She laughed heartily, but Betty was determined not to let herself dwell on anything so trivial, and soon, by way of changing the subject, she was putting Nickey up to the idea of forming a boy-scout corps, which, as she added, could present the village with a thoroughly versatile organization, both useful and ornamental. "Gee," remarked Nickey, who quickly saw himself captaining a body of likely young blades, "that'd be some lively corpse, believe me. When can we start in, Mrs. Maxwell?" "You must ask Mr. Maxwell all about that, Nickey," she laughed. "But not now," interposed his mother. "You come along with me this minute, and let Mr. Maxwell have a bit of peace; I know how he just loves these teas. Good night, all!" she called as she departed with her son under her wing. "Donald! Wasn't it all fun--and weren't they all splendid?" Betty glowed. "More fun than a barrel of Bascoms--monkeys, I mean," he corrected himself, laughing at Betty's shocked expression. [Illustration] CHAPTER XII HOUSE CLEANING AND BACHELORHOOD Apart from Mrs. Burke, there was no one in the town who so completely surrendered to Mrs. Maxwell's charms as Jonathan Jackson, the Junior Warden. Betty had penetration enough to see, beneath the man's rough exterior, all that was fine and lovable, and she treated him with a jolly, friendly manner that warmed his heart. One day she and Mrs. Burke went over to call on Jonathan, and found him sitting in the woodshed on a tub turned bottom upwards, looking very forlorn and disconsolate. "What's the matter, Jonathan? You look as if you had committed the unpardonable sin," Hepsey greeted him. "No, it 'aint me," Jonathan replied; "it's Mary McGuire that's the confounded sinner this time." "Well, what's Mary been up to now?" "Mary McGuire's got one of her attacks of house-cleanin' on, and I tell you it's a bad one. Drat the nuisance." "Why Jonathan! Don't swear like that." "Well, I be hanged if I can stand this sort of thing much longer. Mary, she's the deuce and all, when she once gets started house-cleanin'." "Oh dear," Mrs. Betty sympathized. "It's a bother, isnt it? But it doesn't take so long, and it will soon be over, won't it?" "Well, I don't know as to that," replied Jonathan disconsolately. "Mary McGuire seems to think that the whole house must be turned wrong side out, and every bit of furniture I've got deposited in the front yard. Now, Mrs. Betty, you just look over there once. There's yards and yards of clothes-line covered with carpets and rugs and curtains I've been ordered to clean. It's somethin' beyond words. The whole place looks as if there was goin' to be an auction, or a rummage sale, or as if we had moved out 'cause the house was afire. Then she falls to with tubs of boilin' hot soap-suds, until it fills your lungs, and drips off the ends of your nose and your fingers, and smells like goodness knows what." "Jonathan!" Hepsey reproved. "Are you exaggerating just the least bit?" echoed Betty.