the rest of the week the children were models of propriety. No one would have dreamed that they had been outlaws so short a time before.

From the star chamber windows Robin and his merry men looked down on the transformation which was taking place in their old domain.

The long grass was cut down, and with it those patches of pepper grass that had seasoned many a feast. The bushes and vines were trimmed, the walk was reddened, the shutters were thrown open. Every day added something to the change, yet, besides the servants, no one had been seen about the house.

Who could their new neighbors be? The subject was discussed morning, noon, and night, till their father said he would have to tell them the story of the man who made a fortune minding his own business. Uncle William, who was there at the time, said that probably the man was too stupid to enjoy his fortune after he made it, and he pretended to be willing to go over and inquire at the door, if Louise would go with him.

"At least we know there can't be any children," said Bess, "for they couldn't stay in the house all the time."

"Please tell us the story about the man, Father," asked little Helen, and couldn't understand why they all laughed.

CHAPTER III.ToC

THE LADY OF THE BROWN HOUSE.

Bang! went the door, and away they rushed, like a small tornado, across the porch, down the walk and over the street.

They seemed to be running away from Helen, for a second after they had vanished behind Mrs. Ford's oleanders she came around the house.

Indignant tears were in her eyes; it was hard not to be wanted, to be thought too little to play with. Bess and Louise had such good times with the boys and she had nothing in the world to do this afternoon. To be sure they had been very gracious all morning, and had even allowed her to listen to a thrilling chapter in the history of the Carletons, but this was too good to last.

At lunch certain signs passed back and forth across the table arousing her curiosity, and afterwards when she found them laughing on the stairs and begged to know what they were going to do, Carl had replied provokingly, "What do you suppose?" and now they had run away with Ikey somewhere. The house was very quiet; Carie was taking her nap, Aunt Zélie dressing to go out. Helen sat down on the top step of the porch and wiped her eyes, saying to herself, "They are just as mean as anything, but I don't care—I'll have a good time too. I think I'll ask Aunt Zélie to let me go with her."

It happened that as the runaways reached the gate Aunt Marcia's coupé turned the corner, and her horrified eyes beheld their flight. When she stepped from her carriage her lips were firmly closed in a manner which indicated that they would be opened presently for somebody's benefit. She was so absorbed that she almost fell over the woebegone little figure on the step.

"You have been crying—what is the matter?" she demanded.

"Oh, Aunt Marcia, I didn't see you—please excuse me," said Helen, whose politeness rarely failed her, rising and putting away her handkerchief. Mrs. Hazeltine saw pretty clearly how matters stood.

"Never mind, my dear," she said; "perhaps you would like to take a drive with me. I am going out to Cousin John's."

Helen was her favorite among the children, because she was quiet and demure, and did not tear and soil her clothes as Bess and Louise did. Helen on her part looked up to Aunt Marcia with deep admiration, and meant to be just like her when she was grown. So she ran off very happily to have her dress changed, while Mrs. Hazeltine waylaid Aunt Zélie as she came downstairs ready for a walk.

"Dear me! the children have been in mischief," was this lady's inward exclamation, for she knew the signs of disapproval, and felt like running away, as she used to do when a child, from Sister Marcia's lectures.

She only sat down on the bottom step, however, and waited.

"How do you do, Zélie? I see you are going out and I shall not detain you for more than a minute. Little Helen is coming to drive with me."

She seated herself in a judicial attitude on one of the high-backed hall chairs.

"I do not wish to interfere," she continued, "But I should like to inquire if you know where the children are this afternoon?"

"I have a general idea," Aunt Zélie replied, slowly putting on her glove and reflecting that it would take more than her sister's powers to be able to say at any given moment exactly where they were.

"I thought you did not know. They are running through the streets, Louise without her hat. It may do for boys, but for little girls I think it disgraceful."

"I told them they might go to the Ford's; they do not play in the street. You must have seen them when they were on their way there, and I do not object to their running."

Mrs. Hazeltine shook her head. "How can you think it proper for Bess and Louise to race with the boys in that fashion? You seem to be conscientious, yet you do not restrain them in the least."

"I own I do not know how to make a difference between girls and boys. Why are they born into the same families if they are not meant to play together? And if they are to be strong and healthy they must be out of doors. I am sorry to seem to set my judgment up against yours, but—"

"You are stubborn, Zélie, like all the Hazeltines. I believe in fresh air as much as you do, but I should send Bess and Louise to walk with Joanna. However, I see it is of no use to talk to you. I should never mention the subject at all if I did not feel a deep interest in the children." Mrs. Hazeltine rose. "Here comes Helen," she said, "so I'll not detain you any longer," and taking her little niece by the hand she sailed away.

Meanwhile the culprits were taking breath on the grass in the Fords' back yard, Ikey hospitably treating his guests to apples and salt.

"I suppose," Bess began, taking a bite of her apple, "that it is rather mean to run away from Helen, but we have been very good to her to-day, haven't we, Louise?"

"Yes, we have; and the more you do for her the more she thinks you ought to do."

"She can't expect to go everywhere we go," said Carl decidedly.

The business on hand this afternoon was nothing more or less than the erection of a telephone which had been constructed by the boys out of fruit cans and pieces of old kid gloves. The main difficulty lay in getting their line across the street, for it was to communicate between Ikey's room and the star chamber. An attempt had been made once before, but the result was such a mortifying failure that their energy and interest flagged for a while.

The trees caused most of the trouble. Their line first caught in one of these at such a distance from the pavement that while they were absorbed in getting it off a gentleman who happened to be passing had his hat suddenly removed. This accident convulsed everybody but Bess, who in great embarrassment tried to explain that it was not intended for a practical joke. Finally it was caught and broken by the angry driver of a market wagon. Carl, who disliked to give anything up, had ever since been trying to think of a plan.

"There must be some way," he said as he lay on his back looking up at the sky.

"I know!" cried Bess, seized with an inspiration; "clothes-props!"

"What about them?" asked Ikey