housewifely Jean, stooping to pick up a bit of string from the dining-room rug, and winding it into a little ball. "I've looked in every room and—Why! what a long string! I wonder where it's all coming from."
"Under the rug," said Marjory, making a dive for the bit of paper that dangled from the end of the string. "Here's your note, Mabel."
"I think," wrote Miss Blossom, "that there must be a mouse in the pantry mouse-trap by this time."
"Yes," shouted Mabel, a moment later, "a lovely lace-edged mouse with an 'M' on it—no, it's 'M B'—a really truly monogram, the very first monogram I ever had."
"Why, so it is," said Marjory. "I suppose she did that so we could tell them apart because if she'd put M on both of them we wouldn't have known which was which."
"Why," cried Jean, "it's nearly an hour since the train left. Wasn't it sweet of her
