"Our next issue is now ready for the press," he said. "The three Rutherfords--all B's, and so naturally inclined to be busy--were coming down the road as the Grey girls struggled with the stalled mower, and resolved to rescue the brave damsels. High and low they sought till they had found three scythes, or scythes and sickles. Armed with these they marched down upon the grey house, cut the grass with wild hallos, and returned triumphant to the Caldwell place. Come on, Bas; hurry up, Bart; we'll shave the grey place clean." "Oh, you three long angels!" cried Rob, starting up rapturously as the three Rutherfords arose to carry out Bruce's suggestion with prompt enthusiasm. "I said when I saw you coming that I wished you'd cut this tough grass for us, but I never thought of it again. Wait a minute; I want to speak to Mardy." She darted to the house and came flying back again from around the rear corner before the others had time to wonder why she had gone. "It's all right; I knew she'd say yes," Rob panted. "Come to-morrow afternoon, if you really want to do it, and we'll ask Frances down, and have some sort of supper on the newly shaved lawn, among the sweet-smelling grass--even this weedy grass will be fragrant, newly mown. Will you do that?" "It will be great!" said the boys, heartily. "Of course we'll come." And they bade the Grey girls good-by, with much satisfaction in their first call. "Nice girls," said Basil, as they swung up the road, the tallest, Bartlemy, in the middle, an arm resting on each tall brother's shoulder. "Which is the nicest?" "Hard to say," began Bartlemy, but Bruce cut him short with decision, saying: "Prue's as pretty as a picture; Oswyth's pretty, too, though not as pretty, and she's a lady, but Rob's a dandy! She's got go and pluck, and did you ever see such a face for crinkling up? I had to watch it; you couldn't tell what it would do next--pretty, she is too--splendid eyes and hair." The girls echoed the boys' favorable opinion of them, and it was re-echoed that night at bedtime between the large room which Oswyth and Roberta shared and the small one Prue occupied in solitary dignity. The Greys were early astir on the following morning, for "the mowing-bee of the B's," as Rob called it, entailed extra labor, well worth it though it was. Supper, when one does not consider expense, is a simple enough problem, but supper when there is little to spend means expenditure of strength instead of money. Mrs. Grey cut the thinnest slices of her own famous bread, buttered it perfectly, and set it away in the ice-chest while she made egg sandwiches and chopped crispy lettuce out of the garden--lettuce which did not look--in spite of Rob's suspicion--as though the farmer who carried on the Grey garden on shares had "unrolled it to count its leaves."