;
whereupon the customary scuffle ensued; for, no matter what their
business in hand, personal contac