Aunt Judy threw open the window.

"My dear No. 6," answered she, "yours is the great boundary-line
question about which nations never do agree, but go squabbling on
till some one has to give way first. There is but one plan for
settling it, and that is, for each of you to give up a piece of your
gardens to make a road to run between. Now if you'll both give way
at once, and consent to this, I will come out to you myself, and
leave my fish till the evening. It's much too fine to stay in doors,
I feel; and I can give you all something real to do."

"I'LL give way, I'm sure, Aunt Judy," cried No. 6, quite glad to be
rid of the dispute; "and so will you, won't you, No. 8?" she added,
appealing to that young gentleman, who stood with his pinafore full
of dirty oyster-shells, not quite understanding the meaning of what
was said.

"I'll WHAT?" inquired he.

"Oh, never mind! Only throw the oyster-shells down, and come with
Aunt Judy. It will be much better fun than staying here."

No. 8 lowered his pinafore at the word of command, and dropped the
discarded oyster-shells, one by one--where do you think?--why--right
into the middle of his little garden! an operation which seemed to be
particularly agreeable to him, if one might judge by his face. He
was not sorry either to be relieved from the weight.

"You see, Aunt Judy," continued No. 6 to her sister, who had now