“My mama too,” chimed in Jimmy, “she goes to the Aid every Monday and to card parties nearly all the time. She telled Sarah Jane to 'tend to me and Sarah Jane's asleep. I hear her snoring. Ain't we glad there ain't no grown folks to meddle? Can't we have fun?” “What'll we play?” asked Frances, who had deliberately stepped in a mud puddle on the way, and splashed mud all over herself, “let's make mud pies.” “Naw, we ain't a-going to make no mud pies,” objected Jimmy. “We can make mud pies all time when grown folks 'r' looking at you.” “Le's's play sumpin' what we ain't never play, sence we 's born,” put in Billy. “I hope grandmother won't miss me.” said Lina, “she 's reading a very interesting book.” “Let's play Injun!” yelled Jimmy; “we ain't never play' Injun.” This suggestion was received with howls of delight. “My mama's got a box of red stuff that she puts on her face when she goes to the card parties. She never puts none on when she just goes to the Aid. I can run home and get the box to make us red like Injuns,” said Frances. “My mother has a box of paint, too.” “I ain't never see Aunt Minerva put no red stuff on her face,” remarked Billy, disappointedly. “Miss Minerva, she don't never let the Major come to see her, nor go to no card parties is the reason,” explained the younger boy, “she just goes to the Aid where they ain't no men, and you don't hafter put no red on your face at the Aid. We'll let you have some of our paint, Billy. My mama's got 'bout a million diff'ent kinds.” “We got to have pipes,” was Frances's next suggestion. “My papa's got 'bout a million pipes,” boasted Jimmy, “but he got 'em all to the office, I spec'.” “Father has a meerschaum.” “Aunt Minerva ain't got no pipe.” “Miss Minerva's 'bout the curiousest woman they is,” said Jimmy; “she ain't got nothing a tall; she ain't got no paint and she ain't got no pipe.” “Ladies don't use pipes, and we can do without them anyway,” said Lina, “but we must have feathers; all Indians wear feathers.” “I'll get my mama's duster,” said Jimmy. “Me, too,” chimed in Frances. Here Billy with flying colors came to the fore and redeemed Miss Minerva's waning reputation. “Aunt Minerva's got a great, big buncher tu'key feathers an' I can git 'em right now,” and the little boy flew into the house and was back in a few seconds. “We must have blankets, of course,” said Lina, with the air of one whose word is law; “mother has a genuine Navajo.” “I got a little bow'narruh what Santa Claus bringed me,” put in Jimmy. “We can use hatchets for tomahawks,” continued the little girl. “Come on, Frances; let us go home and get our things and come back here to dress up. Run, Jimmy, get your things! You, too, Billy!” she commanded.