arry the thing through to
a triumphant finale, they two alone; for all the others had laughed
themselves out of place and tune, with Monty interspersing the melody by
outrageous cat calls and screechings of "Maria Maouw, come and catch
these Three Blind Mice!"

"Maria! Maria! Pussy, pussy cat Maria--Come to supper!" echoed Leslie,
laughing as he rarely laughed. To him this company of young people was
wholly delightful--except when he felt it his duty to entertain them.
When they were thus willing to entertain him everything was all right.
He had had so few young intimates in his life that each of these
youngsters seemed wonderful to him. Their nonsense and good natured
chaffing of one another kept him amused at all times and was doubly
pleasant to him that night.

For, like Dorothy, he felt oddly forlorn and deserted in this great
beautiful home that was practically his own; and he wished as he had
done before that he might step into that cottage of the Babcock's,
"up-mounting" where Alfaretta belonged and where she said everyone was
as jolly as the day was long. He hadn't liked Alfy at first and he
still rather looked down upon her. She wasn't of his station in life,
she _would_ not see that money made such a great difference, whether
one had it or had not. She was greatly lacking in delicacy of speech,
but she was honest to a fault. Not honester than Dolly, perhaps, but
in another way. She hadn't hesitated to give him one of those generous
"pieces of her mind" with which she regaled anyone she considered at
fault; and the "piece" she had cut for him that day had been:

"Well, Leslie Ford, if bein' rich as Croesus--whoever he was--or havin'
all creation to wait on you can't make you no better 'n a coward--I pity
you. Yes, I do. That was the lowest-down, orneriest trick to hit an old
man like Captain Lem, without givin' him a chance to help himself. Why,
a boy that hadn't a cent, an' never looked to have, couldn't ha' been no
meaner. An' just sayin' 'Forgive me' don't undo that job. Worst is, you
raised a bigger welt on your own insides, on that thing Mr. Winters
calls your conscience, 'n you did on his old head, an' it won't heal so
quick, neither. I sure was ashamed of you, I sure was."

This lecture had been in response to his appeal, as they chanced to
stand together in the cloistered walk, waiting for supper:

"You don't think very badly of me, do you, Alfaretta, for getting so
angry?"

The lad was very unha