hour the transgressors had all the fish they wanted, so they returned to the house, much to Dora’s relief. She sat primly on a hencoop in the yard while the others played an uproarious game of tag; and then they all climbed to the top of the pig-house roof and cut their initials on the saddleboard. The flat-roofed henhouse and a pile of straw beneath gave Davy another inspiration. They spent a splendid half hour climbing on the roof and diving off into the straw with whoops and yells.
But even unlawful pleasures must come to an end. When the rumble of wheels over the pond bridge told that people were going home from church Davy knew they must go. He discarded Tommy’s overalls, resumed his own rightful attire, and turned away from his string of trout with a sigh. No use to think of taking them home.
“Well, hadn’t we a splendid time?” he demanded defiantly, as they went down the hill field.
“I hadn’t,” said Dora flatly. “And I don’t believe you had—really—either,” she added, with a flash of insight that was not to be expected of her.
“I had so,” cried Davy, but in the voice of one who doth protest too much. “No wonder you hadn’t—just sitting there like a—like a mule.”
“I ain’t going to, ’sociate with the Cottons,” said Dora loftily.
“The Cottons are all right,” retorted Davy. “And they have far better times than we have. They do just as they please and say just what they like be-
