little taller than Lydia, led the way to the open space between his
home and Lydia's. Then he spun Lydia a brisk ball.

"It's like a shooting star," she cried, spinning back a quick overhand
shot, "but it makes your hands smell like anything."

"Lydia," called her father from the bow window, "it's time to come in."

"All right!" Then aside to Kent, "I'll wait till he calls me twice
more, Kent. Keep them coming."

"Lydia!"

"Yes, Dad. Not so hard, Kent. Don't throw curves, just because I
can't."

"Lydia! I shan't call again."

"Coming, Dad! Good night, Kent. Face tag!"

"Face tag yourself, smarty. Maybe I'll be over, to-morrow, if I ain't
got anything better to do."

Lydia sauntered slowly up to the kitchen steps. "Well, I haven't
anything pleasant at all to look forward to now," she thought. "The
circus parade is over and I've returned the balloon. Gee, yes, there
is too! I didn't eat my cake yet!"

She turned up the lamp in the kitchen and foraged in the cake box,
bringing out the cake Lizzie had saved for her. With this in her hand