know two Dorises."

"Dora?"

"That isn't uncommon, either. I know some Doras."

Peggy was amazed at the size of the acquaintance of this boy who had
come from the city, and she was very envious. She wished she knew all
those Dorothys and Dorises and Doras. She wanted to hear all about each
one of them. But he did not want to take the trouble to tell her about
them.

"Guess again," he said.

"I can't think of any more girls' names beginning with a D, except
Dorcas, in the Bible."

"It isn't Dorcas."

"Delia?"

"No."

"You'll have to tell me; I can't think of another thing."

"Her name is Diana."

"Diana! What a pretty name! Is she pretty?"

"She's all right," the boy said heartily; "only she isn't very strong;
and she has to stay in bed a lot when she is sick, and the cat amused
her. She came and would get on the bed and would curl down by her."

"She would? Mother would never let her go into our bedrooms."

Peggy was beginning to see why Lady Jane liked to live with the Carters.
But she had a pang of jealousy when she thought of that adorable gray
striped pussy, with her soft fur and her greenish eyes, curling down
contentedly and giving her cheerful purr while she was stroked by
another little girl.

"Is she the only sister you've got?" Peggy asked.

"Yes."

"Have you only one brother?"

"That's all. He's older than me. He's some brother," he added proudly.
"He writes poetry."

"Poetry? I write it too," said Peggy; "only mine is just nursery rhymes
to amuse Alice, about bees and hens and things."

"Tom is writing a poem about you."

"About me?" Peggy was deeply interested. "Can you say any of it?"

Christopher became very red and looked confused. "I can't remember it,"
he said.

"You must remember some of it."

She persisted until she wrung from him the confession that he could
remember one line, and she teased and teased him to repeat it until he
said, "All right, if you must hear it, I suppose you must: 'Peggy,
Peggy, long and leggy.' It gets nicer as it goes on, but that's all I
can remember."

Peggy looked down at her long legs thoughtfully. The poem was a distinct
shock. She had never had one written to her before.

"If he's like most boys I guess he's longer and leggier than I am," she
said.

"You are right there, he is."

"I'm glad I have long legs," said Peggy. "They are so useful when you
are climbing trees."

Christopher looked at her with new interest. "Do you like