"I feel as if I never could eat another mouthful as long as I live," Blue Bonnet declared as she rose from the table. "That's just the way I used to feel last summer on the ranch after one of old Gertrudis' meals," Kitty said. Amanda's aunt suggested a run down the lane. Down the lane they ran, laughing and calling; old Shep, stirred from his usual calm, barking and bounding at their heels. It was too dark for a walk, so the girls soon retraced their steps, settling themselves in the parlor for a visit with the family before going to bed. "Do any of you play?" inquired Amanda's aunt, looking toward the odd little piano. "Blue Bonnet does," Kitty announced promptly. "Come, 'little Tommy Tucker must sing for his supper.'" Blue Bonnet went over to the piano. Kitty's remark served as a reminder. She was glad to repay Amanda's aunt for some of her kindness. The piano was sadly out of tune, but it is doubtful if Amanda's relatives would have enjoyed a symphony concert as much as Blue Bonnet's simple ballads--the familiar little airs which she gave unsparingly. After she had quite exhausted her stock, there were clamors for repetition, until Blue Bonnet felt that she had wiped out the debt of the entire "We Are Sevens." Amanda's aunt was found to be quite reasonable about transferring the bed from the back room. Amanda and the small son of the household undertook its removal, Kitty giving orders. "Anybody would think you were going to sleep in it, Kitty, you're so particular," Amanda objected. "Get busy and help some." "I spoke for the big bed," Kitty reminded. "Yes, and it was selfish of you. We're going to draw for the big bed. I told you that before." There was a shout of laughter a minute later when Kitty pulled the short slip for the bed on the floor. Sarah Blake offered to change with her, but the others objected. "You're an obliging dear, Sarah," Kitty said appreciatively, "but I will stay where I'm put. I don't want to take your place." Later in the night Sarah wished that she had. She wondered as she shrank to the edge of the bed and tried to make herself as small as possible, if three persons to a bed on the floor, wouldn't have been preferable to the rail which fell to her lot. It was long past midnight when the last joke was told, the last giggle suppressed. The fun might have gone on indefinitely if, from somewhere in the house, Amanda's uncle's boot hadn't fallen ominously, and Amanda's aunt cleared her throat audibly. Morning found them up with the larks. There was a stroll down the shady lane before breakfast, and afterward, when the dishes were cleared away and the bedrooms restored to proper order, Amanda's uncle insisted upon piling them all in the big farm wagon and taking them to church.