AT THE LITTLE BROWN HOUSE

BY RUTH ALBERTA BROWN

Author of "Tabitha at Ivy Hall," "Tabitha's Glory," "Tabitha's Vacation," etc., etc.

THE SAALFIELD PUBLISHING COMPANY
CHICAGO AKRON, OHIO NEW YORK
MADE IN U.S.A.

Copyright, MCMXIII
By THE SAALFIELD PUBLISHING COMPANY

"I should say it sounded like a plain robber story," said Faith bitterly, while Gail sat white-faced and silent with despair.

CONTENTS

CHAPTER I. A MORNING CALLER
CHAPTER II. THE MINISTER'S RECEPTION
CHAPTER III. SHOES AND STRAWBERRIES
CHAPTER IV. LITTLE FLOWER GIRLS
CHAPTER V. SACKCLOTH AND ASHES
CHAPTER VI. THANKSGIVING DAY AT THE BROWN HOUSE
CHAPTER VII. PEACE SURPRISES THE LADIES' AID
CHAPTER VIII. A MYSTERIOUS SANTA CLAUS
CHAPTER IX. FAITH'S AWAKENING
CHAPTER X. COMPANY FOR SUPPER
CHAPTER XI. GARDENS AND GOPHERS
CHAPTER XII. THE RASPBERRY PATCH
CHAPTER XIII. PEACE GETS EVEN
CHAPTER XIV. PEACE, THE GOOD SAMARITAN
CHAPTER XV. PEACE COLLECTS DAMAGES
CHAPTER XVI. THE STATE FAIR CAKE
CHAPTER XVII. THE CIRCUS AND THE MISSIONARY
CHAPTER XVIII. THE HAND-ORGAN MAN
CHAPTER XIX. HEARTBREAK
CHAPTER XX. AT THE BROKER'S OFFICE
CHAPTER XXI. SURPRISES

AT THE LITTLE BROWN HOUSE

CHAPTER I

A MORNING CALLER

It was a glorious morning in early June; the dew still hung heavy on each grass blade and leaf, making rainbow tapestries that defy description, as the waking sunbeams stole into the heart of each round drop and nestled there; the fresh, cool air was sweet with the breath of a thousand flowers; a beautiful bird chorus filled the earth with riotous melody as the happy-hearted songsters flitted from tree to tree saying, "Good morning," to their neighbors. Through a mass of rosy clouds in the east, the sun struggled up over the hilltop and smiled down on the sleeping village of Parker as if trying to coax the dreamers to arise and behold the beauties of the dawning day. In the barn-yards of the little farms scattered around about the town roosters were crowing, hens were clucking, cattle lowing, and horses stamping and neighing, eager for their breakfast.

Old Towzer, from his bed on the porch of the little brown house, almost bidden by tall maples and wide-spreading elms, stretched and yawned, perked up his ears, listened intently, then rose stiffly, shook his heavy coat and leisurely descending the steps, circled around the place to see whether anyone was yet astir. The door slammed at the green house on the farm adjoining, from the little red cottage across the fields came the sound of a busy ax, and down by the creek some early riser whistled merrily as he went about his morning work. All this old Towzer heard, and strolling back to his place on the porch, he looked up at the chamber window above him and barked sharply. The drawn curtain flew up with a flirt, a small, tousled head appeared behind the screen, and a childish voice in a loud whisper commanded, "Keep still, you old Towzer! It isn't time to wake Gail yet. We've got to get those flowers and she wouldn't let us if she knew."

A second small face joined the first at the window, followed by still another, all blinking sleepily, but eager with excitement. "Oh, Peace," whispered the oldest of the trio, in an awestruck voice, "isn't it a beau—ti—ful day? I've a notion to call—"

"Don't you dast!" quickly interposed the first speaker. "You know Gail never'd let us go. Just see how wet everything is!"

"Did it rain?" asked the third child, the youngest of them all, critically examining the trees and porch-roof, and then lifting her great, blue eyes to the bluer sky above as if expecting to see her answer there.

"No, goosie, it's just dew, but it must have been awful heavy. Get your clothes on, Allee, or Gail will wake before we are started. Aren't you ready, Cherry?"

"'Most," came the muffled reply from the corner where a struggling tangle of clothes, hands and feet proclaimed that Cherry was hurrying.

"Then come on; we will have to fly. I'll button your dress when we get outside, Allee. Never mind your other shoe, Cherry; you can put it on downstairs. Have you got your basket?" Giving her directions in sharp, imperative whispers, Peace led the way into the hall, leaped onto the banisters, boy-fashion, and slid quickly, quietly to the floor below, where she