At any rate, it would be comforting to know that the bobtailed mice were still there, underneath. To-day the smell of the paste and new paper was all through the house. The men were to have come last week. To-day it was awkward: it was Martin’s birthday (he was ten) and he and Bunny had been told to invite some friends for a small party. It was raining, too: one of those steady drumming rains that make a house so cosy. The Grown-Ups were having tea on the veranda, so the party was in the dining room. When Mrs. Richmond looked through the glass porch doors to see how they were getting on, she was surprised to find no one visible. “Where on earth have those children gone?” she exclaimed. “How delightfully quiet they are.” There was a seven-voiced halloo of triumph, and a great scuffle and movement under the big mahogany table. Several steamer rugs had been pinned together and draped across the board so that they hung down forming a kind of pavilion. From this concealment the children came scrambling and surrounded her in a lively group. “We had all disappeared!” said Bunny. She was really called Eileen, but she was soft and plump and brown-eyed and twitch-nosed; three years younger than her brother. “You came just in time to save us,” said Martin gaily. “Just in time to save my table,” amended Mrs. Richmond. “Bunny, you know how you cried when you scratched your legs going blackberrying. Do you suppose the table likes having its legs scratched any better than you do? And those grimy old rugs all over my lace cloth. Martin, take them off at once.” “We were playing Stern Parents,” explained Alec, a cousin and less awed by reproof than the other guests, who were merely friends. Mrs. Richmond was taken aback. “What a queer name for a game.” “It’s a lovely game,” said Ruth, her face pink with excitement. “You pretend to be Parents and you all get together and talk about the terrible time you have with your children----” Martin broke in: “And you tell each other all the things you’ve had to scold them for----” “And you have to forbid their doing all kinds of things,” said Ben. “And speak to them Very Seriously,” chirped Bunny. Mrs. Richmond felt a twinge of merriment at the echo of this familiar phrase. “And every time you’ve punished them for something that doesn’t really matter----” (this was Phyllis). “--You’re a _Stern Parent_, and have to disappear!” cried Martin. “You get under the table and can’t come out until someone says something nice about you.” “It’s a very instructing game, ’cause you have to know just how far children can be allowed to go----” “But we were _all_ Stern Parents, and had all disappeared.” “Yes, and then Mother said we were delightfully quiet, and that saved us.” “What an extraordinary game,” said Mrs. Richmond. “All Martin’s games are extraordinary,” said Phyllis. “He just made up one called Quarrelsome Children.” “Will you play it with us?” asked Bunny.