``You just do, now!''

I turned to the girl in question, whose
name was Mollie. ``Buck told me to ask
you who Dave Branham was.'' Mollie
wheeled, blushing and angry, but Buck had
darted cackling out the door. ``Oh,'' I
said, and I changed the subject. ``What
time do you get up?''

``Oh, 'bout crack o' day.'' I was tired,
and that was discouraging.

``Do you get up that early every morning?''

``No,'' was the quick answer; ``a
mornin' later.''

A morning later, Mollie got up, each
morning. The Blight laughed.

Pretty soon the two girls were taken into
the next room, which was a long one, with
one bed in one dark corner, one in the
other, and a third bed in the middle. The
feminine members of the family all followed
them out on the porch and watched
them brush their teeth, for they had never
seen tooth-brushes before. They watched
them prepare for bed--and I could hear