Sister had thrown the
tar and she was so positive in her assertions that finally he asked her
how she could be so sure.

"Well, one of the neighbors told me," Miss Putnam said reluctantly.
"No, I don't know your children from any of the others, but she does.
All children look pretty much alike to me--noisy, scuffling young ones!
No, I couldn't tell you the neighbor's name--I wouldn't want to get her
into any trouble."

When Daddy Morrison went away, she showed him the tar on her porch and
sidewalk.

"Somebody ought to be made to clear it off," said Miss Putnam severely.

The chief of police, at the town hall, was a little angry that a
complaint had been made merely on the word of a neighbor, who might
easily be mistaken about the children she had seen throwing tar.
However, as Brother and Sister said they had nothing to do with it, and
Miss Putnam refused to believe them, there was nothing to do but let
the complaint stand.

"Keep away from Miss Putnam's house and street," commanded Daddy
Morrison at the breakfast table the next morning. "Don't go past her
house except when it is absolutely necessary. We're not going to have
any more bickering over this matter. Your mother and I believe you and
that is all that is necessary. I shall be seriously displeased if I
find you are talking it over with outsiders, especially other children."

Ralph and Dick had already taken their way to the station and now Daddy
Morrison hurried to get his train.

"Why doesn't he want us to talk about it?" asked Sister, puzzled.
"Couldn't I tell Nellie Yarrow?"

"I wouldn't," counseled Mother Morrison. "You see, dear, you can't help
feeling that Miss Putnam has been unfair and every time you tell what
she has done you will make someone else think she is unfair, too. Your
friends will take your part, of course, and while you think Miss Putnam
is decidedly 'mean,' she is acting right, according to her own ideas.
It is never best to talk much about a quarrel of any kind."

Jimmie, who had been eating his breakfast in silence, rose and looked
toward his mother.

"I suppose I have to work in that old garden?" he said aggrievedly.

"You know what your father said," replied Mother Morrison.

Jimmie did not like to weed, and the Morrison garden, when it came his
turn, was often sadly neglected. He and Ralph and Dick were responsible
for the care of the garden two weeks at a time during the growing
season.

"Well, maybe if I stick at it