silence was followed by a rustle of hay, and a dirty face turned over,
and a voice said through a pathetic, apologetic smile: "This old
nicked glassey ain't mine." The two heads nestled together, and four
eyes gazed at the blue sky and the white clouds for a long time. It
was the Perkins boy who spoke: "Say, Piggy, I bet you'd cry, too, if
you was me."

Piggy wormed his arm under the hay around the Perkins boy's neck, as
he asked, "What you goin' to do to-night, Bud?"

"I dunno. Why?" replied Bud.

"Well, I'm comin' out to stay all night. They're goin' to have a party
at our house, and ma said I could."

Bud drew himself up slowly; then threw himself with a quick spring on
top of Piggy, and the two began to wrestle like kittens in the hay.

Even while Piggy Pennington and Bud Perkins were sitting at dusk on
the back-porch steps of the Pennington house, eating turkey-wings
which Mrs. Pennington had given to them, and devouring ham sandwiches
which Piggy had taken from the big platterful in the pantry, looking
the hired girl boldly in the face as he did it, even then the
preparations for the Pennington entertainment were progressing
indoors. The parlor, the sitting-room, and the dining-room, which had
been decorated during the warm afternoon with borrowed palms and with
roses from the neighbor's vines, were being ventilated. Windows were
rising, and doors opening. The velvety air of May was fluttering
everywhere. And there was so much life in it, that when Mrs.
Pennington saw the two boys pass out of the alley gate, she saw the