had driven creakingly off down the street, the old lady, with her
head tied in the towel, was seen approaching the fence.

"That's Miss Putnam," whispered Francis.

"Get off that fence!" cried Miss Putnam, brandishing her broom.
"Get off! I'm not going to have my fence broken down by a parcel
of young ones. Go on home, I tell you!"

The children scrambled down and scattered like leaves. Francis,
when he was a safe distance up the street, put out his tongue and
made a face at Miss Putnam. The old lady continued to stand by the
gate and shake her broom threateningly as long as there was a
child in sight.

"The Collins house is rented at last," said Daddy Morrison at the
supper table that night. "I came through there on my way home from
the station, and there was a light in the kitchen window. I wonder
who has taken it?"

"I know, Daddy," answered Louise quickly. "An aunt of Mrs. Collins
has rented it. She is a Miss Putnam and she makes lovely braided
rugs for the art and craft shops in the city. Sue Loftis told me."

"Well, she's cross as--as anything!" struck in Brother severely.
"She chased us all off her fence this morning; didn't she, Betty?"

"Yes, she did," nodded Sister. "And we weren't doing a thing 'cept
watch her move in. Francis Rider stuck out his tongue at her, and
she called him a 'brat.'"