together, as Dorry's hollow tones echoed from the dark corners of the
loft. It was too much for Philly, however. At the close of the piece he
was found to be in tears.

"I don't want to st-a-a-y up here and be groaned at," he sobbed.

"There, you bad boy!" cried Katy, all the more angry because she was
conscious of having enjoyed it herself, "that's what you do with your
horrid hymns, frightening us to death and making Phil cry!" And she gave
Dorry a little shake. He began to whimper, and as Phil was still
sobbing, and Johnnie had begun to sob too, out of sympathy with the
others, the _Feet_ in the Loft seemed likely to come to a sad end.

"I'm goin' to tell Aunt Izzie that I don't like you," declared Dorry,
putting one leg through the opening in the floor.

"No, you aren't," said Katy, seizing him, "you are going to stay,
because _now_ we are going to have the Feast! Do stop, Phil; and
Johnnie, don't be a goose, but come and pass round the cookies."

The word "Feast" produced a speedy effect on the spirits of the party.
Phil cheered at once, and Dorry changed his mind about going. The black
bottle was solemnly set in the midst, and the cookies were handed about
by Johnnie, who was now all smiles. The cookies had scalloped edges and
caraway seeds inside, and were very nice. There were two apiece; and as
the last was finished, Katy put her hand in her pocket, and amid great
applause, produced the crowning addition to the repast--seven long,
brown sticks of cinnamon.

"Isn't it fun?" she said. "Debby was real good-natured to-day, and let