After all, Lucilena didn’t wash the dishes. She had her fill of the refreshments, gave Billy more than was good for him, then sat down and rocked him to sleep, crooning over him, and once in a while taking a dip from the saucer of ice-cream which she kept by her side. At last, becoming sleepy herself, without further concern she bore Billy off to his home, put him, sound asleep, in his crib, and went to bed without a qualm of conscience. So to the girls fell the task of washing the dishes, but they made so merry over it that it brought from the front room the last lingering guests, Doctor and Mrs. Rowe, waiting for their daughter; the Hales, who were to take home some of the “borrowings”; and the Todds, who wanted to talk over matters with the rest. Dr. Rowe was the first to open the kitchen door and peep in. “Here, here, what’s all this fun about?” he exclaimed. “Let me in on it, can’t you?” “Not unless you share the work,” said his daughter saucily. “Glad to do it. Do I wear an apron? Am I to wash or wipe?” “Neither,” Ellen told him. “We are in the thick of it, and may as well finish. Are you willing to make yourself useful in any old way?” “You have but to command me.” “Then you can sort out those punch glasses and put them carefully in that basket; they go back to the Hales, that is, all those with the wall of Tyre decoration; the others belong to Mrs. Todd.” “Be sure you don’t break any, Daddy,” sang out Caro. “You know what to expect from Mrs. Todd, if you do.” “I’m not in the least afraid of Bessie Todd,” the doctor declared emphatically. “I’ve ordered her about too many times in the past not to expect her to stand in awe of me.” “What’s that about Bessie Todd?” asked that person appearing at the door. “I said I wasn’t afraid of you, but that I expected you to be afraid of me,” retorted the doctor. “That day has passed,” replied Mrs. Todd. “Better not be too sure. Wait till you get down with an illness and see if you dare disobey my orders. I wish you’d come here and finish this job. You know better than I do which of these glasses belong in your cupboard.” Mrs. Todd was not unwilling, and the doctor turned to Ellen, saying: “I have an understudy. What shall I do now?” Ellen surveyed the room. “You see that cake over there. You can eat what you can of it, and I will see what can be done with the rest.” “That cake? I’d as soon swallow a bullet. Do you want me to die of acute indigestion? It’s as heavy as lead, girl. Throw it away.” Mrs. Todd left the glasses and came over to regard the cake critically. “It is rather heavy,” she commented, “but the edges might be used in cabinet pudding.” “Then please take it and make the pudding,” cried the doctor, “but I will not be responsible for your death or Jeremy’s. If I have a hurry call from you to-morrow night, I shall know what remedies to bring.” Mrs. Todd laughed. “I was going to invite you to dinner, but now I shall not.”