John had stairs just such as Mary Jane expected and, to tell the truth, he was a bit surprised to find that Mary Jane could run up the steep stairs as fast and as fearlessly as he could. He couldn’t see how a girl who knew nothing about automobiles (when he was so used to them!) could know about anything at all. On the main floor of the barn the children inspected all the nooks and corners, John explaining and playing host manfully. "Now let’s go to the pasture lot," he suggested. "I want to show you sumping there." So out to the pasture lot they went, running gayly along the narrow roadway past the garden. John led them up the hill, over stones and through briars and he wouldn’t stop for anything till the very top by the fence was reached. Once there he looked around as though hunting for something. "Why—where—?" he said in a puzzled way. In the meantime Mary Jane stepped up close to the rocky wall bordering the pasture to pick some wild flowers she saw in bloom there. And as she reached into the bushes to pick the flowers, her hand brushed against something furred—and soft—and warm. "Oh!" she cried drawing her hand back in a jiffy, "it’s alive!" John pushed into the bushes and there discovered what he was looking for—his best pet of all, his wee lamb. He caught firm hold of the soft wool at the back of the lamb’s neck and pulling hard dragged the shy little creature out for inspection. "Oh, I didn’t know it was a lamb!" exclaimed Mary Jane happily. "I’m not afraid of a lamb, I’m not. I had a pet lamb too at grandpa’s farm." John and Mary Jane sat down on the nearest rock and fell to comparing notes about the lamb she had had and the lamb before them, and so busy were they that they failed to notice the approach of John’s father with a wheelbarrow. "Anybody want a ride?" he asked. "And Alice, if any big girl like you says she wants one, she’s going to be fooled. But if any people the size of John and Mary Jane want one they’d better get in quick, because mother has just given the signal for dinner and that means come and wash your hands this minute." John settled himself in the front of the barrow with his toes hanging over the wheel while his father lifted Mary Jane on just behind. And with Alice for an escort the party went back to the house. "I love to wash hands at a back door," said Mary Jane enviously as she saw John’s father splashing at a pan near the door. "It’s so common to wash in a bathroom!" "Well," laughed Cousin Louise, "I can’t say that everybody agrees with you! I know I felt very grand when we had our nice bathroom installed upstairs. But if you’d really _rather_ wash down here, I think John can find you a pan and a towel." Alice went upstairs with her mother and washed in a nice, lady-like fashion, but John and Mary Jane had a beautiful splash-y time at the back doorstep and to judge from their red noses—and the towel—they must have come to the table every bit as clean.