"His glances would be in good demand in this family," remarked Theodore. "I'm glad you got slammed, myself. You were so all-fired smart about making an impression on him. I suppose you thought that when you had an axe to grind he'd run at your bidding with the cheerful expression of the lion on the Norway coat-of-arms. You've got your come-up-ance, Miss Billy." His sister deigned no reply. "What are you going to do about the sidewalk?" inquired her tormentor. "Fix it myself," said Miss Billy haughtily. "I'd like to see you do it," said Theodore. "It will be the second thing you've made a failure of on this bright and beautiful holiday." "Wait and see," said Miss Billy, with determination in her step. She made her way to the pile of packing boxes in the cellar. "They won't make very good lumber," she said to herself, "but they're all I can get without sacrificing my own modest and retiring income. Beside, I suppose they will be easier to work with than heavy planking would be." It took time and strength to knock the boxes to pieces, and measure the boards; but Miss Billy was a born carpenter, and Ted's parting words added impetus to the task. An hour later, Beatrice, attracted by the noise of hammering in front of the house, looked out of the window. Down on her knees on the front walk was Miss Billy. She had on a chemistry apron made of gorgeous striped ticking, which was much stained by chemicals used in the school laboratory. A hideous garden hat was perched rakishly on her head, and a pair of Theodore's old gloves protected her hands. Her face was flushed, and her hair towsled; but two of the rotten planks in the walk had already been replaced by clean new ones, and the young carpenter was nailing down a third with great energy. Five of the Canarys and a varied assortment of Murphys and Levis were grouped around the spot, making a most appreciative audience. Beatrice waited to see no more. She threw on a hat, and rushed to the fence. "Wilhelmina Lee!" she exclaimed angrily. Miss Billy raised a moist and somewhat grimy face. "What are you doing?" inquired Her sister. "Mending the walk," answered Miss Billy, articulating with some difficulty, for her mouth was full of nails. "Well I should think you'd be ashamed," said Beatrice with spirit. "I regret to say that I am a trifle ashamed," said Billy, removing the nails. "I have a miserable kind of false pride that fills me with dread lest any one of the Blanchard type see me doing honest labour. That's why I put this apron on,--for a disguise, you know." "You needn't worry about concealing your identity," responded Beatrice angrily. "Nobody in the world but you would come out in full view of the public to make an exhibition of herself." Miss Billy turned to her childish audience. "The public don't seem to be shocked," she said. "If mother were home----" began Beatrice.