medley of shrill barks, in the midst of which a girl's voice sounded
authoritively--"Quiet, Phil! Pat, I'm ashamed of you! Pudgey, if
you're not good instantly, you shall stay at home to-morrow night!"

A moment later, the owner of the voice appeared at the porch door, "May
I come in, Mrs. Boyd?" she asked.

"Come right in, Miss Shirley. I've a couple of young friends here, I
want you should get acquainted with," Mrs. Boyd cried.

"You ain't had your supper yet, have you, Miss Shirley?" Mr. Boyd asked.

"Father and I had tea out on the lake," Shirley answered, "but I'm
hungry enough again by now, for a slice of Mrs. Boyd's bread and
butter."

And presently, she was seated at the table, chatting away with Paul and
Hilary, as if they were old acquaintances, asking Mr. Boyd various
questions about farm matters and answering Mrs. Boyd's questions
regarding Betsy Todd and her doings, with the most delightful air of
good comradeship imaginable.

"Oh, me!" Pauline pushed hack her chair regretfully, "I simply must
go, it'll be dark before I get home, as it is."

"I reckon it will, deary," Mrs. Boyd agreed, "so I won't urge you to
stay longer. Father, you just whistle to Colin to bring Fanny 'round."

Hilary followed her sister into the bedroom. "You'll be over soon,
Paul?"