“Ye—–­yes,” piped Stacy.  “He was a pale lily of the valley.  Now Walt’s a regular daisy.”

Young Perkins laughed good-naturedly.  He was not easily irritated now, whereas, before beginning to live in the open, the least little annoyance would set his nerves on edge.

Mrs. Butler came in at this juncture, carrying a pitcher of lemonade and four glasses on a tray.  The Pony Riders rose instinctively, standing while Mrs. Butler poured the lemonade.

“Oh, I forgot the cookies, didn’t I?” she cried.

“Yes, we couldn’t get along without the cookies,” nodded Chunky.

“Now don’t let your eyes get bigger’n your stomach,” warned Ned.  “Remember, we are in polite society now.”

“I hope you won’t forget yourself either,” retorted Stacy.  “I’ll stand beside you.  If you start to make a break I’ll tread on your toes and-----”

“Try it!” hissed Ned Rector in the fat boy’s ear.  The entrance of Mrs. Butler with a plate heaped with ginger cookies drove all other thoughts from the minds of the boys.  “Mrs. Butler,” began Ned, clearing his throat, “we—–­we thank you; from the bottom of our hearts we thank you—–­don’t we, Stacy?”

“Well, I—–­I guess so.  I can tell better after I’ve tried the cookies.  I know the lemonade’s all right.”

“How do you know?” demanded three voices at once.

“Why, I tasted of it,” admitted Chunky.

“As I was saying, Mrs. Butler, we-----”

“Never mind thanking me, Ned.  I will take your appreciation for granted.”

“Thank you,” answered Stacy, looking longingly at the plate of cookies.

“Now help yourselves.  Don’t wait, boys,” urged Tad’s mother, giving the boys a friendly smile before turning to leave the room.

“Ah, Mrs. Butler.  One moment, please,” said Ned.

“Yes.  What is it?”

“We---ah-----”

“Oh, let me say it.  You don’t know how to talk in public,” exclaimed Chunky.  “Mrs. Butler, we, the Pony Rider Boys, rough riders, Indian fighters and general, all-around stars of both plain and mountain, are thinking-----”

Ned thrust Chunky gently aside.  Had it not been for Mrs. Butler’s presence Ned undoubtedly would have used more force.

Tad sat down grinning broadly.  He knew that his mother enjoyed this good-natured badinage fully as much as the boys did.

Ned rapped on the table with his knuckles.

“Order, please, gentlemen!”

“That’s I,” chuckled Stacy, slipping into a chair.

“Laying all trimmings aside, Mrs. Butler, we have come to speak with you first, after which we’ll have something to say to your son.”

Mrs. Butler sat down in the chair that Tad had placed for her.

“Very good.  I shall be glad to hear what you have to say, Ned.”

“The fact is—–­as I was about to say when interrupted by the
irresponsible person at my left-----”

“I beg pardon. I’m at your left,” remarked Walter.