"That's just it," cut in Margaret, tragically. "I wa'n't goin' to have them go away. I was goin' to keep 'em always; and now I--Bobby, I _want_ them to go!" she paused and let the full enormity of her confession sink into her hearer's comprehension. Then she repeated: "I want them to go!" "Well, what of it?" retorted Bobby, with airy unconcern. "What of it!" wept Margaret. "Why, Bobby, don't you see? I was goin' to divvy up, and I ought to divvy up, too. I've got trees and grass and flowers and beds with sheets on 'em and enough to eat, and they hain't got anything--not anything. And now I don't want to divvy up, I don't want to divvy up, because I don't want them--here!" Margaret covered her face with her hands and rocked herself to and fro. Bobby was silent. His hands were in his pocket, and his eyes were on an ant struggling with a burden almost as large as itself. "Don't you see, Bobby, it's wicked that I am--awful wicked," resumed Margaret, after a minute. "I want to be nice and gentle like mother wants me to be. I don't want to be Mag of the Alley. I--I hate Mag of the Alley. But if Tom and Patty and the rest stays I shall be just like them, Bobby, I know I shall; and--and so I don't want 'em to stay." Bobby stirred uneasily, changing his position. "Well, you--you hain't asked 'em to, yet; have ye?" he questioned. "No. Mother 'spressly stip'lated that I shouldn't say anything about their stayin' always till their visit was over and they saw how they liked things." "Shucks!" rejoined Bobby, his face clearing. "Then what ye cryin' 'bout? You ain't bound by no contract. You don't have ter divvy up." "But I ought to divvy up." "Pooh! 'Course ye hadn't," scoffed Bobby. "Hain't folks got a right ter have their own things?" Margaret frowned doubtfully. "I don't know," she began with some hesitation. "If I've got nice things and more of 'em than Patty has, why shouldn't she have some of mine? 'Tain't fair, somehow. Somebody ain't playin' straight. I--I'm goin' to ask mother." And she turned slowly away and began to walk toward the house. Not once, but many times during the next few days, did Margaret talk with her mother on this subject that so troubled her. The result of these conferences Bobby learned not five days later when Margaret ran down to meet him at the great driveway gate. Back on the veranda Patty and the others were playing "housekeeping," and Margaret spoke low so that they might not hear. "I _am_ goin' to divvy up," she announced in triumph, "but not here." "Huh?" frowned Bobby. "I _am_ goin' to divvy up--give 'em some of my things, you know," explained Margaret; "then when they go back, mother's goin' with 'em and find a better place for 'em to live in." "Oh, then they are _goin'_ back--eh?" Margaret flushed a little and threw a questioning look into Bobby's face. There seemed to be a laugh in Bobby's voice, though there was none on his lips.