"Yes," he replied, rubbing his chin, "and they have lots of jingle in
'em too; they're just the kind I like."

"Well, I hope they won't get into any mischief up here, that's all I've
got to say. Nobody wants to take children to board anyway, but you can't
always seem to help it."

And then the old lady turned to her knitting again; indeed her fingers
had been flying all the while she talked. Mr. Templeton looked at her
curiously, and wondered if she disliked children.

"I'd as lief have 'em 'round the house as her birds and kittens anyway,"
he reflected; for she kept a magpie, three cats and a canary; and these
pets had not been always agreeable guests at the hotel.

It was now nearly six o'clock, and savory odors from the kitchen mingled
with the balmy breath of the flowers stealing in from the lawn. The
Dunlee party had barely time for hasty toilets when the gong sounded for
dinner. The Templeton dining-room was large and held several tables. The
Dunlees had the longest of these, the one near the west window. There
were twelve plates set, though only nine were needed to-night. The three
extra plates had been placed there for the Hale family, who were
expected to-morrow. Mrs. Dunlee had told the landlord that she would
like the Hales at her table.

"And Bab will sit side o' me," said Lucy. "Oh, won't we be happy?"

As the Dunlees took their seats to-night and looked around the room they
saw a droll sight. The old lady, who had been knitting on the veranda,