"Have you any more raisins to give us, Grandma?" shouted Joel across the
kitchen. "They were terribly hard," he added in his natural voice;
"almost broke our teeth."

"Hey?" called Grandma back again.

"Raisins, Grandma, or peppermints," cried Joel.

"Oh, Joe, for shame!" called Ben.

"I'm going to have the fun of going after them," declared Joel, throwing
down his dough-pat, and wiping his sticky fingers on his apron; "just
like old times--so there!"

"I'll go over and get 'em," said Grandma; "you come along with me,"
looking admiringly up at the tall boy; so the two, Joel laughing and
hopping by her side as if he were five years younger, disappeared, well-
pleased with each other.

"Now I shall take his dough," declared Dick, rushing around the end of
the table to Joel's deserted place.

"No such thing," declared Van, flying out of his chair. "Leave your
hands off, youngster! that's to be mine."

Polly looked up from the little cookies she was cutting with the top of
a tin baking powder box and their eyes met.

"I didn't promise not to have it out with Dicky," said Van stoutly.