“Yes; even us,” repeated her brother. “And how are we arranged for? Left in charge of Larkin! Old Loony Larkin!” “Hush, King, that’s disrespectful,” said Marjorie, laughing in spite of herself. “Well, she is old; and she is Larkin; and I think she’s loony!” “But you mustn’t say so, if you do,” persisted Marjorie. “Indeed you mustn’t,” said Mrs. Maynard, coming into the living room where the three children were holding an indignation meeting. “I’m ashamed of you, King!” “Aw, Mother, forgive me this once, and I won’t ever say such a thing again till next time.” Kingdon sidled up to his mother, and nestled his cheek against hers in such a cajoling way, that Mrs. Maynard smiled, and forbore further reproof just then. “But, dearies all,” she went on, “you mustn’t take such an attitude toward Miss Larkin; she’s good and kind and will look after you nicely till I return.” “Larkin, Larkin, All the time a-barkin’,” chanted King, pinching his mother’s lips together, so she couldn’t reprimand him.