"Oh, then you're older than me--March, April, May, June--four months. My birthday's in June. What do you do at school? Let's see your books. I wish _I_ went to school!" "Shu!" said Sammy. "What's the use of sending a gel to school? Gels can't learn." "So Jim says," Beth rejoined with an absence of conviction that roused Sammy. "All boys say so," he declared. "All boys are silly," said Beth. "What's the use of saying things? That doesn't make them true. You're as bad as Jim." "Who's Jim?" Sammy interrupted jealously. "Jim's my brother." Sammy, relieved, kicked his heel on the pavement. "Which is tallest?" he asked presently, "you or me?" "I'm tallest, I think," Beth answered; "but never mind. You're the fattest. I've grown long, and you've grown broad." "You're mighty sharp," said Sammy. "You're mighty blunt," said Beth. "And you'll be mighty late for tea, too. Look at the church-clock!" Sammy glanced up, then fled precipitately; and Beth, turning to leave the window, discovered Harriet standing in the background, grinning. "So you've getten a sweetheart!" she exclaimed. "There's nothing like beginning early." "So you've been listening again," Beth answered hotly. "Bad luck to you!" A few days later Mrs. Caldwell was sitting with Lady Benyon, who was in the bow-window as usual, looking out. "If I am not mistaken," said Lady Benyon suddenly, "there is a crowd collecting at your house." "What! again?" Mrs. Caldwell groaned, jumping up. "If I'm not mistaken," Lady Benyon repeated. Mrs. Caldwell hurried off without even waiting to shake hands. On getting into the street, however, she was relieved to find that Lady Benyon had been mistaken. There was no crowd collecting in Orchard Street, but, as she approached her own house, she became aware of a small boy at the drawing-room window talking to some one within, whom she presently discovered to be Beth. "What are you doing there, Beth?" she demanded severely. "Who is this boy?" Beth started. "Sammy Lee," she gasped. "Mr. Lee's grandson at the end of Orchard Row." "Why are you talking to him?" her mother asked harshly. "I won't have you talking to him. Who will you scrape acquaintance with next?" Then she turned to Sammy, who stood shaking in his shoes, with all the rosy colour faded from his fair fat cheeks, too frightened to stir. "Go away," said Mrs. Caldwell, "you've no business here talking to my daughter, and I won't allow it."