There was mutiny in the Burnam household. It had broken out the night before, when Vic was saying his prayers in the presence of Mrs. Pennypoker, who was supposed to be temporarily filling his mother’s place. At the petition for daily bread, Vic had stopped short.

“Go on,” said Mrs. Pennypoker, in slow, measured tones.

Victor opened his eyes and glared at her with undevout opposition.

“Don’t want bread,” he said firmly. “Vic likes biskies.”

“It means the same thing, Victor,” answered Mrs. Pennypoker, in her hard voice. “Now be a good little boy and finish your prayer, or God won’t listen to you, another time, when you are asking him for something.”

It was then that Vic had delivered himself of his first baby heresy, which had been slowly working in his brain while Mrs. Pennypoker had been urging him through his devotions, in a manner so unlike the tender gentleness of his pretty mamma.

“I don’t like your God,” he said deliberately, as he gazed up into the cold, dark eyes above him; “I don’t like your God a bit; I’m tired of him. I want my mamma’s.” And, rising from his knees, he dived into bed, where he burst out sobbing for mamma; nor would he be quieted until Mrs. Pennypoker had left the room, and sent Allie up to comfort her baby brother with repeated assurances that mamma would come by and by.

Two days before this, Mrs. Burnam had received a note from her husband, saying that a fall from his horse had bruised and strained him a little, and that it seemed best for him to stay a few days at a small country hotel, not far from his camp. In reality, it was only a slight affair; but Mrs. Burnam had felt so uneasy that she had resolved to go to him, to be at hand in case he might need any of the little attentions which it would be hard for him to get, in the small town where he was left. Since Victor would be only an additional care, she had decided not to take him with her; but, remembering the emergency which had arisen during her last absence, she had begged Mrs. Pennypoker to take charge of the household for the time that she was away from home.

This arrangement had not met with the entire approval of the young people, it must be confessed; for Howard and Allie had hoped to be allowed to pose as heads of the house, while Victor had lifted up his voice in vigorous protest against the intruder. However, until Victor’s rebellion, the second night, there had been no open outbreak, although there was an undercurrent of antagonism between Mrs. Pennypoker and the children, which threatened an explosion at any moment. It was a new experience for Howard and Allie to have their fun and laughter repressed, and they were far from being ready to submit to it with a good grace; while Janey had promptly ranged herself upon their side, and manifested a monkey-like ingenuity in planning the pranks which were making Mrs. Pennypoker’s frown grow deeper at every moment.

“Just look at Janey!” Howard had whispered to his sister, as the maid came in at dinner-time, with the strings of her dainty white cap tied under her chin, and the point standing up from her forehead like an old woman’s poke bonnet.

Mrs. Pennypoker caught the whisper. Putting on her glasses, she turned to glare at Janey, who received her stare with an unmoved countenance.

“Jane,” she said, with crushing dignity; “go back to the kitchen, and arrange your cap properly.”

And Janey went, but it was not until she had given the two boys a look which upset their gravity and forced them to retire behind their napkins. She was gone for some moments, and when she reappeared her cap was drawn far down over her face, and she came tiptoeing in with short, mincing steps, to go through her serving with an exaggerated elegance, bowing and smirking and flourishing her tray, with all the airs and graces at her command. However, there was nothing to be done about it, and Mrs. Pennypoker was forced to be content with ignoring her for the present, while she frowned down any demonstrations of amusement on the part of the children. The rest of the meal was hurried through in silence, and as soon as it was over the young people shut themselves up in Allie’s room, to vent their indignation by talking over the events of the past two days.

“You don’t catch anybody getting in ahead of Janey, though,” said Howard with a chuckle. “She’s a match for even Mrs. Pennypoker.”

“I’m ’most afraid she’ll get mad and go off,” said Allie anxiously. “Mrs. Pennypoker has just been nagging at her all day long, and Janey won’t put up with it. She isn’t used to it, as Wang Kum is.”

“Even Wang Kum kicked, the other day,” said Charlie, sitting down on the footboard of the bed, and swinging his heels while he talked. “Grant told me about it. Wang made a mistake and threw away all her soup she’d made, just before dinner; and when she scolded him for it, he said he ’t’ought ‘twas dish-water.’ She gave him fits, scolded like everything, till all at once he drew himself up and said: ’Old lady scold heap much; Wang no be bossed by hens.’ And he turned and walked off, and left her standing there, with her mouth wide open.”

“Good enough for her!” applauded Howard. “I only hope Janey’ll serve her the same way.”

“I don’t believe I do,” said Allie thoughtfully. “She’s here, and we’ll have to make the best of her. But don’t you pity Ned and Grant, to have to stand her all the time?”

The predicted explosion was not slow in coming. Charlie had come in after his lessons, the next morning, clasping a huge watermelon in his arms, and, without a word to Mrs. Pennypoker, he had carried it through to the kitchen.

“Here, Janey,” he called; “I’m awfully hungry, and if you’ll cut this up for us to eat now, before lunch, I’ll give you a quarter of it. You’d better do it, for it’s the last one you’ll get this year.”

With the zeal of her melon-loving race, Janey’s eyes glistened, as she received the treasure.

“Dat’s a gay one, Mars’ Charlie!” she exclaimed, as she snapped her fingers against its green rind, and listened delightedly to the clear, crisp sound. “Janey’ll cut it right up for you, befo’ she sets de table or anything. You all likes melons so well, you ought to see ’em we has down Souf. Reckon you’d jus’ about bu’st you’selves, eatin’ ’em.”

She gave the melon one more ecstatic embrace, and dandled it fondly in her arms for a moment; then she laid it carefully down on the table, while she went for a knife.

“’Wa-a-atermelon!
Green rind, red meat;
All juicy, so sweet.
Dem dat has money mus’ come up an’ buy;
And dem dat hasn’t mus’ stan’ back an’ cry
Wa-a-a-atermelon!’”

She crooned to herself, as she returned with the knife in her hand, and stuck it in, clear to the heart of the fruit before her.

“What’s that, Janey?” asked Allie, who had followed Charlie out into the kitchen.

“Dat? Dat’s a song I done heard an ol’ man singin’, one day. He had some melons to sell, out on de corner by my mudder’s house, an’ he kep’ a singin’ it ober an’ ober. Ah, dat’s a fine one!” she added contentedly, as the rich red heart of the melon appeared. She paused for a moment, then she cocked her head on one side, as she gazed rapturously at the great piece which Charlie offered her. “You all know how me an’ my brudder use’ to eat our melons, when mammy wan’ roun’ to smack us?” she inquired suddenly.

“How’d you do it?” asked Charlie, laughing.

“Dis way. See?” And clutching the piece in both hands, she buried her face in it, and began to devour it, much as a squirrel gnaws the meat out of a walnut.

So absorbed was she in her enjoyment of her feast, that she did not hear the door open and Mrs. Pennypoker come into the kitchen.

“Jane!” said the strong voice.

Janey started at the sound, and choked on a seed.

“Yes, mis’,” she responded as soon as she could speak, while she raised her head from the rind.

“What are you doing?” demanded Mrs. Pennypoker sternly.

Her manner was not encouraging. There was a defiant flash in Janeys eyes, as she said sullenly,

“Öl’ mis’ done got eyes. What she s’pose I’s doin’?”

“But I told you to get the lunch.”

“I was goin’ to, in a minute; but Mars’ Charlie done wanted me to cut his melon, an’ I thought ’twouldn’t make no difference.”

“You are not here to think; you are here to do the work,” said Mrs. Pennypoker magisterially. “If I tell you to do something, you must do it.”

At the last words, Janey drew herself up to her full height and glared at Mrs. Pennypoker. Something in the unconscious dignity of her figure, as she stood there, seemed to dwarf her temporary mistress into insignificance.

“You cyarn’ say mus’ to me,” she said in a slow, repressed tone. “Dese ain’ no slave days, an ol’ mis’ cyarn’ make ’em so. I ain’ no heathen an’ I ain’ no slave. My mammy bought herself an’ her husban’, an’ we’s all freeborn.”

She had moved forward a step or two, and thrown out her hand, while her eyes gleamed with an angry luster. Suddenly she controlled herself.

“I sha’n’ say no mo’,” she went on slowly; “’cause I might forget myself an’ be sassy, an’ I don’ wan’ to do dat. But ol’ mis’ better not interfere with me, an’ say mus’, or I’ll pack my trunk an’ not come back till Mrs. Burnam comes home. She buys my time, an’ while I’m yere I belongs to her; but she don’ bully me. She’s a lady like what we use’ ter have down Souf, befo’ de war; not like you Yankees.”

Into her final sentence Janey had compressed all the scorn of which she was capable. For a moment longer, she stood facing Mrs. Pennypoker; then, turning on her heel, she left the room.

Mrs. Pennypoker was the first one of the group to come to her senses.

“That girl shall leave the house to-night,” she exclaimed angrily. “I won’t have her here an hour longer.”

“You aren’t going to send Janey off!” demanded Allie indignantly.

“I certainly shall not keep her after what has occurred,” returned Mrs. Pennypoker coldly.

“But you can’t; she isn’t yours. She’s mamma’s,” remonstrated Allie.

“I am taking your mother’s place for the present, and I shall not retain a servant who is so disrespectful,” answered Mrs. Pennypoker again. “I am surprised at you, Alice, for interfering in a matter which does not belong to you.”

“It does belong to me, too,” returned Allie mutinously. “Janey’s a splendid girl, and mamma just thinks everything of her. She’ll never forgive you, if you send her off; and what’s more, I hope she won’t; so there, now!”

“Alice!” And there was no mistaking the meaning of Mrs. Pennypoker’s tone.

“I don’t care if ’tis!” exclaimed Allie, with illogical recklessness. “You’re just too mean, and I don’t blame Janey one bit.”

“Alice!” repeated Mrs. Pennypoker. “You may go to your room, and not leave it again to-day. I shall tell your mother exactly what has occurred.”

“Tell away!” returned Allie. “I just hope you will. I’m not afraid of mamma; she’s not so cross as some people.” And forcing back the angry tears, she walked away in the direction of her room, leaving the half-frightened boys to look alter her in silent sympathy.

Once in the safe retreat of her own room, Allie’s courage broke down, and, throwing herself on her bed, she began to cry convulsively, as she realized all the injustice of her punishment, all the petty tyranny she had borne for the past three days. For a few moments the sobs came faster and faster. Then, when her first excitement was over, she began to think. Mrs. Pennypoker ought to be ashamed of herself for abusing them so; and how angry her mother would be when she knew it! Perhaps the long day of loneliness and fasting would make her ill; then Mrs. Pennypoker would be sorry. It might be that she would never get over it, but would go into a decline. How they would all mourn for her! She went on to plan the minutest details of her funeral with all the gloomy cheerfulness of an undertaker; but, when she came to fancy the loneliness of Howard and Charlie, the distressing picture overcame her, and she began to sob once more. However, the tears would not flow quite so readily this time; and, under all her pity for herself, she began to wonder uneasily if, perhaps, she had not been a little hasty and rude to Mrs. Pennypoker. It might be that her mother would not altogether sympathize with her, after all. This was not an agreeable thought, and, to silence it, she sprang up and crossed the room to put some cold water on her flushed and swollen face. As she did so, she saw a slip of paper tucked under the door, and she seized it eagerly, for it was addressed to her, and in Charlie’s writing.

“Good for you, Allie!” it said. “Keep up your pluck till afternoon, and we’ll have some fun then.”

There was something encouraging in the boyish sympathy; and, as Allie stood caressingly rubbing the note against her cheek, she found herself wondering what he could mean by his reference to possible fun in the afternoon. The outlook for the rest of the day did not seem to promise much in the way of enjoyment; but Allie knew her cousin’s ingenuity well enough to rely upon his word, so she could resign herself to wait.

The next hour was a long one to the young prisoner, who wandered restlessly about the room, or tried to amuse herself with a book, although all the time she was inwardly dwelling upon the ignominy of her punishment, and dreading lest it should reach the ears of Marjorie and the Everetts, or, worst of all, of Dr. Brownlee, whose good opinion she especially desired to retain. At the end of the hour, Mrs. Pennypoker herself appeared on the threshold, with a plate of crackers in one hand and a glass of water in the other. Without a word to the captive, she set the meagre lunch upon the table, and withdrew, locking the door behind her. At this last insult, Allie’s temper flashed up again. It was enough to punish her so severely; but it was not necessary to distrust her honor, and lock her up like a criminal. At least, she would not touch the rations her jailer had left. Deliberately she picked them up, and, going to the window, she threw out the water with a splash, and tossed the crackers after it. She hesitated for a moment, and then hurled the plate and glass after them, with an angry determination which sent them crashing far across the uneven ground beneath her window. That done, she sat down to read with a quieted conscience.

Through the closed door she could hear Mrs. Pennypoker moving to and fro about the house, and now and again Vic’s baby voice fell upon her ears; but, for the most part, the house was very still. At length she heard some one calling her name in a low voice. Throwing aside her book, she went to the door and listened intently, till she heard the call repeated. This time it was evident that the sound came from outside the window. She hurried across the room and threw it wide open. In a moment more Charlie had scrambled into the room.

“Hullo!” he remarked, as he tossed his cap into a chair. “You’re awfully warm in here, so let’s leave the window open. We’re safe enough, for Mrs. Pennypoker can’t hear us. Besides, Dr. Hornblower is in the parlor talking to her, and she won’t know anything more to-day.”

“But what are you going to do?” asked Allie, watching him in amazement, as he seated himself at his ease and unbuttoned his light gray coat, to expose to view a great round parcel concealed inside it.

“I’m going to spend the afternoon with you, of course,” returned Charlie composedly. “You didn’t s’pose I was going back on you after the way you stuck to me last June? Well, not much! We could climb out of the window and go off, but she’d be sure to find it out, and that would only make it worse, so we’ll stay here and have a lark.”

“You’re a dear old boy, Charlie!” And Allie embraced him tempestuously. “But how did you ever stand it to be shut in here so long, last summer? This last hour has ’most killed me.”

“I wasn’t all alone, you know, much of the time. But, I say, come off!” he remonstrated, as Allie renewed her demonstrations of affection. “You needn’t stand my hair on end just because I’ve come. Here’s a pie I sniped off the pantry shelf, for I thought most likely you’d be hungry.”

“I’m nearly starved,” answered Allie gratefully. “Mrs. Pennypoker did bring me some crackers this noon, though.”

“Crackers aren’t much good, and those are all gone by this time, aren’t they?” inquired Charlie scornfully.

“Yes, every one; gone out of the window,” returned her cousin disdainfully. “Charlie MacGregor, I’d have starved to death before I touched one of her old crackers!”

“That’s the way to talk,” said Charlie approvingly. “She’s a Tartar and a Turk, Allie, and I’d like to tell her what I think of her if I only dared. But, if I did, she’d just lock us up in different rooms; and it’s more fun to be together.”

“I did tell her Oh, dear, I wish mamma would come back,” sighed Allie. “How shall we ever stand it three more days, Charlie?”

“Grin and bear it, mostly,” returned Charlie, philosophically. “Janey’s packed up her clothes and gone off, and she says she won’t step into this house again till auntie gets back. I don’t blame her; but Mrs. Pennypoker’ll have to turn cook, or else send over for Wang. But go on and eat your pie, Allie, and you’ll feel better. She’s a Turk, I tell you; but I’ll see that auntie knows all about it, and I know she won’t think you’re a bit to blame.”

“But, Charlie, you aren’t going to stay here all this everlasting afternoon,” remonstrated Allie, as her woe yielded to the combined influences of her cousin’s consolation and his pie. “It isn’t fair at all, when you might be off with the boys having a good time.”

“Well, it strikes me this ought to be my innings,” answered Charlie quietly, while he settled his glasses on his nose and then took up the book which his cousin had just tossed aside. “How many days and weeks, I’d like to know, did you stay in here with me, when ’t was hot and dark and stuffy here! It’s only fair that you should let me take my turn now. You needn’t talk to me, if you don’t want to; but I shall stay here as long as I choose, and you can’t put me out, so you may as well make up your mind to it.”

Two hours later, as Mrs. Pennypokers step was heard in the hall outside, Charlie quietly let himself drop from the window-sill. Then he turned back to whisper,

“Just don’t you say anything about it, Allie; we aren’t even now, and we sha’n’t be, very soon. Besides, it’s worth all the rest to have the fun of getting the inside track of her. Good-by till breakfast-time!” And he vanished around the corner of the house.