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“No; I fink she ought to eat canary-seed and fish-bone,” chirped in Dorothea.

Dorothea was only five, and this from her was so funny that even Meg laughed.

“An’ Buddy says he knows she sleeps perched on the towel-rack, ’cause they ain’t a sign of a bed in her room.”

The three youngest were fairly choking with laughter now. But the older ones had soon grown quite serious in consulting about all the details of the matter, and even making out a conditional list of guests.

When they came to the fortune-teller, both Ethel and Conrad hesitated, but Meg, true to her first impulse, had soon put down opposition by a single argument.

“It seems to me she’s the special one to invite to a Christmas party like ours,” she pleaded. “The lonesomer an’ horrider they are, the more they belong, an’ the more they’ll enjoy it, too.”

“Accordin’ to that,” said Conrad, “the whole crowd ought to have a dizzy good time, for they’re about as fine a job lot of lonesomes as I ever struck. And as for beauty! ‘Vell, my y’ung vriends, how you was to-morrow?'” he continued, thrusting his thumbs into his armholes and strutting in imitation of the old Professor.

Meg was almost out of patience. “Do hush, Buddy, an’ let’s talk business. First of all, we have to put it to vote to see whether we want to have the party or not.”

“I ain’t a-goin’ to give my money to no such a ugly ol’ party,” cried Felix. “I want pretty little girls with curls an’ wreafs on to my party.”

“An’ me, too. I want a heap o’ pretty little girls with curls an’ wreafs on– to my party,” echoed Felicie.

“An’ I want a organ-grinder to the party that gets my half o’ our picayunes,” insisted Felix.

“Yas, us wants a organ-grinder–an’ a monkey, too–hey, F’lix?”

“Yes, an’ a monkey, too. Heap o’ monkeys!”

Meg was indeed having a hard time of it.

“You see, Conrad”–the use of that name meant reproof from Meg–“you see, Conrad, this all comes from your makin’ fun of everybody. But of course we can get an organ-grinder if the little ones want him.”

Ethel still seemed somewhat doubtful about the whole affair. Ethel was in the high-school. She had a lofty bridge to her nose. She was fifteen, and she never left off her final g’s as the others did. These are, no doubt, some of the reasons why she was regarded as a sort of superior person in the family. If it had not been for the prospect of painting the cards, and a certain feeling of benevolence in the matter, it would have been hard for her to agree to the party at all. As it was, her voice had a note of mild protest as she said:

“It’s going to cost a good deal, Meg. How much money have we? Let’s count up. I have a dollar and eighty-five cents.”

“And I’ve got two dollars,” said Meg.

“How is it you always save the most? I haven’t saved but ninety cents.” Conrad spoke with a little real embarrassment as he laid his little pile of coins upon the table.

“I reckon it’s ’cause I’ve got a regular plan, Buddy. I save a dime out of every dollar I get all through the year. It’s the best way. And how much have you ponies got?”

“We’ve got seventy cents together, an’ we’ve been a-whiskerin’ in our ears about it, too. We don’t want our money put-ed in the dinner with the rest. We want to see what we are givin’.”

“Well, suppose you buy the fruit. Seventy cents ‘ll get bananas and oranges enough for the whole party.”

“An’ us wants to buy ’em ourselfs, too–hey, F’lix?”

“Yes, us wants to buy ‘m ourselfs, too.”

“And so you shall. And now all in favor of the party hold up their right hands.”

All hands went up.

“Contr’ry, no!” Meg continued.