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“Mary Ellen Smith; but my mama calls me May Nell; and she says—she says ‘kid’ is vulgar.” The last words were very shy. Betty, not interested in intricate relationships, tiptoed into the parlor and uncovering the organ, played with one finger “Home Sweet Home.” The wool-embroidered motto on the wall almost wept. Billy organized a real estate syndicate, and sold lots to the Gang, “with or without liability to assessment, as the purchaser prefers.” A Board of Trade was organized to which all promised to defer, except Jimmy, who smiled in disdain. He leased the railroad and did a thriving carrying trade, timber for fencing and warehouses, dirt for filling, and so on; and was fast becoming “the millionaire of the crowd,” when the “Board” met and decided he should cut his tariff in half or leave the syndicate; and as Jimmy was heartily interested in the game, he accepted their decision and no longer smiled at the Board of Trade..

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“Ten? You won’t think of playing with us, then. Ma thought you’d be just our age.” “You’re a plucky kid, all right,” he replied, touched more than he would have admitted. “I won’t hurt the dog if you do as I tell you.” He looked for a cord or rope, but found none, and pulled from his pocket a red handkerchief. “Tie this around his neck; let one end hang down.” “Hello, Billy! You washin’ floors?” There was a sneer in Jimmy’s voice. Mrs. Bennett called. The cats walked leisurely to the hearth, sat down, one on either side, and began to eat, each from his own side of the plate. They were as deliberate and dainty as well-bred children..