It was not often that Bob’s good humour forsook him to the point of addressing his elder brother in such disrespectful terms, and Max glared at him wrathfully.

“Cut that!  I’m a few years older than you are, and you’ve no business to be impudent.  When you work the way I do, you’ll earn the right to have your rest undisturbed.”

“Yes, grandpa,” mocked Bob.  Alec, sitting on the edge of his cot, laughed.  This was too much for Max.  He seized his younger brother by the collar and attempted to shake him.  But Bob was more athletic than Max had realized.  The sturdy young figure resisted doughtily, and Max, who was by no means muscular, found his hands full.  Uncle Timothy and Alec looked on in amusement as the battle raged, and when Bob finally succeeded in depositing Max on the latter’s own cot, back downward, the victor’s knee on the conquered one’s chest, they applauded heartily.

“Take it good-naturedly, nephew,” advised Mr. Rudd, catching sight of Max’s angry countenance.  “It was a fair encounter, and the lad is stronger than you.”

“If there was any way of pounding a laugh into Maxwell Lane, I’d tackle him myself,” declared Alec.

“Boys, what are you doing?” called Sally.  “Are you dressed?  May we come through?  We want to help Mary Ann about breakfast.”

Max rose to his feet, his face red and his collar awry.  As the girls appeared he strode away up the stairs affecting not to see them.

“Max, are you going up to find out if any burglars got in overnight?” called Sally after him, “If you are, please see if my jewel case is undisturbed.”

To Sally’s intense gratification, it rained all day.  To be sure, she had invited her friends to a tent party, not to stay in an empty house, but it seemed to be so much more fun for everybody to roam about the house, exploring it from attic to cellar, suggesting what could be done to make it all inviting and attractive, that the hours by no means dragged.  Mrs. Burnside, especially, seemed to take deep interest in every detail of the rooms, declaring them to be susceptible to treatment which should easily make them homelike and beautiful.

The rugs from the tent had been laid in the hall, by the fireplace, where a small fire burned, its cheer and warmth grateful to those who gathered round it, for the change in the weather had become more pronounced as the day advanced, and a north-east wind was doing its part in making indoors desirable.  Such of the camp furniture as fitted the uses of a sitting-room had also been placed in the hall, and the result was that at least one spot in the big house presented a highly inviting appearance.

“I wish we had some books and magazines now,” said Josephine, disposing herself comfortably in a steamer chair, with her back toward the fire.  “I’ve read all those we had in the tent.”