"Oh, Johnny, how awful!" said Edith, stirring the seething sweetness; "Johnny, be a lamb, and get me a tumbler of cold water, will you, to try this stuff?" Johnny brought the water ("Oh, how young she is!" he thought), and Edith poured a trickle of taffy into it. "Is it done?" Edith said, and held out the brittle string of candy; he bit at it, and said he guessed so. Then they poured the foamy stuff into a pan, and put it in the refrigerator. "We'll wait till it gets stiff," said Edith. "I think," said Johnny, in a low voice, "your hair is handsomer than most women's. I'm particular about a woman's hair." Edith, sitting on the edge of the table, displaying very pretty ankles, put an appraising hand over the brown braids that were wound around her head in a sort of fillet. "Are you?" she said, and began to yawn--but stopped short, her mouth still open, for Johnny Bennett was _looking at her_! "Let's go into the library," she said, hurriedly. "I like it out here," Johnny objected. But as he spoke Maurice lounged into the kitchen. "Stiff?" he said. "No; won't be for ages," Edith said--and instantly the desire to fly to the library ceased, especially as Mrs. Newbolt came trundling in. With Maurice astride one of the wooden chairs, his blue eyes droll and teasing, and Mrs. Newbolt enthroned in adipose good nature close to the stove, Edith was perfectly willing to stay in the kitchen! "I say!" Maurice said. "Let's pull the stuff!" Johnny looked cross. "What," he asked himself, "are Maurice and Mrs. Newbolt butting in for?" Then he softened, for Maurice was teasing Edith, and Mrs. Newbolt was tasting the candy, and the next minute all was in delightful uproar of stickiness and excitement, and Johnny, exploding into wild cackles of laughter, felt quite young for the next hour.