"Oh, not to-day, dear, they are so noisy. Wait until to-morrow." "May we make some candy, Doris? And pop corn?" "Oh, Zee, not on Sunday. Why don't you take a walk?" "Too hot," objected Treasure. "Let's go and make father tell us a story." "You wouldn't bother him to-day, surely. He has to go to Waltons' at three for the wedding." "Why can't we go to the wedding with him? We are very good at weddings." "Not this time, dear. We weren't invited. It is just a quiet wedding on the rush--they start east this afternoon, you know." "I don't believe in weddings on the rush--they ought to take their time and have old shoes and rice and refreshments," insisted Zee stubbornly. "What shall we do then, Doris? You ought to think of something." Doris racked her brain. She had to rack her brain every Sunday afternoon, but somehow she could not keep a supply of ideas in storage. "Why don't you go to the meadow and pick some goldenrod?" she suggested finally. "Bud is coming to tea with Rosalie, and think how it will please her." Treasure and Zee looked at each other, and as neither could think of a plausible objection, they acted upon the plan. When they were gone, Doris got up, luxuriously, and lifted her arms high above her head. "Oh, day of rest," she breathed fervently, and wandered comfortably through the house and into the yard. Sunday was a blissful day, after all. Later in the afternoon she arranged the table attractively for tea, and made a pile of dainty sandwiches. And it was in the midst of this occupation that she was interrupted by the jingling of the telephone. "Is this Miss Artman? Miss Doris-- Do you recognize my voice?" "Oh, Mr. Wizard, I wish I didn't. Then you would have to tell me." He laughed at that, and his laugh was as pleasantly aggravating by telephone as in person. "However did you come to call me up?" she asked. "Sad news, my friend, sad news. Two young girls claiming to belong to you are under arrest out here on a charge of trespassing." Doris trembled so she nearly dropped the receiver. "Arrest?" she faltered. "Well, practically. You see there is a big sign up which says, 'No trespassing,' and along came two young girls walking beside the creek, picking flowers, and shooing birds, and chasing rabbits, as natural as life. Out jumps a wild and angry game-keeper--so-called. He says, 'Didn't you see that sign, "No Trespassing"?' The little dark one began to cry, but the other one said, 'We are not trespassing, we are picking flowers.' 'They are my personal flowers,' said the game-keeper. 'Nothing of the kind, they are God's, you didn't even plant them, for they are wild.' Then I arrive, like mercury on the wings of the wind, and the dark one was still weeping--" "Zee doesn't cry," wailed Doris. "She does cry. She not only cries, she bellows. But the slender, white one insisted they were not trespassing because they are preachers and preachers do not trespass. What shall I do with them?"