Joe Dale was a credit to the family. Although only a boy in his tenth year, he possessed as much manliness as many another well in the teens. He was tall, and of the dark type, while Dorothy was not quite so tall, and had fair hair; so that, in spite of the difference of their ages, Joe was often considered Dorothy's big brother. Roger was just a pretty baby, so plump and with such golden curls! Dorothy had pleaded not to have them cut until his next birthday, but the boys, of course, thought seven years very old for long hair. "Only for a few months more," the sister had coaxed, and, so the curls were kept. Dorothy always arranged them herself, telling fairy stories to conceal the time consumed in making the ringlets. Both boys were to sell papers to-day, for the Bugle was out, and Dorothy had told her brothers of the necessity for extra efforts to help with money matters. "You may go with one of the regular boys," Ralph Willoby instructed them. "He can tell you where you would be likely to get customers. Go into all the stores, of course, and look out for the mill hands, at noon time." "I'll sell Bugles to-day," declared Joe, with that splendid manliness and real earnestness that makes a boy so attractive, especially to his sister. "It takes a boy," Dorothy said proudly, as her brothers left the office, each with his bundle of papers, for, of course, Roger had to have a strap full the same as did Joe. Ralph was glancing over the paper. Evidently he was pleased with its appearance, for his face showed satisfaction. "Is it all right?" Dorothy asked, secretly glad the "getting out" was finished, and that she would not have to write another parade story that day. "First-rate," answered the young man, "and I think your father will be pleased. You had better go home and take him a copy, he may be anxious to see one." "I'll go now," she told Ralph, "and I'll be back about noon, when the boys come in from their routes." Dorothy passed out, and closed the door after her. Ralph went to the far end of the office, to finish folding the papers. Scarcely had he taken one sheet in his hand than he heard something in the hall. A scream! And in Dorothy's voice! Darting past the big press, and making his way to the hall door quickly in spite of the things that barred his path, Ralph pulled open the portal. The girls were in a heap on the steps! Dorothy and Tavia. The young man bent down anxiously. The pair seemed unusually still. "Fainted!" he murmured, trying to lift Dorothy's head. "Is he--go--gone?" whispered Tavia. "We are not hurt. We only made believe!" "Oh!" sighed Dorothy. "I feel as if I were dying! I--I can't breathe!" "Try to get on your feet," commanded Ralph. "The air will revive you!" "There!" gasped Tavia. "There's his hat. I grabbed it when he put the handkerchief, with some stuff on it, to my nose," and the girl held up a gray slouch hat, the kind western men usually wear.