ntercept the sound of their voices. They
might have talked in the same manner at night, after they had gone to
bed, but this was against Mrs. Henry's rules.

One morning Malleville, after lying awake a few minutes, listening to
the birds that were singing in the yard, and wishing that the window
was open so that she could hear them more distinctly, heard Phonny's
voice calling to her.

"Malleville," said he, "are you awake?"

"Yes," said Malleville, "are you?"

"Yes," said Phonny, "I'm awake--but what a cold morning it is!"

It was indeed a cold morning, or at least a very _cool_ one.
This was somewhat remarkable, as it was in the month of June. But the
country about Franconia was cold in winter, and cool in summer. Phonny
and Malleville rose and dressed themselves, and then went down stairs.
They hoped to find a fire in the sitting-room, but there was none.

"How sorry I am," said Phonny. "But hark, I hear a roaring."

"Yes," said Malleville; "it is the oven; they are going to bake."

The back of the oven was so near to the partition wall which formed
one side of the sitting-room, that the sound of the fire could be
heard through it. The mouth of the oven however opened into
another small room connected with the kitchen, which was called the
baking-room. The children went out into the baking-room, to warm
themselves by the oven fire.

"I am very glad that it is a cool day," said Phonny, "for perhaps
mother will let us go to Mary Erskine's. Should not you like to go?"

"Yes," said Malleville, "very much. Where is it?"

The readers who have perused the preceding volumes of this series
will have observed that Mary Bell, who lived with her mother in the
pleasant little farm-house at a short distance from the village, was
always called by her full name, Mary Bell, and not ever, or scarcely
ever, merely Mary. People had acquired the habit of speaking of her in
this way, in order to distinguish her from another Mary who lived with
Mrs. Bell for several years. This other Mary was Mary Erskine. Mary
Erskine did not live now at Mrs. Bell's, but at another house which
was situated nearly two miles from Mrs. Henry's, and the way to it
was by a very wild and unfrequented road. The children were frequently
accustomed to go and make Mary Erskine a visit; but it was so long a
walk that Mrs. Henry never allowed them to go unless on a very cool
day.

At breakfast that morning Phonny asked his mother if that would not be
a