"Church Street first," he answered. "Church Street? I wonder if he's going to do Mother and me a good turn," giggled Dorothy. It proved that he was not, for he passed the Smith cottage and went on until he came to the house in which lived the Misses Clark. Roger was taking care of their furnace, together with his mother's and his Aunt Louise's, in order to earn money for the expenses of the Club, and he had discovered that these old ladies were not very happy in spite of living in a comfortable house and apparently having everything they needed. "These Misses Clark are lonely," he whispered as they gathered before the door. "They think nobody cares for them--and nobody does much, to tell the honest truth. So here's where we sing two songs for them," and without waiting for any possible objections he broke into "The Christmas Ship" which they all knew, and followed it with "Sister Susie's Sewing Shirts for Soldiers." "Not very appropriate, but they'll do," whispered Roger to Dr. Watkins, whose clear tenor supported him. Dorothy's sweet voice soared high, Tom's croak made a heavy background, and the more or less tuneful voices of the others added a hearty body of sound. There was no response from the house except that a corner of an upstairs curtain was drawn aside for an instant. "They probably think they won't find anything left on their front porch when they come down in the morning. They've had Hallowe'en visits before, poor ladies," said Gregory as they tramped away. The next visit was to a different part of the town. Here the girls left two of their bundles which proved to contain apples and cookies. "I don't believe these people ever have a cent they can afford to spend on foolishness like this," Helen explained to Dr. Watkins, "but they aren't the sort of people you can give things to openly, so we thought we'd take this opportunity," and she smiled happily and went on behind Roger's leadership. This time the visit was to the Atwoods, the old couple down by the bridge. Roger had been interested in them for a long time. They were not suffering, for a son supported them, but both were almost crippled with rheumatism and sometimes the old man found the little daily chores about the house hard to do, and often the old woman longed for a little amusement of which she was deprived because she could not go to visit her friends. It was here that Roger's kit came into play. He took from it several hatchets and distributed them to the boys. "We're going to chop the gentleman's kindling and stack up the wood that's lying round here while the girls sing to the old people," he announced. So the plan was carried out. The girls gathered about the doorstep, and, led by Dorothy, sang cradle songs and folk songs and a hymn or two, while the boys toiled away behind the house. Again there was no response. "Probably they've gone to bed," guessed Ethel Brown. "I imagine they're lying awake, though," said Ethel Blue softly.