arranged. Besides it was their own, and who does not know the charm that ownership gives?
They were very impatient to get into it; and there was great rejoicing among the children when at last the announcement was made that it was fit for occupancy.
It was their father who brought the news into their reading and sewing circle, one bright warm afternoon early in July.
"When shall we move, wife?" he asked.
"Oh to-night, to-night! please, mother say to-night," cried several little voices.
Mrs. Keith laughed. "It is no such quick work, children."
"But we might bedin," said Don. "I'll take dis tat and tum back aden for other tings," hugging up a large white and yellow cat that had been a petted member of the household for some months past.
"H'm!" said Cyril, "Toy can take his own self; he's got more feet to run with than any of the rest."
"And he always runs alongside wherever we goes," put in Fan. "Mother can we help move?"
The question was unheard and remained unanswered; for the reason that the older people were talking busily among themselves.
"I think we may begin to-morrow," Mrs. Keith was saying; "Celestia Ann is through with her week's washing and ironing, and I'll set her and Mrs. Rood both to cleaning the new house, while we pack up things here."
"Oh, goodie, goodie! mother, mayn't we all help!" chorused the children.
"We will see, dears; perhaps there may be some little things that you can carry; your own toys you shall carry at any-rate, if you wish. Yes, Stuart, I have had the parlor and one bedroom of the new house cleaned already."
"O mother, can't we have this carpet taken up immediately—I mean go to work and take it up—and have it shaken and carried right over there? and perhaps we could get it down this afternoon, you and auntie and I; and have the furniture of that room carried right into it to-morrow morning, the first thing."
"A capital idea," her father said; "then we will have one room comfortable there before all are torn up here. Come, children, scamper out of the way! Wife; where's the tack hammer?"
"Oh, can't we help?" pleaded the children, "Where shall we go?"
"No, not with this. Go anywhere out of the way."
The order was obeyed somewhat reluctantly, all going out to the adjoining room. Zillah and Ada stopped there and each took a book; the younger three went up stairs.
"Let's pack up our things," said Cyril.
"What'll we pack 'em in?" queried Don.
"We'll see."
The boys got out their stores of marbles, balls, bits of twine, a broken knife or two, a few fish hooks and a set of Jackstraws their father had made for them.
Fan brought out her treasures also, which consisted of several dolls and their wardrobes, a picture book and some badly battered and bruised dishes; the remains of a once highly prized metal toy tea set.
A packing box in one corner of the large second story room was where the playthings of the little ones were always kept when not in use. "A place for everything and everything in its place," being one of the cardinal rules of the household.
"Can we take 'em over there now?" asked Fan, as she gathered hers pell mell into her apron.
"No, of course not," said Cyril. "Didn't you hear mother say we couldn't begin moving till to-morrow?"
"Then what did we get 'em out for?"
"To pack 'em up and have 'em ready to take over in the morning."
"What'll we pack 'em in?" reiterated Don.
"Let's look round for a box 'bout the right size," said Cyril. "Course we can't carry them in the big board one. It's too heavy."
A good deal of rummaging followed upon that; first in the outer room, then in the other, occupied by Aunt Wealthy and Mildred.
Finally they came upon a pasteboard box standing on Mildred's writing table, which Cyril pronounced just the thing.
"But maybe Milly won't like us to take it," objected Fan, as he unceremoniously emptied the contents upon the table.
"Oh, she won't care; there's nothing in it but old papers and things writed all over. She's done with them and she'll be puttin' them in the fire next thing. You know she always likes to burn up old rubbish."
That last statement was certainly according to fact, and Fan made no further objection.
Don suggested asking leave, but Cyril overruled that also.
"No; they're all too busy down there; we mustn't bother," he said, walking off with his prize.
One paper had fallen on the floor. Fan stooped, picked it up and looked at it curiously, as the boys hurried off into the other room with their prize.
"Milly didn't do that," she remarked; "tain't pretty writin' like hers. Guess she wouldn't want to keep such an ugly old thing."
"Come Fan," Cyril called, "do you want to put your things in too?"
"Yes;" she said, coming out with the letter still in her hand.
Fan's dolls were put in last and the box was too full to allow the lid to go on.
"I'll take Bertha and carry her in my arms," she said, lifting out her largest and favorite child. "I want her to play wis now and I'd raser not trust her in dere wis dose marbles and balls rollin' round."
"Now the lid fits on all right," said Cyril, adjusting it.
"We're all packed up," observed Don, with satisfaction. "Now let's go play in the grove."
The others were agreed and Fan decided that she must take with her two small rag dolls in addition to Bertha.
Puss had come up stairs with the children and was walking round and round them, as they sat on the carpet, rubbing affectionately against them and purring loudly.
"Let's give 'em a ride on Toy's back," said Cyril. "Here's a string to tie 'em on with, and this old letter shall be the saddle," picking up the one Fan had brought from the other room, and which she had laid down beside the box.
The others were pleased with the idea; Cyril twisted the letter into some slight resemblance to a saddle, and in spite of a vigorous resistance from the cat, tied it and the dolls pretty securely to her back.
She was of course expected to go with or follow them as usual; but the instant they released her she flew down the stairs, darted out of the open kitchen door, tore across the yard and scaled the fence in a twinkling.
The children pursued at their utmost speed, but Toy was out of sight before they could descend the stairs.
"Well, I never! that 'ar cat must a gone mad," Celestia Ann was saying, standing in the doorway, her hands on her hips, her gaze turned wonderingly in the direction Toy had taken.
