Johnny, remembering some things, was not so
outspoken. "You hadn't any right to listen, Lily
Jennings," he said, with masculine severity.

"I didn't start to listen," said Lily. "I was look-
ing for cones on these trees. Miss Parmalee wanted
us to bring some object of nature into the class, and
I wondered whether I could find a queer Japanese
cone on one of these trees, and then I heard you
boys talking, and I couldn't help listening. You
spoke very loud, and I couldn't give up looking for
that cone. I couldn't find any, and I heard all
about the Simmonses' cats, and I know lots of other
cats that haven't got good homes, and -- I am going
to be in it."

"You AIN'T," declared Arnold Carruth.

"We can't have girls in it," said Johnny the mind-
ful, more politely.

"You've got to have me. You had better have
me, Johnny Trumbull," she added with meaning.

Johnny flinched. It was a species of blackmail,
but what could he do? Suppose Lily told how she
had hidden him -- him, Johnny Trumbull, the cham-
pion of the school -- in that empty baby-carriage!
He would have more to contend against than Arnold
Carruth with socks and curls. He did not think Lily