He was Pinkie’s constant companion, followed her wherever she went, and slept on a mat at her door. Luck and Pluck, though devoted by fits and starts, were not nearly so reliable, often taking runs a whole morning long quite by themselves; but then, unless fox terriers can run until they are tired, they jump about like four-legged electric batteries and make one nervous. Wednesday would be Dorothy’s sixth birthday, so the tea-party was set for that afternoon, and the day before, the two cousins, each carrying her pet doll, walked up and down in the shade of the arbour playhouse, trying to make up their minds whom they would invite and what they should have to eat, for parties were very informal affairs among the little folks, an invitation given a day in advance being considered not only quite sufficient, but particularly desirable by their parents. It takes a very grand affair indeed to withstand long anticipation. “We’ll ask Sophie and Charlie Mayhew and Silvie their dog, of _course_; that’s two people and one dog,” said Pinkie, counting on her fingers. “And Tommy and Anne and all their dogs,” added Dorothy. “Tommy and Jack Waddles,” corrected Pinkie. “Anne is too old, and of course Mr. and Mrs. Waddles are.” “But Waddles loves tea parties and things to eat, and cheers like anything when he even smells five-o’clock tea biscuit,” pleaded Dorothy; but Pinkie’s mind was made up; “He is too greedy,” she said. “At Miss Jule’s dog party he ate nearly a whole box of ‘five-o’clock teas,’ the lovely mixed ones, pink and chocolate and white, and mother has only given me two boxes for the whole party. Of course we shall ask Jessie and Jack Lane, and they’ve got two dogs, Toodles and Blackberry.” “That only makes five people and five dogs,” said Dorothy, unable to deny Waddles’s greed, especially where the crisp tea biscuit, his pet delicacy, were concerned. “Who will be six?” “Miss Letty and Hamlet of course,” replied Pinkie, with the air of one announcing a star attraction. “But she is very, very old,” objected Dorothy, “nearly as old as mamma, and Hamlet is just as old as Mrs. Waddles; I heard Miss Jule say so.” “You disunderstand,” said Pinkie, looking annoyed at having to explain. “You see, if the people who come are nice, there is always somebody old at a party to shampoorone it and see that people don’t eat too much or do too many things they like. Mother is going to take Aunt May to the Golf Club to-morrow, and so Miss Letty is going to shampoorone my tea. She’s lovely for that, Tommy’s had her and Sophie, and she won’t do it a bit hard, and Hamlet is going to be the entertainer and do all his tricks, and Miss Letty says that if we put the samwiches and biscuits in a basket with a handle, he’ll take it in his mouth and pass them round to the other dogs.”