"Just see here," replied Jessie, as she stretched out her arm for the pitcher and tilted it expressively, exposing to view a few bare, dry slices of lemon in the bottom. "They'll be sure to come up here, and it's rather shabby not to give them any." "I'd make some more," said Katharine, pensively surveying the ruins of the feast; "but I put our very last lemon into this, and I can't. Maybe they won't care for any, it's so cold," she added, with an air of relief. "I'll tell you, put in some more water, and mix it up pretty well," said Jessie hastily, as she heard Alan calling from below. "It was almost too strong before, so it won't be so bad, and we really ought to treat, I think." Katharine laughed silently, as she obeyed her sister's instructions, while Jessie surveyed the operation with dancing eyes. "Let's see," she said gravely, as she poured out a few drops into a glass. With frowning solemnity she tasted it, then set down the glass with an air of decision. "It's real good truly, Kit. I'll get out some more crackers, and then you call them up. Boys are never very fussy, when it's something to eat; and Polly will like the fun." And as she opened the box and took out a fresh plateful of their dainty crackers, Katharine invited up her guests who came willingly enough, never dreaming of the straits to which their friends' hospitality had put them. "Whose autograph album is this?" exclaimed Polly, pouncing on a flaming red and gold volume that lay on the table. "It belongs to one of the girls up at school," answered Jessie. "Just see here, and here, and here," she continued, turning over the leaves and pointing to several well-known names. "You see, she lives in Boston and her father knows all these people, so she could get them." "How splendid!" And Polly bent over to gaze more closely on the signature of a writer clear to all childish hearts. "I'd give almost anything for that," she sighed. "Which is that?" asked Katharine, leaning over to glance at the page. "Yes, I wouldn't much mind having that one. But, after all, autograph albums are a bore. I used to care for them, years ago, but they are all just alike. I had one friend who wrote the same verse in every album she took, only she changed the name in it. Have some more lemonade, Polly." And she waved the pitcher which was nearly empty for the second time. "No, thank you," answered Polly gratefully; "but it's been ever so good. I haven't had any since last summer, so this tasted better than usual, and I always like it." "I am so glad," responded Katharine heartily, though with a sly glance at her sister. "But I don't think autographs are stupid," said Jessie, returning to the subject of the book in her hand. "I wish I had all these. Why, sometimes they are sold and bring perfectly enormous prices." "I know that," said Katharine; "but they make ever so much fun of the people that ask for them."