On Hatty, meanwhile, fell the care of Meg and Harry. Hatty found having Meg in her room by no means so troublesome as she had expected. Meg’s desire to meddle with Hatty’s things, and to put them out of order, seemed to have gone now that she could say “our room.” She even made herself a kind of guardian against Harry’s inroads; and when she heard his little feet pattering that way, she would get in advance of him with her swift skips, and have the door shut before he reached it. Hatty found it quite impossible to keep the children quiet, so she managed to have them in the garden as much as she could, in pleasant weather, that they might not disturb Aunt Barbara. At the foot of the wide walk that led down between the flower beds, was a pleasant arbour, and here Hatty made a kind of a little home of her own. Marcus put up a tight box on one of the seats, and there Hatty kept a store of books and playthings for herself and the children, to make the place attractive, and looked so bright and happy herself, that when Marcus came from school he was glad to leave the dull, quiet house, to join the circle in the arbour. Hatty was busy sewing there, one day, while Meg made a parasol for her doll, of a maple leaf, and Harry drew a long-necked squash up and down the walk for a carriage. Suddenly Hatty heard Marcus come out the back door, whistling a cheerful tune. Hatty tucked her work in her pocket, and quickly picked up some bits of bright-colored worsted that were scattered over her dress. Marcus came down the walk, kicking a ball before him, and leaped into the arbour with a regular bound. “Well, Hatty,” he exclaimed, “I was head of my class to-day, and did not get a mark for being late, either. So I stand a chance for the prize yet.” “Were you not late?” asked Hatty, with surprise. “O yes!” answered Marcus, with a laugh. “The boys were all on their knees when I went in, but I opened the door quietly, and nobody heard me; so I got off famously.” “But what did you say when your name was called? You did not tell an untruth, Marcus?” said Hatty, anxiously. “No, indeed!” said Marcus, indignantly. “I am above that!” “I don’t understand it at all,” said Hatty, uneasily. “Why, this was the way. When Mr. Briggs called over the names for punctuality, some how or other his attention wandered just before he got to my name, and he skipped it, so I did not have to answer at all. After Mr. Briggs went out I looked at my name, and there was a cross after it for punctual; so you see it is all right, and my chance for the prize is as good as ever.” “I would rather have a brother who told the truth, than one who got the prize,” said Hatty, earnestly. “Dear Marcus, won’t you tell Mr. Briggs about it?” “I shall do no such thing. Girls are so silly! You never can make them understand anything,” said Marcus, hastily.