"Lucy!" called Bostil, in a loud voice.

She came running in, anxious, almost alarmed.

"Goodness! you made us jump! What on earth is the matter?"

"Lucy, we want to know the date," replied Bostil.

"Date! Did you have to scare Auntie and me out of our wits just for that?"

"Who scared you? This is important, Lucy. What's the date?"

"It's a week to-day since last Tuesday," answered Lucy, sweetly.

"Huh! Then it's Tuesday again," said Bostil, laboriously writing it down.
"Now, what's the date?"

"Don't you remember?"

"Remember? I never knew."

"Dad! . . . Last Tuesday was my birthday--the day you DID NOT give me a
horse!"

"Aw, so it was," rejoined Bostil, confused at her reproach. "An' thet date
was--let's see--April sixth. . . . Then this is April thirteenth. Much
obliged, Lucy. Run back to your aunt now. This hoss talk won't interest you."

Lucy tossed her head. "I'll bet I'll have to straighten out the whole thing."
Then with a laugh she disappeared.