o
do business, too. But Mrs. Golden needs our trade most, I guess, so get
these things of her. I've written them down on a paper so you'll not
forget, and as there are a number of them you had better take a basket,
Bunny."

"I will," he said. "Do we have to hurry back, Mother?" he asked.

"Oh, there is no special hurry," his mother answered. "But what did you
want to do? Play another game of ball and break another window?" and she
smiled at Bunny, for she had heard the story. Mr. Morrison's window had
been paid for by all the boys "chipping in," or clubbing together.

"I'm not going to play ball," said Bunny. "But Sue and I might stay with
Mrs. Golden a little while and help her in the store if you weren't in
a hurry."

"No, I'm not in a hurry," Mrs. Brown said. "Help Mrs. Golden all you
can, poor old lady!"

Together Bunny and Sue went around the corner to the little grocery and
notion store. They were talking of what they might do to help the
storekeeper, and they were planning what fun they could have with the
little boat and doll when they reached home again. By this time they
were at the store, but, to their surprise, the front door was closed,
though this was summer, and it generally stood wide open.

And in one corner of the door was a piece of paper on which something
was written. Bunny and Sue saw this notice and they at once guessed that
something had happened.

"Maybe she's gone away with her son Philip to get the leg-legacy!"
exclaimed Bunny.

"Maybe," said Sue. "Go on, Bunny, you can read better'n I can. Read what
it says."

Slowly Bunny read the little notice on the front door. It said:

"_Please come to the side door._"

Wonderingly the children went along the path to the side door, for the
grocery of Mrs. Golden was in an old-fashioned house which had been
built over so she could sell things in it. The side door was almost
closed, but, though open a small crack, Bunny and Sue did not want to
push it open further and go in. Instead they knocked.

"Yes? What is it? Who's there?" called the voice of Mrs. Golden. It was
a weak, quavering old voice.

"We're here," answered the little boy. "Bunny Brown and his sister Sue!"

"Oh, my dears! I'm glad it's you and not Mr. Flynt!" said Mrs. Golden.
"Push the door open and come in. I have such a dreadful headache that I
couldn't keep the store open. I had to come to my room back here and lie
down. I just had to close the store!"

The ch