play in the loft."

The kittens were soon deposited in the warm kitchen, and the two
girls ran back to the barn for a good play. Marjorie had already
begun to like Molly, though she seemed rather queer at first, but
after they had climbed the ladder to the warm sweet-smelling hay-
loft, they grew better acquainted, and were soon chattering away
like old friends.

Molly was not at all like Stella Martin. Far from being timid, she
was recklessly daring, and very ingenious in the devising of
mischief.

"I'll tell you what, Mopsy," she said, having already adopted
Marjorie's nickname, "let's climb out of the window, that skylight
window, I mean, onto the roof of the barn, and slide down. It's a
lovely long slide."

"We'll slide off!" exclaimed Marjorie, aghast at this proposition.

"Oh, no, we won't; there's a ledge at the edge of the roof, and
your heels catch that, and that stops you. You CAN'T go any
further."

"How do you get back?"

"Why, scramble back up the roof, you know. Come on, it's lots of
fun."

"I don't believe Grandma would like it," said Marjorie, a little