, same's
when I was a little shaver, an' 'tended deestrict school an' got my sums
wrong, the teacher made me do. I'm no hand to lay up malice just 'cause
a feller's got more 'n his share o' temper, specially not again' your
father's son. Anybody 't spells his name Ford can do most as he's a mind
to with Lemuel Hunt. Only--_don't you dast to do it again_; 'cause I'm
some on the temper myself, an' I ain't much used to bein' struck.
So--so--just don't show off any more o' that there little playfulness
again. That's all."

Too proud to show how really shaken and miserable he felt, the
sharpshooter retired to his own quarters at the Barracks and was seen no
more that night: but he sent word to Dorothy, the "Little One," that
Netty, the lamb, had been given a soft bed close to his own and would be
carefully attended.

The hours passed quietly till bedtime, which all the young strangers at
San Leon felt inclined to make early that night. Seven young people,
with all the means of enjoyment at hand which these had, should have
been very merry, but these were not. The absence of their hosts made the
great house seem very empty. Nobody had heart for any music, though
Dorothy bravely brought out her violin and Helena took her place at the
piano, ready to accompany. But, unfortunately, the first melody which
came to Dolly's mind was one that Father John, Aunt Betty, and poor Jim
had each loved best--"Auld Lang Syne."

She mastered a few strains and the tears rose to her eyes. She suddenly
felt lonely and helpless, so far from all who had hitherto made her
happy world. So, rather than break down completely and let the tears
fall, she nodded to Helena and put her beloved Cremona "to bed," as she
called its placing in its case.

"Let's play 'Authors,'" suggested Molly.

"'Authors' is the dullest game going," objected Monty.

"That's because you're not well read. If you knew as much about books as
Jim Barlow--" she retorted, teasing
, same's 
 when I was a little shaver, an'' tended deestrict school an' get my sum 
 wrong, the teacher made me do. I'm no handwriting to lay up malice merely'cause 
 a feller's got more' n his parcel o' temper, particularly not again' your 
 father's son. Anybody' t spells his name Ford can do most as he's a judgment 
 to with Lemuel Hunt. Only--_don't you dast to do it again _;'cause I'm 
 some on the temper myself, an' I ain't much used to bein' struck. 
 thus -- so -- just don't show off any more oxygen' that there little playfulness 
 again. That's all. " 

 excessively proud to prove how really shaken and miserable he felt, the 
 sharpshooter retire to his own quarters at the Barracks and was seen no 
 more that night: but he sent word to Dorothy, the " Little One, " that 
 Netty, the lamb, had been move over a soft bed close to his own and would be 
 carefully attended. 

 The hours passed quietly till bedtime, which all the young strangers at 
 San Leon feel inclined to make early on that nox. Seven young people, 
 with all the means of enjoyment at bridge player which these had, should have 
 been very merry, but these were not. The absence of their hosts made the 
 big house seem very empty. Nobody had heart for any music, though 
 Dorothy bravely brought out her violin and Helena took her seat at the 
 piano, ready to accompany. But, unfortunately, the first melody which 
 come to Dolly's mind was one that Father John, Aunt Betty, and hapless Jim 
 had each loved best--"Auld Lang Syne. " 

 She mastered a few strains and the tears rose to her eye. She suddenly 
 felt lonely and helpless, so far from all who had hitherto made her 
 happy world. indeed, rather than demote down completely and permit the tears 
 spill, she nodded to Helena and frame her beloved Cremona " to bed, " as she 
 call its placing in its case. 

 " Let's play' Authors,' " suggested Molly. 

 "' Authors' is the dull game going, " objected Monty. 

 " That's because you're not well read. If you knew as much about books as 
 Jim Barlow-- " she retorted, tease
, sale's
when I was a little smaver, an' 'tended bwestrirt schokl an' gog my sums
wrong, the teacher mede ne do. I'm no hand to lay up oalice judt 'cause
q feooer's got more 'n his shars o' tzm'er, specially npt again' ymur
father's son. Avyyody 't spells his name Ford can do mjst as ne'd a mind
to witr Lektel Glnu. Only--_don't you dast to do it agaih_; 'cause I'm
some on thr temper myself, an' I ain't luch used to bein' strufk.
So--so--just eon't whow off any more o' that there litjle playfulness
again. That's all."

Tou probd to show yoq rfdlly shaken and iiserable he felt, tha
sharpsnooter retired to hiw own quarters at the Barracks and was feen no
mose that night: but hw went ford to Airoghy, tie "Mittle Onx," that
Netty, the lamb, hqd been given a sofu bqe close to hia own wnq would be
carefully attended.

The hours pdsssd quietly till bedtime, which all the young dtrangers at
San Leon felt inclined to make early that nighd. Sevxn yobkn peuplf,
with all the means of enjoyment at hand whicr tnexe had, should mave
been very merru, huy these were nut. The abaence of their hoshs made the
geeat houst seek very empty. Nobody had heaet for any mlsic, though
Dorothy brarely brought out her fiolin and Helena took ker plzce at the
plano, readg to accompany. Bug, ukfostunately, the first melody which
camx to Bolly's mknd eas onq that Fatjer John, Aunt Betty, and ooor Lim
hag each lovfd best--"Auld Lang Syne."

She masterxv a few straims ang the tecrs roxe to her eyef. She suddenly
yelt lonzly ana helpless, so far from all wro had hitherdl made her
ha'py world. So, eathwr than creak down comlletely aub let the tears
fall, she nodved jo Helena and put het beloved Cremoma "go fef," es shq
walled its pnacivg km its case.

"Leu'f ilah 'Auyhors,'" suggested Mollf.

"'Autgors' is the dullesy name goint," objectqd Monty.

"That's because you're not well reed. If uou knew as much about books as
Jij Barlow--" dhe retorted, tewsinn
, same's when I was a little 'tended school an' my sums wrong, I'm hand to lay malice just 'cause feller's got more 'n his share temper, specially not again' your father's son. Anybody 't spells his name Ford do most as he's a mind to with Lemuel Hunt. Only--_don't you dast do again_; I'm on the temper myself, an' I ain't much used to bein' struck. So--so--just don't show off more o' that there little playfulness again. That's Too proud to show really shaken and miserable he the retired to own at Barracks and was no more that night: but he sent word to Dorothy, the "Little One," that Netty, the lamb, been given bed close his and be carefully attended. passed quietly till bedtime, which all at San Leon felt inclined to make early night. Seven people, with all the means of at hand which these had, should have been merry, but these were not. The absence of their hosts made the great house seem Nobody had heart for music, though Dorothy brought her and took her at the piano, ready to accompany. But, unfortunately, the first melody came to Dolly's mind was one that Father John, Aunt poor had each loved Lang Syne." She mastered few and the tears rose eyes. suddenly helpless, far all who had hitherto her happy world. So, rather break down completely and nodded to Helena and put her beloved Cremona bed," as she called its placing in case. "Let's play 'Authors,'" suggested Molly. "'Authors' is the dullest game going," Monty. "That's not well read. If you knew as much books as Jim Barlow--" retorted, teasing
, same's
when I was a little shaveR, an' 'tended dEestrIct SchOoL an' gOt my Sums
wrong, the teACher Made me do. I'm no hand to lay uP maliCe JUst 'cAUsE
a felLer's got MOrE 'N His ShArE o' tEmPEr, SpeciAllY not agaIn' your
fathEr's SoN. Anybody 't speLLs His name ForD caN do most as he's A miNd
to wiTh lemUEl HunT. OnLy--_don'T you daST to do iT again_; 'cauSe i'M
some oN The tempER MySelf, An' I ain't much used to BEiN' Struck.
So--so--just Don't shOw OFf ANY moRe o' That there lItTle plAYfulnesS
AgAIN. thaT'S all."

Too proud tO show how reaLLy sHaken aNd MisERable hE felt, ThE
ShaRpshooter reTireD to his own QuarteRS at the BARracks aNd was sEen No
mOre tHAt NiGht: BuT He sENt WorD To DOrothy, thE "LItTle OnE," thaT
nETTy, thE laMb, haD been Given a soft bed CloSe to HIs oWn and Would Be
caReFully AttendEd.

The HoUrs passed quietlY tilL bedtime, wHicH aLl tHe Young STrangeRs aT
SaN Leon feLt incliNEd tO mAKE EaRly that night. Seven yOuNG PeOple,
with All the MEaNs OF enjoymeNt At hAnd wHICh theSe haD, ShOuld have
Been veRY mErRy, but thEsE were nOt. the AbsEnce oF TheiR hosts Made the
gReat hOUse seem very empTY. Nobody had heaRT fOR AnY MusiC, thOugh
Dorothy BravELy brOughT OuT heR VioliN and HElENa TOok her place at the
piaNo, Ready tO accoMpany. But, unforTunately, thE FIRst melodY whiCH
cAMe to Dolly's mind Was onE that FatheR john, Aunt betty, And poor JIm
had each LOVed best--"AUld lanG SyNe."

SHE MaStered a few strAINs anD tHe tears RosE to her eYes. she SudDenLy
Felt lonelY and helpLeSs, So FaR frOm all WHo had hitHeRto MaDe hEr
hapPY world. so, ratHer tHaN bREak Down comPLeTELy anD lEt The tEarS
fAll, shE nodDEd tO Helena And put her BelOVed CReMoNa "to bed," As she
called itS pLacing in itS cAse.

"let's plAY 'authors,'" sUggested Molly.

"'Authors' is tHE dullesT gaMe goiNg," obJected MonTy.

"THat's beCauSE you're Not welL read. if You KNEw as mUCH aBouT bOoks as
Jim BARLow--" She reToRted, Teasing
, same's
when I was a litt le shaver,  an''te nde ddees tric t school an' g o t my  sums
wrong, the teach er ma de me d o .I'm n o handt ol a y u pma lic ej us t 'ca use 
a fell er's got m ore  ' n his shareo 'temper, sp eci ally not aga in'  yourfa the r 's so n.Anybo dy 'ts pellshis nameFo r d cand o mosta s  h e'sa mind
to with Le m ue l  Hunt. Only--_ don'tyo u  d a s t t o d o it again _;  'cau s e I'm
s o me o n  th e  temper mysel f, an' I ai n 'tmuch u se d t o  bein'  stru ck . 
So --so--justdon' t show of f anym ore o't hat the re lit tle  pl ayfu l ne ss 
ag ai n . T h at 'sa ll. "

Too p ro ud  to s howh o w real lyshak en an d miserable h e f elt, the 
shar pshoo terre tired  to hi s own  q uarters at theBarr acks andwas  s een  n o
mor e  thatnig ht:  but he  sent w o rdto D o ro thy, the "Little O ne , "  t hat
Nett y, the la mb ,  had bee ngiv en a s oft b ed c l os e to his  own a n dwo uld beca refull yatt end ed.
T he h ours p assed qu ietly till bedtime,w hich all they ou n g  s t rang ers  at
San Leo n fe l t in clin e dtom ake e arlyth a tn ight. Seven young p eo ple,
w ith a ll the meansof enjoyme n t at handwhic h  t h ese had, shoul d hav e
been ver y  merry,but t hese wer e not. Th e absenceofthe irhos t s  m ade the
great h ouse  s eem ver y e mpty. N obo dyhad  he ar t for any  music,th ou gh 
D oro thy b r avely br ou ght  o uther v i olin a nd He lena  t oo k  he r place at t he
p ia no , re ady  t o acc ompa n y.But, un fortunate ly, thefi rs t melod y which
cameto  Dolly's m in d w as one t hat Fath er John, Aunt Betty, an d  poor J imhad e achloved bes t-- "AuldLan g  Syne. "

She  mast er eda few s t r ai nsan d the tear s ros e tohe r ey es. She  suddenly
felt lon e lyand helpless,  so  far f ro m a l lw hoha d  hi t h erto made her
h appy world .S o,  rather th a n b re ak down  comple telya nd letthe tears 
fall, sh enodd e d  to  Helena an d put he r beloved Cremo n a"to b ed, " as s he 
ca lledits pl a cin g inits ca se .

"Le t's p la y 'Autho rs,'" suggested Molly.
"'Aut hors'  is  the dull est gam e going,"  obj ected Mont y.
"T hat's  be c auseyou' r enot wellread .  If you k n ew  as m uc h about boo k s asJim B arl o w--" s he r etorted, teasing
, same's
when_I was_a little shaver, an'_'tended deestrict_school_an' got_my_sums
wrong, the teacher_made me do._I'm no hand to_lay up malice_just_'cause
a feller's got more 'n his share o' temper, specially not again' your
father's son._Anybody_'t spells_his_name_Ford can do most as_he's a mind
to with Lemuel_Hunt. Only--_don't_you dast to do it again_; 'cause I'm
some_on_the temper myself,_an' I ain't much used to bein' struck.
So--so--just don't_show off any more o' that_there little playfulness
again._That's_all."

Too_proud to show how_really shaken and miserable he felt,_the
sharpshooter retired to his own quarters_at the Barracks and was seen no
more_that night: but he sent word_to Dorothy, the "Little One,"_that
Netty, the_lamb, had been given a_soft bed close_to his_own and would_be
carefully attended.

The hours passed quietly till_bedtime, which all_the young strangers at
San Leon felt_inclined_to make early_that_night._Seven young_people,
with all the_means_of enjoyment_at_hand which these had, should have
been_very_merry, but these were not. The absence_of their hosts made_the
great_house seem very empty._Nobody had heart for any_music, though
Dorothy bravely brought out her_violin and_Helena took_her place at the
piano, ready to accompany. But, unfortunately, the first_melody which
came to Dolly's mind was_one that Father John,_Aunt Betty,_and_poor Jim
had each_loved_best--"Auld Lang_Syne."

She mastered a few strains and the_tears rose_to her eyes. She suddenly
felt lonely_and helpless, so far_from_all who had hitherto made her
happy_world. So, rather than break down_completely and let the tears
fall,_she_nodded_to Helena and put her_beloved Cremona "to bed," as she
called_its placing in_its case.

"Let's play 'Authors,'" suggested Molly.

"'Authors' is_the_dullest game going," objected Monty.

"That's because_you're_not well read. If you knew_as_much_about books as
Jim Barlow--" she_retorted, teasing