s. Think everything growing is common
property. There's one old woman who pretends she doesn't understand me
when I tell her to stop digging in the lawn, and what she digs is
nothing but old roots and weed stuff," and Jennie threw back her
shoulders, assuming an attitude of righteous indignation.

"What kind of looking woman is she?" asked Cleo, thinking, of course,
of the queer woman in the foreign costume.

"She looks like a circus parade," Jennie declared, "but she's no more
circus than I am. It's lots easier to hide mistakes when one pretends
she's foreign and doesn't understand."

"And has she a little girl with her?" questioned Grace. Even Madaline
was interested now.

"Yes, poor child. A half-scared-to-death little thing, that runs like
a bunnie if you speak to her," replied the maid.

"That's just whom we are looking for," declared Cleo. "We saw them the
day we came, and felt that the little girl needed friends. Then at the
Cross Country Run the other day she almost knocked Andy Mack down; she
jumped out so suddenly just as he turned into the last lap. She is
crazy, I think," finished Cleo.

"Then, I'm not going to hunt her," declared Madaline, "crazy folks are
dangerous."

Jennie laughed at their expressed fears. "That child isn't crazy," she
declared, "but it's a wonder she isn't, with that old woman tagging
around. Well, I don't suppose she stole my lettuce, but I'm going to
watch out for people on these grounds after this," and Jennie swung
herself through the double acting door with such energy, the portal
made a swift return trip on its hinges.

"There's some connection between buying roots in the drug store,
digging roots from the lawns, and--maybe she took the lettuce," figured
Cleo.

"Oh, come on," implored Grace. "I'm sure we will find that little
fairy out to-day, and I promise you, Madie, I won't do anything rash.
Come along, there's a dear," and Grace slipped her arms around the girl
who threatened to come down with a fit of lonesomeness. "Come on,
maybe we'll meet Andy's little brother."

"I'll go, not on account of the little brother though," quickly
explained Madaline, to forestall a laugh.

But it was the little brother, Malcolm by name and Mally by adoption,
who "happened to meet" the girls, just under the mountain.

"Where y'u goin'?" he inquired, winding up his kite string, regardless
of the trees between the kite and his hand.

"Hunting," answered Grace. "Want t