pink cheek. And by that time even
Dorothy could think of no further excuses for detaining her.

Down-stairs the preliminary steps to the realization of the romance of a
real wood fire on a real hearth had proved prosaic enough. In the
beginning the fire had frankly sulked, and instead of blazing up
brightly, had emitted clouds of smoke out of all proportion to its size.
Every one was coughing as Peggy came into the room, and handkerchiefs
were busy wiping tears from brimming eyes, so that outwardly the scene
was anything but joyous. But the draught from the open windows finally
stimulated the lazy chimney to greater exertions, and just as Peggy
crossed the threshold, a brave little flame leaped up from the smoking,
smouldering mass, and a cheery crackle made music plainly audible above
the chorus of coughing.

"Lovely!" cried Peggy, and warmed her hands at the blaze as if it had
been midwinter. "As long as I didn't have any of the trouble of making
the fire, I'll brush up the shavings and things."

"I'm not sure but you've got the worst end of it," remarked Priscilla,
casting a dismayed glance about her. "How in the world did shavings get
scattered over this room from one end to the other?"

As no one had anything to offer in explanation, Peggy went to find the
dustpan and was absent for some minutes. By this time the fire was
blazing merrily, and throwing off an amount of heat quite unnecessary
for a mild June evening. Even while the girls were exchanging
congratulations on their success, it was to be noticed that they did not
form a compact circle about the fireplace, but sat in the most remote
corners of the room, and fanned themselves with newspapers.

"It's the strangest thing," announced Peggy returning, "I can't find the
dustpan high or low."

Amy jumped. "Didn't she bring it back?"

"Who? Not Mrs Snooks?"

"Yes, she came when you'd gone to pay Mrs. Cole, and she said she'd send
her little girl back with it in half an hour or so."

"It's certainly strange," said Peggy, giving evidences of exasperation,
"that when we've only one of a thing, that's exactly what Mrs. Snooks
wants to borrow. Of course it's nice for neighbors to help one another
out, especially in a place like this where you are so far from a store.
If it was baking-powder, I wouldn't say a word. But a dustpan."

"It was baking-powder yesterday," suggested Amy. "Sweep the shavings
into a corner, Peg, and let's start on the stories. Now, Au