Elizabeth Ann—the famous little question mark, as Uncle Doctor had once jokingly called her—thought of several things she wanted to know. She remembered the taken boy the man had been hunting for when he met Uncle Hiram the day before. She wondered whether Roger Calendar could be that boy. She wanted to know if people called him a “varmint.” She wanted to know——

But Uncle Hiram had overheard Catherine’s remark. And if Elizabeth Ann and Doris had ever wondered whether he could be really cross, they knew the answer now. Uncle Hiram was not at all pleased.

“I don’t know what your father would say, Kitty, if he heard you make a remark like that,” said Uncle Hiram. “Roger Calendar is a fine boy in every respect. I hope the other pupils in school don’t feel toward him as you do.”

“Oh, no one pays any attention to him,” Catherine replied. “He keeps to himself. I guess he doesn’t feel just right among the rest of us. I don’t think the Bostwicks ought to send him to school, but Mr. Bostwick told my father he had to; there’s a law that all children have to be educated.”

“It’s a pity there isn’t a law that says all children have to be taught kindness and politeness,” said Uncle Hiram. “I hope Elizabeth Ann and Doris will have too much sense to follow your example.”

Catherine Gould didn’t seem abashed. She merely smiled a little, as though Uncle Hiram was mistaken about her. Then she told Elizabeth Ann that she would stop for her and Doris the next morning “in time to get the bus,” and went out of the store. Elizabeth Ann saw her cross the street and get into a beautiful dark blue car—a much larger and handsomer car than Uncle Hiram’s.

“Isn’t she pretty!” said Doris wistfully. “And did you see her dress? I wanted a new dress, but Mother said I’d better wait till Christmas time.”

“I don’t like her so much,” Elizabeth Ann declared.

“Catherine is a nice girl,” said Uncle Hiram who had wonderful hearing and seldom missed a word. “She’s a fine girl, in many ways; but her father is the wealthiest man in this township, and Catherine is the only child and I’m afraid she is a little spoiled. No one but a silly, spoiled girl would talk as she does about Roger Calendar.”

“Is he the taken boy who was lost?” asked Elizabeth Ann quickly.

“Oh, my, no,” Uncle Hiram answered. “That poor boy must live many miles away from us. I never saw the man before who was searching for him. Roger Calendar lives with the Bostwicks whose land adjoins ours on one side. The Goulds live on the other side. Catherine and Roger must go in to school every morning on the same bus, when school is in session; I don’t like to think of her being rude to him.” As it happened, Elizabeth Ann and Doris had a chance to become acquainted with Roger Calendar on the way home. Uncle Hiram came up with him about half a mile out of town, and offered him a “lift.”

“You children want to know each other,” said Uncle Hiram, as Roger climbed into the seat beside him. “Elizabeth Ann and Doris, this is Roger Calendar who is our neighbor; and Roger, these are my nieces. They start school to-morrow, and if they’re late for the bus you let me know. I don’t let anyone on my ship get tardy marks more than once.”

Roger smiled a little shyly at the two girls. He had a friendly face and nice dark eyes and hair. But his clothes were terribly patched and Elizabeth Ann didn’t wonder he was ashamed of his shoes. She caught a glimpse of them, patched with great squares of different colored leather, before Roger seemed to suddenly remember them, and then he thrust his feet out of sight, under the seat as far as they would go.

“You’ll be on time all right, if Cathy Gould calls for you,” said Roger. “Hardly anyone is late, anyway, because if you miss the bus you never can walk to school in time for the nine o’clock bell. The only thing to do is to turn around and go home and be marked absent for a day.”

When they reached the road that led to the Bostwick farm, Roger insisted he must get out.

“I’ll drive you all the way in,” offered Uncle Hiram. “I have plenty of time. That package you are carrying is too heavy for a boy your size, anyway. Better let me take you right up to the barn door, Roger.”

“No, please,” Roger said, getting out of the car so hastily that he almost tripped. “You’re awfully good, Mr. Kent, but Mr. Bostwick doesn’t like me to take rides. He wouldn’t like it if he saw you bringing me home.”

“What did I tell you about calling me Mr. Kent?” said Uncle Hiram in his crossest voice.

“I forgot—I honestly did,” Roger apologized. “I meant to say ‘Uncle Hiram.’ Good-by, Uncle Hiram, and thank you a lot for the lift. Good-by, Elizabeth Ann and Doris—see you in school to-morrow.” He lifted the heavy package that pulled him over sideways when he carried it, and almost ran down the road to the Bostwick farm.

“Does everyone call you Uncle Hiram?” asked Elizabeth Ann curiously.

“Just about everybody,” Uncle Hiram assured her, smiling. “Your Aunt Grace and I long ago made up our minds that we’d have nephews and nieces by the dozen and we seem to have them.”

Tony was still on the front stoop of the Bonnie Susie when they reached home. But he consented to follow Elizabeth Ann and Doris out to the corn field. They wanted to see the corn being cut and Uncle Hiram said it was high time they saw the farm.

The tenant farmer, whose name was Mr. Lawton, and his two sons were cutting corn, and Elizabeth Ann and Doris watched them for a while as they went up and down the long rows. Tony caught a field mouse and was so pleased with himself that Elizabeth Ann scolded him, and told him he was vain.

“You run up to the house, and see my wife,” said Mr. Lawton, the first time he stopped long enough to talk to them, “and she’ll show you what she has been doing this morning and, likely as not she’ll give you a sample. Mother likes to give away samples.”

Uncle Hiram wanted to stay in the field and as Elizabeth Ann and Doris could see the farmhouse from where they stood, there was no reason why they couldn’t go alone to call on Mrs. Lawton. Elizabeth Ann thought she would be surprised to see them, but when they rang the old-fashioned pull bell and a stout, pink-cheeked woman came to the door, she didn’t look at all surprised to see two little girls on her door step.

“You’re the two little nieces Mrs. Kent has been expecting, aren’t you?” she said pleasantly. “I’m Mrs. Lawton, of course. Come right in. If you don’t mind coming into the kitchen, I can finish putting the labels on my jelly.”

Mrs. Lawton’s kitchen was most pleasant, though not, Elizabeth Ann decided, quite as nice as Aunt Grace’s kitchen which Uncle Hiram would call the galley. But the Lawton kitchen was large, and there was a great fire in the range and oh, my, how deliciously the room did smell.

“I’ve made forty glasses of grape jelly this morning,” said Mrs. Lawton proudly. “I’d like you to try some on bread and butter; I always think jelly tastes better on bread and butter than any other way you can eat it. And I’ll be writing my labels while you eat.”

She cut two perfectly huge slices from a loaf of fine white home-made bread, and spread each of them thickly with butter. Then she covered the butter with sparkling grape jelly, and put the bread on two blue and white plates.

“See if you don’t like that,” she said.

Elizabeth Ann and Doris thought the jelly was the best they had ever tasted. And while Mrs. Lawton wrote “Grape Jelly” on a lot of little red and white labels and pasted them on the glasses she had filled, Elizabeth Ann told her about the jam and jelly she had seen in the cellar of the restaurant; also how the strange woman had mistaken her for Esther, and had punished her with the ruler.

“Well, I think that was a shame,” said Mrs. Lawton, “and I’ll give you a glass of jelly for yourself, to help you forget that experience. And here’s a glass for Doris, too.”

When Elizabeth Ann and Doris showed Aunt Grace the jelly, she said they should have it in their sandwiches for school the next day. That made both little girls feel as though school time was very near; and when they went to bed early that night in order to be ready for their walk in the morning, they said they knew they would stay awake and think about the new school. They didn’t, of course, but went straight to sleep like sensible children, and were very much surprised to be awakened by Aunt Grace the next morning, and told that it was time to get dressed to go to school.