“No, to be sure not,” said Mr. Lilburn, and the hen clucked behind Violet’s chair and the pup’s cry was heard coming from underneath a heap of crocheting in Mrs. Dinsmore’s lap, fairly startling her into uttering a little cry of surprise and dismay and springing to her feet.

Then everybody laughed, Rosie clapping her hands with delight, and Max glanced from one to another more mystified than ever.

“Never mind, Max,” said Violet, “it’s plain you are not the culprit who brought such unwelcome intruders here.  Run up to your room now and make yourself ready for tea.”

Max obeyed, but looking back from the doorway, asked, “Shall I send one of the servants to turn out the hen and carry away the pup?”

“Never mind, we’ll attend to it,” said Mr. Dinsmore.

“I’ll find ’em.  I can carry that pup out,” said Walter, getting down from his grandpa’s knee and beginning a vigorous search for it, the older people watching him with much amusement.

At length, having satisfied himself that neither it nor the hen was in the room, he concluded that they must be in Max’s overcoat pockets, and told him so the moment he returned.

“No, they are not, unless some one has put them there since I went up-stairs,” said Max.  “But I don’t believe in them, Walter.  I think they were only make believe.”

“How make believe?” asked the little fellow in perplexity.

“Ask Mr. Lilburn.”

“Come, explain yourself, young man,” said that gentleman laughingly.

“I’ve heard of ventriloquists, sir,” said Max.  “I don’t know if you are one, but as pup and hen could only be heard and not seen, I think it must have been a ventriloquist’s work.”

“But you don’t know for certain,” said Rosie, coming to his side, “and please don’t say anything to Zoe, or Lulu, or Gracie about it.”

“I won’t,” he said, as the door opened and the three entered, Zoe having overtaken the two little girls on their way down-stairs after being dressed for the evening by the careful and expert Agnes.

“Mamma, do I look nice enough for your little girl?” asked Gracie, going to Violet’s side.

“Very nice and sweet, my darling,” was the whispered reply, accompanied by a tender caress.

Walter, hardly waiting until the necessary introductions were over, burst out eagerly, “Zoe, do you know where that pup is?”

“What pup?” she asked.

“I don’t know his name.”

“Well, what about him?”

“I thought he was in Max’s pocket, but he wasn’t, and neither was the hen.”

The tea-bell rang at that instant, and Rosie, putting her lips to Walter’s ear, whispered, “Do keep quiet about it, and we’ll have some fun.”

“Will we?” he asked with a look of mingled wonder and pleasure; “then I’ll keep quiet.”

All through the meal Walter was on the qui vive for the fun, but there was none beyond a few jests and pleasantries which were by no means unusual in their cheerful family circle.