oldest. He's twelve and they call him Jerry. He's a clever boy.
Faith is eleven. She is a regular tomboy but pretty as a
picture, I must say."

"She looks like an angel but she is a holy terror for mischief,
Mrs. Dr. dear," said Susan solemnly. "I was at the manse one
night last week and Mrs. James Millison was there, too. She had
brought them up a dozen eggs and a little pail of milk--a VERY
little pail, Mrs. Dr. dear. Faith took them and whisked down the
cellar with them. Near the bottom of the stairs she caught her
toe and fell the rest of the way, milk and eggs and all. You can
imagine the result, Mrs. Dr. dear. But that child came up
laughing. 'I don't know whether I'm myself or a custard pie,'
she said. And Mrs. James Millison was very angry. She said she
would never take another thing to the manse if it was to be
wasted and destroyed in that fashion."

"Maria Millison never hurt herself taking things to the manse,"
sniffed Miss Cornelia. "She just took them that night as an
excuse for curiosity. But poor Faith is always getting into
scrapes. She is so heedless and impulsive."

"Just like me. I'm going to like your Faith," said Anne
decidedly.

"She is full of spunk--and I do like spunk, Mrs. Dr. dear,"
admitted Susan.

"There's something taking about her," conceded Miss Cornelia.
"You never see her but she's laughing, and somehow it always