towels, and her afternoon toilet was made. Marjorie laughed to
think that dressing for afternoon meant only putting on a
different kimono, for dresses were not to be thought of with a
sprained ankle.

And then Uncle Steve came in.

Uncle Steve was always like a ray of sunshine, but he seemed
especially bright and cheery just now.

"Well, Midget Mops," he said, "you have cut up a pretty trick,
haven't you? Here, just as I wanted to take you driving, and
walking in the woods, and boating, and fishing, and perhaps
ballooning, and airshipping, and maybe skating, here you go and
get yourself laid up so you can't do anything but eat and sleep!
You're a nice Midget, you are! What's the use of having an Uncle
Steve if you can't play with him?"

"Just you wait," cried Marjorie; "I'm not going to be in bed more
than a few days, and I'm going to stay here all summer. There'll
be plenty of time for your fishing and skating yet."

"But unless I get you pretty soon, I'll pine away with grief. And
everybody out on the farm is lonesome for you. The horses, Ned and
Dick, had made up their minds to take you on long drives along the
mountain roads where the wild flowers bloom. They can't understand
why you don't come out, and they stand in their stalls weeping,
with great tears rolling down their cheeks."

Marjorie laughed gayly at Uncle Steve's foolery, and said: "If