room. Ned and Nat both attempted to poke the same log in the open grate
with the same poker, and the blaze that most unexpectedly shot up at this
interference with a well-regulated fire, attending strictly to its own
affairs, caused both young men to leap quickly back out of reach of a
shower of sparks.

"Whew!" exclaimed Nat, falling over an ottoman that Dorothy had been
lately sitting on, and landing very ungracefully at his mother's feet.
"Mother, I adore you!" he suddenly exclaimed as he found himself in a
suppliant attitude. "Only," he went on ruefully, rubbing his shins, "I did
not intend to adore you quite so hard."

"A three-bagger," joked Ned, for indeed his brother's position over the
"bag" was not unlike that of a baseball player "hugging the base."

"But you were just saying, as I came in," spoke Mrs. White, "something
about Tavia's coming. She has not sent any word--any regrets, or anything
of that sort, has she?"

"Why, no," answered Dorothy, "We were just saying that she might be here
before we know it--"

"Who said that?" demanded Nat, promptly scrambling to his feet.

"_Before_ we know it," repeated Ned, with special emphasis on the
"before."

"However do you bear with them, Doro dear?" asked Mrs. White. "They seem
to grow more unmanageable every day."