"won't you come and see the new rutherford boys, mardy? we met them at frances silsby's the other night," said roberta, as she took the tray from her mother, while oswyth took the pitcher.

the three tall lads arose as mrs. grey came toward them. "dear me!" she smiled. "i never would dream you were new rutherford boys if i espied you at a distance, but quite old ones. i am glad to see you."

"we are glad to be here," said the oldest boy, shaking heartily the motherly hand held out to him, and smiling back into the kindly eyes which always won young things, quadruped or biped, and were especially attractive to a motherless lad. "i am basil rutherford, this is my second mate, bruce, and this my little baby brother bartlemy. stand up straight, tom thumb, and ask mrs. grey if she doesn't think you ought to be put[18] in an incubator. we're so afraid we won't be able to raise him," added basil, with a tragic glance at the girls.

fifteen-year-old bartlemy stood erect to his full six feet one of height, and grinned with the helpless good-nature of a frequent victim.

the rutherfords were very much alike, brown-skinned, brown-haired, blue-eyed boys, with honesty and kindliness shining from their fine faces. mrs. grey made up her mind about them on the spot—as she usually did on meeting strangers. "nice creatures!" she thought, and laughed as she surveyed bartlemy.

"i doubt that you could raise him—unaided," she said. and the boys, in their turn, mentally labelled her: "nice woman."

"but none of you is precisely stunted," added mrs. grey, looking up from her own considerable altitude into basil's, and then into bruce's face, both of which topped her by several inches.

"bruce is five feet eleven, good measure, and i am five feet ten," said basil. "all the rutherfords grow rank."

"like our grass," added roberta, who had been quiet as long as she could be. "there's nothing but length—and poor quality—to the grass, though," she added, with a wicked look, to[19] which she served an immediate antidote by pouring lemonade into the three rapidly emptying glasses.

"you are new neighbors, i think," said mrs. grey, calmly removing a caterpillar from her cuff, and thereby rising high in bartlemy's estimation, who was an embryo naturalist and scorned nerves.

"we're here for a time—we came three weeks ago. we've taken the caldwell place, and our guardian put us here with a tutor to get ready for college," said basil. "i'm in my eighteenth year, but i'd like to wait for bart if i could. and he's not as stupid as he looks—we think we can enter together in a year; we'd like to keep on side by side as long as we can—we've done it so far."

"how pleasant that is to hear!" cried mrs. grey, heartily. "i'm sure you'll gain far more than you lose by waiting. you speak as though you were alone; are you boys all there are in the family?"

"our father is alive," said basil, "but he is in the navy, and he's usually about the farthest father i know—just now he's in japan for two years more. our mother died when bart was six. we wish she hadn't—" basil stopped[20] short. he had no idea that he was going to say this, but the look that sprang into mrs. grey's eyes when he alluded to his mother's loss had slightly upset him.

mrs. grey understood. "i wish that she could have stayed to be proud of her three tall sons," she said. "but perhaps wythie and rob and prue can coax you here to share in the mother feeling. we're fond of motherliness in the little grey house, basil, and we do have good times in it. i must run away, or there will be a sad time in it when the girls come in hungry. they will tell you about our little grey house and its grey denizens. will you come often, and help us have good times?" she included the three lads in her warm glance, and quick affection leaped back at her from the three pairs of dark blue eyes. mrs. grey mothered everything that came near her, being one of the sort of women with a genuine talent for loving. she longed to bless and protect all creation, and fell to planning as she spoke how to give these motherless lads the womanly sympathy they must want in their setting out on the battle of life.

"indeed, we will come," said bruce, speaking suddenly and for the first time.

"you're very good, mrs. grey," said basil,[21] quietly, but he pressed her hand till it ached, and she knew that he had read aright and would accept her invitation.

"the greys," began roberta, in a perfectly dispassionate, narrative tone, as her mother went toward the house, "are exceedingly nice people—i can truly say i know none whom i like better. they are of most ancient, trailing arbutus descent——"

"rob!" ejaculated oswyth, reproachfully, not knowing how their new acquaintances would take this nonsense.

"fact! isn't the trailing arbutus the mayflower?" said rob, unabashed. "it's a more appropriate name, too, because the descendants of the pilgrims have 'trailed clouds of glory as they came,' like the soul in wordsworth's intimations of immortality—i trust you have heard of wordsworth, little boys? if you doubt that the greys are of mayflower descent on the maternal side, just go ask their aunt-in-law, azraella winslow."

"oh, rob; how can you?" cried oswyth, distressed.

"why, that's true, wythie; they won't have to ask her, will they?" said rob, innocently.

"no, don't ask; just listen. well, the greys[22] are poor, but respectable. i hope that they are very respectable, for i can testify from accurate knowledge that they are very poor. they have lots of books, worn shabby, but as good as ever, and the two oldest girls study hard at home—as well as they can—but the youngest they contrive to keep at school. the second daughter is digging away at german alone, and she wishes that everything wasn't divided off into masculine and feminine genders, like a quaker meeting. however, my brethren, this is not history—only natural history, maybe. to return to the grey annals: the dear father grey is a genius, and he is inventing something so clever and valuable that one day the greys will be rich. the darling mother grey is perfect, and a heroine, and nobody on earth could love her enough. the grey girls help her do the housework, and they economize—economize terrific! but they do have fun, and they're happy, and when you came along they were economically trying to cut their own grass, under the rash leadership of the second daughter, and the grass would not succumb to a mower. and that brings my story right up to date—it may be continued in our next issue."

the rutherford boys evidently understood perfectly how to take roberta; there was no[23] occasion for oswyth's anxiously puckered brow, nor prue's flushed cheeks and mortified look. all three boys recognized pluck and admired it in the brief outline sketch of the greys which rob had given them. bruce especially, rob's senior by half a year, as basil was wythie's, liked the spirit which she displayed, and which was largely his own sort of courage.

"our next issue is now ready for the press," he said. "the three rutherfords—all b's, and so naturally inclined to be busy—were coming down the road as the grey girls struggled with the stalled mower, and resolved to rescue the brave damsels. high and low they sought till they had found three scythes, or scythes and sickles. armed with these they marched down upon the grey house, cut the grass with wild hallos, and returned triumphant to the caldwell place. come on, bas; hurry up, bart; we'll shave the grey place clean."

"oh, you three long angels!" cried rob, starting up rapturously as the three rutherfords arose to carry out bruce's suggestion with prompt enthusiasm. "i said when i saw you coming that i wished you'd cut this tough grass for us, but i never thought of it again. wait a minute; i want to speak to mardy."

[24]

she darted to the house and came flying back again from around the rear corner before the others had time to wonder why she had gone.

"it's all right; i knew she'd say yes," rob panted. "come to-morrow afternoon, if you really want to do it, and we'll ask frances down, and have some sort of supper on the newly shaved lawn, among the sweet-smelling grass—even this weedy grass will be fragrant, newly mown. will you do that?"

"it will be great!" said the boys, heartily. "of course we'll come." and they bade the grey girls good-by, with much satisfaction in their first call.

"nice girls," said basil, as they swung up the road, the tallest, bartlemy, in the middle, an arm resting on each tall brother's shoulder. "which is the nicest?"

"hard to say," began bartlemy, but bruce cut him short with decision, saying:

"prue's as pretty as a picture; oswyth's pretty, too, though not as pretty, and she's a lady, but rob's a dandy! she's got go and pluck, and did you ever see such a face for crinkling up? i had to watch it; you couldn't tell what it would do next—pretty, she is too—splendid eyes and hair."

[25]

the girls echoed the boys' favorable opinion of them, and it was re-echoed that night at bedtime between the large room which oswyth and roberta shared and the small one prue occupied in solitary dignity.

the greys were early astir on the following morning, for "the mowing-bee of the b's," as rob called it, entailed extra labor, well worth it though it was.

supper, when one does not consider expense, is a simple enough problem, but supper when there is little to spend means expenditure of strength instead of money.

mrs. grey cut the thinnest slices of her own famous bread, buttered it perfectly, and set it away in the ice-chest while she made egg sandwiches and chopped crispy lettuce out of the garden—lettuce which did not look—in spite of rob's suspicion—as though the farmer who carried on the grey garden on shares had "unrolled it to count its leaves."

"jenny lind cake," quite good enough for anyone—provided it is eaten very fresh—may be made with one egg. oswyth beat up two of these cakes, and into one stirred juicy blueberries, while the other she baked in jelly-tins, and iced and filled with caramel filling.

[26]

rob and prue carried out the table and set it on the lawn. the little grey house was well filled with old blue and white china, odds and ends of pink and white also, queer, dainty sprigged cups and saucers, and rare old pewter which it was oswyth's joy to keep bright. so the table when decked looked really beautiful, and the girls surveyed it with pride, knowing that more sumptuous suppers than theirs there might be, but few more attractive, and they trusted to their own gayety to secure it one of the jolliest. frances silsby came down early. she was oswyth's and rob's—more particularly rob's—one intimate friend; the grey girls were too sufficient to themselves to need outsiders. she found them hurrying over their dressing, having scrambled the dinner dishes away, for the laborers were sure to arrive early.

the gowns the girls wore were not only simple in themselves, but had done good service and showed in many places their mother's artistic darning. but they were becoming lawns, and when the laughing young faces came up through their fresh ruffles, and the soft, gathered waists settled around the young figures, oswyth was as sweet in her pale blue, roberta as brilliant in her rose pink, and prue as pretty in her snowy white[27] as new gowns could have made them—and, fortunately, were quite as happy.

the strains of the anvil-chorus floated down the street before rob and prue were ready—oswyth managed always to be ready—and the clash of anvils was marked by the click of scythes. looking out, the girls saw the rutherfords, three abreast, as usual, implements over shoulders and flashing in the sunshine, bearing down on the little grey house.

"oh, hurry, rob; give me my stick-pin, wythie—they're coming!" cried prue.

"don't wear your stick-pin, prue; you're sure to lose it out of that thin stuff. take my bow-knot-pin," said wythie, proffering it.

"oh, that old-fashioned thing! well, i suppose boys won't know—i'll take it, wythie. ready, rob?" cried prue.

"would be if my shoe-lacing hadn't come untied, and i stepped on it and broke it. i wouldn't dare tell anyone what i thought of shoe-lacings!" cried rob, trying to tie the broken string with fingers that quivered with impatience.

"let me, rob; you're too crazy," said frances, kneeling before her friend.

rob resigned herself with a sigh. "blessings on thee, little fan," she said. "please go down,[28] wythie and prue. tell the boys we'll be there just as soon as we finish singing 'blest be the tie that binds.'"

wythie and prue departed laughing, and rob and frances followed very soon.

"where shall we begin?" asked bruce, after greetings were over.

"at the beginning," said rob, but wythie, with a glance at her irrepressible sister, said:

"wherever you like; it really doesn't matter. and we girls are going to rake after you."

"you are little boazes,

following your noazes;

we are gleaners, like to ruth,

raking hay while in our youth,

which we think a better line

than making hay in the sunshine,"

sang rob, with one of her sudden inspirations.

"is this going to be a comic-opera, and are we taking part as stage peasants, or really working?" demanded basil, sternly, though he looked surprised, and his eyes danced.

bruce threw up his hat in applause, and bart stared open-mouthed.

"rob is demented, but not dangerous," said frances, who had known the boys some time.

[29]

"you know i warned you."

"well, now at it," said bruce.

"be sure you don't kill any young ground sparrows," said wythie, anxiously.

"oh, let me go ahead and scare up the mothers if there are any nests, then we'll see where they fly up," cried prue.

"go ahead, paula revere; rouse the inhabitants," said bartlemy.

so the mowing began, prue preceding, her cloud of yellow hair floating over her white gown as she scuffed her feet through the long grass, the boys in their white-flannel shirts, turned away at the necks, swinging their long scythes in their strong, long arms, and oswyth, frances, and rob fluttering after them in their floating summer gowns, raking industriously. it was as pretty a picture as any figure in the cotillon and quite as much fun.

presently they all began to sing, prue and frances in their high sopranos, oswyth in her sweet, low soprano, rob in her soft alto, basil a high tenor, bruce, a barytone, and bart something he sincerely believed was a heavy bass. people driving by stopped to look and listen, and mr. grey sat over his models in a happy dream, as the sound wafted in to him, while mrs. grey[30] could hardly keep her mind on the cold meat she was slicing and the biscuits she was making for tea.

"bless their dear, happy hearts!" she thought. "how little it takes to rejoice them. they won't know if i go without some little things to make up the trifling cost of their bee."

the work was only too short, it seemed to the girls, though perhaps the boys were glad to stop when mrs. grey came out on the steps at five and struck the brass-bowl, which was the greys' japanese way of summoning the family.

they had not attempted to mow the orchard, nor the land running down toward the back road, out of sight, but all that showed from the street was gloriously shaven, and rob had run the lawn-mower over it, enjoying its speed.

the supper was not merely pretty. "it was distinguished," frances told her friends later; she had a feminine instinct for old china.

"but it was not merely distinguished—it was extinguished—they ate every crumb," rob retorted. "and so it must have been good."

it was good; even in a community of skilful housewives, mrs. grey's cooking was famous. the dishes were tucked away in a big wash-tub till morning—an indulgence the greys some[31]times allowed themselves—and "the little busy b's bee," as the name was now abbreviated, ended with the girls nestled together on the steps, while the boys disposed of their length of limb lower down, and they sang again while the little july moon dipped down before them, and disappeared in the west, and the stars came out.

then frances arose to go, and the rutherford boys arose, too, to take her safely home, and then go their own ways.

"we're no end grateful to you for giving us the very nicest party we ever went to," said basil to mrs. grey as he bade her good-night.

"oh, as to that," rob remarked, "one good cut deserves another."

"come as often as you like, my dears; we shall love to have you," said mrs. grey, who, on this second, longer seeing, had taken the rutherfords quite into her motherly heart.

"did you have a good time, children?" she asked as the girls kissed her good-night, oswyth last of all, as she always contrived to be.

"beautiful, mardy," said wythie. "i really think, as basil said, it was as nice a party as i ever went to."

"and i think they are glorious boys," said[32] prue. "i'm so glad we've found such nice new friends."

"so am i; it's as fortunate for the three lassies as it is for the three lads," said mrs. grey.

"and i am glad the grass is cut, you unpractical little girls, mardy, wythie, and prudy, all three of you," said rob, looking out with much satisfaction on the smooth lawn as she pulled down the shade and lighted her bedtime candle.