“Down on the dump. It was brought there yesterday, a whole lot of it, several cartloads; came from a place where they have been taking down an old wall, and they had no place to put it, I guess. Anyhow, it’s there.” “I’ll go see if there’s enough,” said Carey, flashing out of the door and up the street. He was back in a minute with a big stone in his hand. “It’s just cellar stone,” he said deprecatingly; “but there’s plenty.” “Humph!” said Louise maturely. “Well, I never thought I’d be glad I lived near that old dump! Do you mean we’re going to have a real fireplace, Carey?” “That’s the contract, kid, and I guess I can make good. But how are we going to get that stone here?” “There’s the express-wagon,” said Louise thoughtfully. “Harry has to work, but I could haul some.” “You!” said Carey contemptuously; “do you suppose I’d let a girl haul stone for me? No, I’ll go borrow a truck. I know a fella has one, and it’s almost quitting time. I know he’ll lend it to me; and, if he does, I’ll work until I get those stones all landed, or like as not somebody else will get their eye on them. Stones like that cost a lot nowadays, even if they are only cellar stones.” “Cellar stones are lovely,” said Cornelia delightedly. “They have a lot of iron in them, and make very artistic houses. I heard a big architect say that once in a lecture at college.” “Well there’s nothing like being satisfied with what you have to have,” said Carey. “Here, Nell, you look out for the rest of that base-board; I’m off to borrow a truck. Next time you see me I’ll be riding a load of stone!” “I’ll come down at six o’clock and help you load!” shouted Harry from the third story, where he was rapidly changing into his working-clothes. “All right, kid; that’s the stuff. Nell will save us some supper, and we’ll work till dark.” “It won’t be dark,” said Louise sagely. “It’s moonlight tonight.” “That’s right too,” said Carey as he seized his hat and dashed out of the house. CHAPTER VIII “You’ve got him to work!” said Louise joyously, looking at her sister with shining eyes. “I didn’t do it,” said Cornelia, smiling. “He came of his own accord, and seems awfully interested.” “Well, it’s because you’re here, of course; that makes all the difference in the world.” “Thank you, Louie,” said her sister, stooping to kiss the warm cheek lovingly. “Now,” said Louise pulling off her clean middy blouse, and starting upstairs, “what do you want me to do first?” “Well, I thought maybe you’d like to dust these books and put them in the bookcase, dear; then they’ll be out of our way.” Louise was rapidly buttoning herself into her old gingham work-dress when Cornelia came hurriedly from the kitchen and called up the stairs, a note of dismay in her voice: