"I mean," explained Mabel, "we're just children and this is only a playhouse, not a real one. If you have anything to sell, or are looking for a boarding place, or want to take our census"
"No," said Mr. Downing, "I don't want either your dollars or your senses. My name is Downing and I'm not selling anything. I called on business. Who is the head of this—this ghostly corporation?"
"It has four," said Mabel. "I'll get the rest."
Bettie and Jean, with grown-up gingham aprons tied about their necks followed Mabel to the parlour. Mr. Downing had seated himself in one of the chairs and the girls sat facing him in a bright-eyed row on the couch. Their countenances were so eager and expectant that Mr. Downing found it hard to begin.
"I've come in," he said, "to talk over a little matter of business with you. I understand that you've been having trouble
