“I don’t understand it!” said Mary, wrinkling her forehead in puzzlement. Then an idea flashed into her head, and she showed her teeth in a broad smile. “Oh, it must have been one of Aunt Nan’s patent jokes.” The girl gave an answering smile. “You mean Miss Corliss?” she suggested. “I know she didn’t like callers. We never ventured to ring the bell in her day. But Mother thought you new neighbors might be different. And I saw you going by yesterday, so I thought I’d try--” She looked at Mary wistfully, with a little cock to her head. “My name is Katy Summers, and we are your nearest neighbors,” she added. “Oh, do come in,” urged Mary, holding open the door hospitably. “It is so nice to see you! I am Mary Corliss.” Katy Summers beamed at her as she crossed the doorsill. And from that moment Mary hoped that they were going to be the best of friends. John appeared just then, much excited and forgetting his dirty face. “It must be a kind of graphophone,” he said, without introduction. “Let me punch that button.” Twisting himself out into the porch, John pushed a dirty thumb against the bell-button of the Corliss home. Instantly sounded the same monotonous response,--“Not at home-- Not at home-- Not at home.” “I say! Isn’t it great!” shouted John, cutting a caper delightedly. “Aunt Nan must have had that fixed so as to scare away callers. Wasn’t she cute?” Mary blushed for her brother, and for the reputation of the house. “It wasn’t cute!” she said hastily. “We shall have to get that bell changed. We aren’t like that, really,” she explained to her visitor. “We love to see people. You were very good to come to this inhospitable old house.” “I wanted to,” said Katy simply, “and Mother thought you’d perhaps all be busy this morning, getting settled. So she sent you over this hot luncheon.” And she held out to Mary the heavy basket. “Oh, how kind of you!” cried Mary. “Let me tell Mother. She will be so pleased! It is so nice to have our nearest neighbor call on us right away.” “I can’t stop but a minute this time,” said Katy, “for my own luncheon is waiting on the table. But I’d like to see your mother. I’ll wait here in the hall.” At the end of the hall facing the front door was an armchair with a back studded with brass nails. Katy sat down in this chair to wait for Mrs. Corliss. Mary ran up the stairs feeling very happy, because already she had found this new friend in the town where she was afraid she was going to be lonesome. But hardly had she reached the top of the stairs when she heard a funny little cry from the hall below. It was Katy’s voice that called. “Oh!” it cried. “Help! Mary Corliss!” “What is it?” called Mary, leaning over the banisters to see what the matter was.