Grandfather and Susan were going on a visit to the Town of Banbury.

They were to stay at the house of Grandfather’s friend, Mr. Spargo, and Susan was delighted at the thought, for once Mr. Spargo had spent a whole week at Featherbed Lane and with him had come his little daughter Letty, just Susan’s age.

Susan remembered the good times they had had together, and now she could scarcely wait for the day to come when she would see Letty Spargo again.

They were going to Banbury, she knew, because Grandfather had a “case” at the Banbury Court-House. Susan thought of this “case” as a big black bag something like the suitcase Grandfather was to carry on the visit. Sometime she meant to ask why he kept a “case” so far away from home in Banbury; but now that question must wait, for she was very busy deciding just which of her belongings she would take with her on the journey.

Susan didn’t trouble her head about dresses; Grandmother would attend to that, she knew. Her difficulty lay in making up her mind which of her toys to take with her, and Grandmother looked with dismay at the pile on Susan’s bed, a pile which, as Susan ran blithely up and down stairs, grew larger with every trip.

“Susan, child,” said Grandmother, “what are your washboard and tub doing on the bed here, and this box of blocks, and your flat-iron? Are you thinking of taking them to Banbury? You will need a Saratoga trunk, if you keep on.”

“I thought Letty would like to see them,” faltered Susan, halting with an armful in the doorway.

“So she will, when she comes to visit you,” answered Grandmother. “It is your turn now to see her toys. And I should leave Flip and Snowball home, too, if I were you. You will be gone only four or five days, a week at the most, you know.”

“I am afraid they will miss me,” said Susan, coming forward to look wistfully at her pile of treasures.

“No, they won’t,” said Grandmother, shaking her head with decision. “They will be all the more glad to see you when you come home again. And they will be company for me, too. You don’t want to leave me entirely alone, do you?”

“Oh, Grandmother!” cried Susan, her tender heart touched. “I don’t want to leave you home alone at all. I won’t go. I won’t go one step.” And she caught Mrs. Whiting’s hand and patted it gently against her cheek.

“Nonsense, Susan,” answered Mrs. Whiting, smiling down upon her granddaughter. “How do you suppose Grandfather would get along without you to take care of him? And I expect to be too busy to be lonely. I hope to finish my braided rug while you are gone.”

So Susan decided that, after all, she would go with Grandfather, and that Grandmother must be left in Flip and Snowball’s special charge.

“Take good care of Grandmother, and be good children yourselves,” whispered she a day or so later, as she ran into the little sewing-room to bid them good-bye. Flip and Snowball had been placed on top of the sewing-machine so that they might easily guard Grandmother as she braided her rug. “Kiss me good-bye and look at my new hat.” And Susan stole an admiring glance in the mirror at her new squirrel cap.

She felt very proud of her cap, with tippet and muff to match, and once on the train she sat up stiff and prim hoping some one would say:

“Who is that good little girl in the squirrel furs?”

But after waiting a whole minute to hear the flattering comment which did not come, Susan turned to look out of the window, and sensibly forgot about herself and her furs as she gazed at the world whirling past.

She was so interested in all she saw that the journey seemed a short one, and she could scarcely believe it was over when Grandfather folded his paper and lifted down the suitcase from the rack over his head.

But there on the platform stood Letty, smiling shyly and holding fast to her father’s hand, and, what seemed really wonderful to Susan, Letty wore a little squirrel cap and tippet and muff like her own.

“We are twins!” cried Susan in an ecstasy of joy, as arm in arm they walked up the street behind Grandfather and Mr. Spargo.

Her eyes were glancing hither and thither as she surveyed the neat red-brick houses, with white front door and glistening white doorstep, each in its own spacious garden plot, that made up street after street in Banbury Town.

“We are real twins,” agreed Letty, her blue eyes shining and her yellow curls dancing as she nodded eagerly at Susan. “And we are going to sleep together; Mother said so. And I asked Annie what was for dinner to-night, but all she would tell me was ‘Brussels sprouts’ and ‘Queen of Puddings.’ You like Queen of Puddings, don’t you?”

Susan admitted that she liked Queen of Puddings. She had never before heard of “Bussels sprouts,” but, if asked, she would willingly have said that she liked them too, so happy was she to be in Banbury and visiting Letty Spargo.

“But I haven’t told you the nicest yet, Susan,” went on Letty, squeezing her visitor’s arm as she talked. “There is going to be a Fair in our church two days after to-morrow, and there is going to be a Blackbird Pie. Mother is going to have it, Mother and Miss Lamb. Miss Lamb is my Sunday-School teacher. And they are making the curtains for it now, red curtains with big blackbirds flying all over them. Now aren’t you glad you came to see me?”

Susan’s head was whirling. What was a blackbird pie, and why should a pie have curtains?

At dinner, Susan discovered that “Bussels sprouts” were like baby cabbages, but it was not until later in the evening that Mrs. Spargo, seeing Susan’s bewilderment at Letty’s talk of the Blackbird Pie, made clear the mystery to her.

“It is not a real pie, Susan,” said she. “It is going to be the largest dishpan we can buy, covered with paper to look like a pie and filled with little articles and toys that cost five or ten cents each. You will pull a string, and out of the pie will come something nice. And the blackbird curtains are to drape the booth. Do you understand?”

Susan smiled up into Mrs. Spargo’s face. Already she felt at home with Letty’s mother. And she liked Letty’s baby, too, a fat, good-natured blue-eyed baby, not quite two years old, who poked his fingers into everything and who never cried no matter how many times he sat down hard on the floor with a thump.

“He is a little bit banty because he is fat. That is why he sits down so hard. But I like babies to be banty,” said Letty loyally.

“I do too,” agreed Susan. “They are much nicer that way.”

The next morning before sun-up, Letty and Susan were awake, both very much surprised to find themselves side by side in bed.

“I knew I was here when I went to sleep,” said Susan, rubbing her eyes and staring round, “but when I woke up I thought I was home.”

“No, you are here,” said Letty, sitting up on top of her pillow as if it were a stool and speaking earnestly. “Now I’ll tell you what I thought, Susan. You know the Fair is only one day after to-morrow now. Don’t you think we ought to begin to save right away so that we can have lots of pulls at the Blackbird Pie? And there will be ice-cream, too, and other good things, I know. Have you any money?”

Susan was as business-like as Letty.

“Yes, plenty,” she answered, slipping out of bed.

And a moment later, she and Letty were gazing into the depths of her little green handbag where shone three bright new ten-cent pieces.

“Good,” said Letty. “Just think how much we can buy with that. Now I haven’t any money at all. But Father comes home to lunch every day, and we will be there to meet him when he comes up the street. I will ask him for some money then, and when he goes back to the office after luncheon I will ask him for more. He will never remember,” said Letty, with a confidence born of experience. “He is a very absent-minded man. My mother herself says so.”

Susan was charmed with this idea.

“Shall we keep it all in my pocketbook?” she asked. Already she could see its green sides bulging with riches.

Letty twisted a curl and pondered.

“No,” she decided at last, “for you might take it out in the street with you and lose it. I’ll show you where we will keep our money.”

And on tiptoe for fear of waking the baby, she crept into the nursery next door and back.

“Here! just the thing,” said she, displaying a little round white jar decorated with a bunch of scarlet holly berries and prickly green leaves.

“We can keep our money in this, because it is mine. No one will touch it. And we will put it on the end of the mantelpiece in the nursery, up high where the baby can’t reach it. Shall we do that?”

In answer, Susan shook her three ten-cent pieces into the jar, and with head on one side admired the effect.

“But if any one looks in he will see the money, and maybe ask what it is for. Then we can’t keep it a secret,” she objected.

Letty, with finger on lip, tiptoed into the nursery again, and returned with a doll’s brown-and-white checked sunbonnet in her hand.

“It belongs to the baby’s doll, Lolly,” said she. “I just snatched up the first thing I could find. We will stuff it into the jar on top of the money, and if people see it, they will think we have left it there careless-like.”

The sunbonnet was tucked into the jar, and the little girls felt perfectly sure that no one would suspect the presence of money under it.

“It does look put there careless-like, doesn’t it?” repeated Letty.

She liked to use those words which she had borrowed from Annie the cook. Many times had she heard Annie say, “I think I’ll toss off a pudding, careless-like, for dinner,” or, “I’ll give the room a little dusting, careless-like, before your mother comes home,” and she admired the turn of expression.

At noon that day, on his way home to luncheon, Mr. Spargo was warmly greeted by Letty and Susan halfway down the block and escorted to his own door. Upon Letty’s whispering in his ear, he slipped two ten-cent pieces into her hand.

“One for each of you,” said he, good-naturedly tweaking Letty’s nose, red in the sharp November wind.

When he came out an hour or so later, he was in a hurry, and in answer to Letty’s murmur he dropped a handful of small coins into her outstretched palm, and hastily departed without waiting for the chorus of thanks that followed him down the street and round the corner.

“Four pennies, two fives, and a quarter. As sure as I live, a quarter!” counted Letty. “Oh, Susan, Susan!” And flinging their arms about one another, the little girls hopped joyously about until Susan tripped and went down in a heap.

The girls found it hard to keep away from the little holly jar. The money was taken out and counted over and over each time the nursery was found unoccupied save by placid Johnny, who innocently played with his shabby Lolly or ran unsteadily about the room, bumping down and picking himself up undisturbed.

“Only to-day, and then to-morrow is the Fair,” said Letty the next morning. “We must be sure not to miss Father at noon.”

But to-day, of all days, Mr. Spargo did not come home to luncheon at all. He and Mr. Whiting were both busy with the mysterious “case” at Banbury Court-House.

Letty and Susan consoled themselves by counting the money and planning what they would buy with it.

“And there is still to-morrow before we go to the Fair,” suggested Susan hopefully. “When are we going to tell, and show the bowlful? Maybe Grandfather will give us more when he hears about it.”

Susan enjoyed having a secret with Letty, but she wanted to share it with Grandfather, too.

“We will tell when we are ready to start for the Fair,” answered Letty firmly, “and not a minute before. You never can tell what will happen.”

But this plan was not carried out. Letty little knew how truly she spoke when she said “you never can tell what will happen.”

The next day, the great Day of the Fair, the money was counted the first thing in the morning, as soon as Johnny had had his bath and Mrs. Spargo had left the room.

“Five tens, one quarter, two fives, and four pennies!” Susan and Letty had said it so often that they could repeat it backward. It had grown to be a chant that rang in their ears.

Half an hour later they stole back to count it again.

“Look,” said Susan, stooping in the middle of the room. She held out the little brown-and-white sunbonnet that had hidden the money so “careless-like.”

Letty ran to the mantelpiece. The jar was gone!

For an instant she and Susan stared at one another. Then they ran wildly about the room looking in every nook and corner for the missing jar, much to baby Johnny’s entertainment. He sat on the floor sucking his fingers, and he laughed and chuckled and kicked his heels up and down as he watched the exertions of his sister and her friend.

“Here it is,” called Letty at last. “By the doll’s bed.” And from under the bed, where slumbered Lolly face downward, out rolled the little holly jar.

“But where is the money?” demanded Letty. Her first fright over, she was growing angry.

“There is something in Johnny’s mouth,” announced Susan.

With a practiced hand, Letty put her finger into the baby’s mouth and out came the quarter.

“Oh, you! You!” cried Letty. Her face grew pink and she gave Johnny a shake that sent him backward upon the floor.

Treated so unkindly and robbed of his new plaything, Johnny burst into a wail that brought his mother hurrying to his side.

While she listened to Susan and Letty, who both talked at once in their excitement, Mrs. Spargo was feeling carefully in Johnny’s mouth and, when at last she spoke, she said:

“The first thing to do is to find the money, for until we do I shall be afraid that Johnny has swallowed some of it. Do you know how much you had?”

“Five tens, one quarter, two fives, and four pennies,” answered Susan and Letty in a breath.

Mrs. Spargo smiled.

“Here is the quarter,” said she. “Now we must all hunt for the rest of the money.”

“How did Johnny reach up to the mantelpiece?” demanded Letty. “We have to stretch and stretch, and we put the jar there on purpose because it was so high.”

Mrs. Spargo pointed to a chair, and Johnny, taking the hint, in a short time, in spite of his bandy legs, had hitched and pulled himself up until he stood upon the seat. He laughed and clapped his hands and made a sudden spring at his mother who caught him just in time to save him from a fall.

“Rascal,” said she, patting him on the back as he clung to her. “That is how he did it. Now we must all look for the money.”

It was surprising the number of places Johnny Spargo had contrived to hide the money.

Four ten-cent pieces were found in Letty’s doll carriage; three pennies were under the rug; one five-cent piece was on the window-sill; the other in the express wagon. But one penny and a ten-cent piece were still missing.

“Oh, Johnny, did you swallow them?” asked Mrs. Spargo.

But Johnny, not being able to talk, only laughed and hid his face in his mother’s neck.

Susan and Letty were crawling about the floor on their hands and knees when Mrs. Spargo had a bright thought.

She unbuttoned Johnny’s little brown shoe, and there, tucked in the side, was the penny.

“Now only the ten cents is lacking,” said Mrs. Spargo. “How happy I shall be if we find it and I know he has not swallowed it.”

But it seemed as though the ten-cent piece was not to be found. Everything was turned upside down and shaken, furniture was moved, corners were brushed out, but no piece of money came to light.

At last Susan and Letty dismantled the doll’s bed, and vigorously shook and flapped each little sheet and blanket. Letty fell upon the pillows and beat them violently, while Susan rescued poor Lolly from under foot, and, holding her out of the baby’s reach, danced her up and down to Johnny’s great delight.

He stretched out his hands for his dolly, and just then Susan gave a cry of joy.

“I’ve found it! It’s here! It’s inside Lolly. Feel! Feel! It’s here!”

Sure enough, through a hole in poor old Lolly’s back Johnny had poked the ten-cent piece, and there it lay embedded in dolly’s soft cotton inside.

“I’m so glad,” said Mrs. Spargo, “and so relieved. I felt that it simply must be found, and now here it is. My precious Johnny! You didn’t swallow it after all.”

And Mrs. Spargo hugged Johnny as if he had done something very wonderful indeed, instead of turning his nursery topsy-turvy for half an hour.

“I feel the same way,” confided Letty to Susan in a low voice, “for I didn’t know what kind of a time we would have at the Fair to-night if we didn’t find that ten-cent piece.”