It was several days before the children went to "Breezy Inn" again, but one pleasant sunshiny morning found them climbing the new ladder as gayly as if no unpleasant experience were connected with its memory.

Carter had cleaned up the veranda, though powder marks still showed in some places.

"Why, girls," exclaimed Marjorie, "here's our pennyroyal extract! I had forgotten every single thing about it. The high old time we had that day swept it all out of my head."

"I remembered it," said Molly, "but I thought it had to extract itself for a week."

"No, four days is enough. It must be done now; it smells so, anyway."

The girls all sniffed at the pails of spicy-smelling water, and, after wisely dipping their fingers in it and sniffing at them, they concluded it was done.

"It's beautiful," said Marjorie; "I think it's a specially fine extract, and we'll have no trouble in selling heaps of it. Don't let's tell anybody until we've made a whole lot of money; and then we'll tell Grandma it's for the Dunns, and she'll be so surprised to think we could do it."

"Where are the bottles?" asked Stella. "I can finish up the labels, while you girls are filling the bottles and tying the corks in."

"Let's tie kid over the top," suggested Molly, "like perfume bottles, you know. You just take the wrists of old kid gloves and tie them on with a little ribbon, and then snip the edges all around like they snip the edges of a pie."

"Lovely!" cried Midget, "and now I'll tell you what: let's all go home and get a lot of bottles and corks and old kid gloves and ribbons and everything, and then come back here and fix the bottles up right now."

"You two go," said Stella, who was already absorbed in the work of making labels; "that will give me time to do these things. They're going to be awfully pretty."

So Midge and Molly scampered off to their homes, and rummaged about for the materials they wanted.

They had no trouble in finding them, for the elder people in both houses were accustomed to odd demands from the children, and in less than half an hour the girls were back again, each with a basket full of bottles, old gloves, and bits of ribbon.

"Did your mother ask you what you wanted them for?" said Mops to Molly.

"No; she just told me where they were, in a cupboard in the attic; and told me to get what I wanted and not bother her, because she was making jelly."

"I got mine from Eliza, so Grandma doesn't know anything about it; and now we can keep it secret, and have a lovely surprise."

What might have seemed work, had they been doing it for some one else, was play to the children then; and Midge and Molly carefully strained their precious extract from the leaves and bottled it and corked it with care. They tied neatly the bits of old gloves over the corks, though it was not an easy task, and when finished did not present quite the appearance of daintily-topped perfume bottles.

And Stella's labels, though really good work for a little girl of eleven, were rather amateurish. But the three business partners considered the labels admirable works of art, and pasted them on the bottles with undisguised pride. Though pennyroyal was spelled with one n, they didn't notice it, and the finished wares seemed to them a perfect result of skilled labor.

"Now," said Marjorie, as she sat with her chin in her hands, gazing proudly at the tableful of bottles, "it's dinner-time. Let's all go home, and then this afternoon, after we're dressed, let's come here and get the bottles, and each take a basketful, and go and sell them."

"We'll all go together, won't we?" asked Stella, whose shyness stood sadly in the way of her being a successful saleswoman.

"Yes, if you like," said Marjorie; "we'd get along faster by going separately; but it will be more fun to go together, so that's what we'll do."

About two o'clock, the three met again at "Breezy Inn." Each was freshly attired in a spick-and-span clean gingham, and they wore large shade hats.

"I thought Grandma would suspect something when I put my hat on," said Marjorie, "because I always race out here without any, but, by good luck, she didn't see me."

"Mother asked me where I was going," said Molly, "and I told her to 'Breezy Inn.' It almost seemed deceitful, but I think, as we're working for charity, it's all right. You know you mustn't let your left hand know what your right hand is up to."

"That isn't what that means," said Stella, who was a conscientious little girl; and, indeed, they all were, for though inclined to mischief, Midge and Molly never told stories, even by implication.

"But I think it's all right," went on Stella, earnestly, "because it's a surprise. You know Christmas or Valentine's day, it's all right to surprise people, even if you have to 'most nearly deceive them."

And so with no qualms of their honest little hearts, the three started off gayly to peddle their dainty wares for the cause of charity.

"Let's go straight down to the village," suggested Molly, "and let's stop at every house on the way,—there aren't very many,—and then when we get where the houses are thicker we can go separately if we want to."

"I don't want to," insisted Stella; "I'll stay with one of you, anyway."

"All right," said Midget, "and we'll take turns in doing the talking.
This is Mrs. Clarke's house; shall I talk here?"

"Yes," said Molly, "and I'll help you; and if Stella doesn't want to say anything, she needn't."

The three girls with their baskets skipped along the flower-bordered walk to Mrs. Clarke's front door and rang the bell. The white-capped maid, who answered the door, listened to their inquiries for Mrs. Clarke, looked curiously at the bottles, and then said: "Mrs. Clarke is not at home."

"Are you sure?" said Marjorie, in a despairing voice. It seemed dreadful to lose a sale because the lady chanced to be out.

"Yes," said the maid shortly, and closed the door in the very faces of the disappointed children.

Troubled, but not disheartened, the girls walked back along the path, a little less gayly, and trudged on to the next house.

Here the lady herself opened the door.

"Do you want to buy some pennyroyal extract?" began Marjorie, a little timidly, for the expression on the lady's face was not at all cordial.

"It's fine," broke in Molly, who saw that Midge needed her support; "it's lovely for mosquito bites, you just rub it on and they're all gone!"

The lady seemed to look a little interested, and Stella being honestly anxious to do her share, so far conquered her timidity as to say in a faint little voice, "We made it ourselves."

"Made it yourselves?" exclaimed the lady. "No, indeed, I don't want any!" And again the cruel door was closed upon the little saleswomen.

"It was my fault," wailed Stella, as they went away with a crestfallen air; "if I hadn't said we made it ourselves, she would have bought it. Oh, girls, let me go home and make labels. I don't like this selling, much."

Midge and Molly both felt sure that it was Stella's speech that had stopped the sale, but they were too polite to say so, and Midge answered:

"Never mind, Stella dear, I don't think she was very anxious for it, anyway, but, perhaps, at the next house you needn't say anything. You don't mind, do you?"

"Mind! No, indeed! I only said that to help along, and it didn't help."

So, at the next house, Stella was glad to stand demurely in the background, and this time Molly took her turn at introducing the subject.

A young lady was in a hammock on the veranda, and as they went up the steps she rose to greet them.

"What in the world have you there?" she said, gayly, flinging down the book she was reading and looking at the children with interest.

"Pennyroyal extract," said Molly, "perfectly fine for mosquito bites, bruises, cuts, scarlet fever, colds, coughs, or measles."

The young lady seemed to think it very amusing, and sitting down on the top step, began to laugh.

"It must be, indeed, handy to have in the house," she said; "where did you get it?"

The girls were dismayed. If they said they made it themselves, probably she wouldn't buy any. They looked at each other uncertainly, and said nothing.

"I hope you came by it honestly," went on the young lady, looking at them in surprise; "you couldn't have—of course, you didn't—"

"Of course we didn't steal it!" cried Molly, indignantly, "if that's what you mean. It's ours, our very own, every drop of it! But—we don't want to tell you where we got it."

"It sounds delightfully mysterious," said the young lady, still smiling very much, "and I don't really care where you did get it. Of course I want some, as it seems to be a very useful article, and I'm quite liable to attacks of—measles."

Marjorie looked up quickly to see if this very pretty young lady was not making fun of them, but she seemed to be very much in earnest, and, indeed, was already selecting a bottle from each of the three baskets.

"I'll take these three," she said; "how much are they?"

The girls looked at each other. Not once had it occurred to them to consider what price they were to ask, and what to say they did not know.

"Why," began Marjorie, "I should think—"

"Twenty-five cents apiece," said Molly, decidedly. She knew it was a large price, considering that the extract cost nothing, but she wanted to swell the charity funds.

"Well, that's very reasonable," said the young lady, who still seemed very much amused; "I will give you the money at once," and she took some change from a little gold purse which hung at her belt. "But if I may advise you," she went on, "you'd better raise your price. That's really too cheap for this most useful article."

The children were so astonished at this speech that they made no reply, except to thank the kind young lady, and bid her good-by.

"Now, THAT'S something like!" exclaimed Marjorie, as they reached the road again. "Wasn't she lovely? And to think, she said we ought to ask more money for the extract! This is a splendid business."

"Fine!" agreed Molly; "we'll sell off all this to-day, and to-morrow we'll make another lot and sell that. We'll get lots of money for the Dunns."

"We'll make more next time," said Midge, "and I'll get Carter to drive us round so we won't have to carry it; for we may sell two or three hundred bottles every day."

"But I can't make so many labels," said Stella, aghast at the outlook.

"Of course you can't," said Molly; "but I'll tell you what! We'll ask them to give the bottles back as soon as they've emptied them, and then we can use them over again, you know."

Midge was a little dubious about asking for the bottles back, but just then they turned into the next house.

It was Marjorie's turn to speak, and greatly encouraged by their late success, she began: "Would you like to buy some pennyroyal extract? For mosquitoes, burns, and bruises. It's only fifty cents a bottle, and we'll take the bottles back."

The lady, who had opened the door, looked at the children as if they were escaped lunatics.

"Don't come around here playing your tricks on me," she exclaimed; "I won't stand it. Take your bottles and be off!"

She did not shut the door upon them, but so irate was her expression that the girls were glad to go away.

"Wasn't she awful!" exclaimed Stella, with a troubled face. "Truly, girls, I don't like this. I'm going home."

"No, you're not, either!" said Marjorie. "Of course, it isn't all pleasant, but when you're working for charity, you mustn't mind that. And, besides, like as not the people at the next house will be lovely."

But they weren't; and one after another the people, to whom they offered their wares, refused even to look at them.

At last, when they were well-nigh discouraged, a kind lady, to whom they offered the extract, seemed a little more interested than the others.

"Why," she said, looking at Stella, "aren't you Guy Martin's little girl?"

"Yes'm," said Stella, meekly, wondering if this fact would interfere with the sale of the goods.

"Well, then, I must surely buy some," said the lady, smiling; "how much is it?"

"Fifty cents a bottle, if you give the bottle back," said Stella, who felt that the lady's friendliness toward her demanded that she should answer?

"Fifty cents a bottle!" exclaimed the lady. "Surely you can't mean that! Why, pennyroyal extract isn't worth a cent a quart!"

The girls looked genuinely disturbed. This was a different opinion, indeed, from that advanced by the pretty lady who had bought three bottles!

Marjorie suddenly began to feel as if she were doing something very foolish, and something which she ought not to have undertaken without Grandma's advice.

"Is that all it's worth, truly?" she asked, looking straightforwardly into the lady's eyes.

"Why, yes, my dear,—I'm sure it could not have a higher market value."

"Then we don't want to sell you any," said Marjorie, whose sense of honesty was aroused; and picking up her basket from the porch, she turned toward the street, walking fast, and holding her head high in the air, while her cheeks grew very red.

Molly followed her, uncertain as to what to do next, and Stella trailed along behind, a dejected little figure, indeed, with her heavy basket on her arm.