"Oh, dear!" she sighed. "We must take a lot of it back, Kenny. Why didn't you keep track of what you were spending? Why, that's nearly a fourth of one thousand dollars." He grinned cheerfully. "And we haven't begun to paint the house yet, or paper the walls, or set out the flower beds, or--" "Goodness me!" she cried, aghast. "You are not going to do all that now, are you?" "Every bit of it," he affirmed. "I am going to rebuild the barn, put in a new well, dig a cistern, build a smoke-house, lay a brick walk down to the front gate and put up a brand new picket fence--" "You must be made of money," she cried, eyeing him with wonder in her big, violet eyes. "I am richer now than when we started out this morning," said he, magnificently. "When you say things like that, you almost make me wish you were not my brother," said she, after a moment, and to her annoyance she felt the blood mount to her face. "And what would you do if I were not your brother?" he inquired, looking straight ahead. Whereupon she laughed unrestrainedly. "You would be dreadfully shocked if I were to tell you,--but I can't help saying that Barry would be so jealous he wouldn't know what to do." "You might find yourself playing with fire." "Well," she said, flippantly, "I've got over wanting to play with dolls. Now don't scold me! I can see by your face that you'd like to shake me good and hard. My, what a frown! I am glad it isn't January. If your face was to freeze--There! That's better. I shouldn't mind at all if it froze now. You look much nicer when you smile, Kenny." Her voice dropped a little and a serious expression came into her eyes. "I don't believe I ever saw father smile. But I've seen him when he looked exactly as you did just then. I--I hope you don't mind my talking that way about your father, Kenny. I wouldn't if he were not mine as well." "You knew him far better than I," he reminded her. Then he added brightly: "I shall try to do better from now on. I'll smile--if it kills me." "Don't do that," she protested, with a pretty grimace. "I've been in mourning for ages, it seems, and I'm sure I should hate you if you kept me in black for another year or two." As they parted at Kenneth's gate,--it seemed to be mutely understood that he was to go no farther,--they observed a tall, black figure cross the little front porch of the house beyond and disappear through the door. Kenneth's eyes hardened. The girl, looking up into those eyes, shook her head and smiled wistfully. "Will you come over and help me put all these things where they belong?" he asked, after a moment. "This afternoon, Kenny?" "If you haven't anything else you would rather--" he began. "I can't wait to see how the house will look when we get everything in place. I will be over right after dinner,--unless mother needs me for something." . . . . .