This was not quite fair on Sarah's part, for Rosemary though devoted to her music and already an advanced pupil, seldom practised more than an hour in the morning and another in the afternoon. The fact was that six year old Shirley was developing the running-away habit at an alarming rate. She came home late that afternoon, tired and cross, and to Rosemary's questions returned the briefest answers. Yes, she had been playing with the Bailey children. No, not in their yard. No, they had not gone with her when she went further on. She had gone by herself. Yes, she had had some lunch, a pound of sweet crackers. "Where did you get them?" asked Rosemary, who was brushing the sunny hair. "At the grocery," admitted Shirley. "But you didn't have any money, dear, did you?" said Rosemary in surprise. "I charged 'em--Mr. Holmes said it would be all right," announced Shirley complacently. "Shirley Willis! And you know Mother positively never allows us to charge a thing unless she orders it," cried Rosemary. "What do you suppose Hugh would say? Did you eat a whole pound?" No, Shirley confessed, she had had crackers to give away. She had given some to a strange dog and some to a little boy and girl she met. "What little boy and girl?" demanded Rosemary, beginning to feel that this youngest sister was too much for her. "Where did you meet them?" "At the dump lot," said Shirley sweetly. Rosemary stared at her. The "dump lot" was on the other side of the town and furnished an annual topic of discussion for the Eastshore Woman's Club. To it the town refuse and garbage was carted and it was regularly hauled over and searched by bands of men, women and children intent on salvage. "What shall I do with you?" groaned poor Rosemary. "After this, you'll have to stay in the yard, Shirley. You know Hugh would scold if he heard you were playing in the dump lot. Promise Sister you won't go away from the house to-morrow morning." Shirley, looking more than ever like an adorable cherub in freshly ironed pink chambray, shook her head naughtily. "I might want to go," she argued. "But you mustn't!" Rosemary's voice was earnest. "You can't run all over town like this, darling. You'll be run over by an automobile, or something dreadful will happen to you. Promise to stay in your own yard like a good girl." Shirley would not promise. The worried Rosemary went to Winnie. "I don't want to tell Hugh," she explained, "he's busy and when he's home Shirley is so cunning and funny I don't believe he thinks she can be naughty. Besides Mother told me to look after the children--what can I do, Winnie?" and Rosemary, a child herself waited Winnie's reply anxiously.