Years ago the country lads and lassies generally used little bits of stones, instead of scraggly, jagged pieces of iron, with which they amuse themselves in these days.  Tim had seen some of the improved jackstones; and, borrowing one from a playmate, he made a clay mould from it, into which he poured melted lead, repeating the operation until he had five as pretty and symmetrically formed specimens as one could wish.  It was with these in his hands, that he led the way to the barn for a game between himself and sister.

The big, spacious structure was a favorite place for spending their leisure hours.  The hard, seedy floor, with the arching rafters overhead could not be improved for their purpose.  The shingles were so far aloft that the shade within was cool on sultry summer days, and it was the pleasantest kind of music to hear the rain drops patter on the roof and the wind whistle around the eaves and corners.  The mow where the hay was stored was to the left, as you entered the door, and under that were the stalls where the horses munched their dinner and looked solemnly through the opening over the mangers at the two children engaged at play.  Between where they sat and the rafters, the space was open.

Maggie took her seat in the middle of the floor, and her brother placed himself opposite.  Before doing so, he stepped to the nearest stall and picked up a block of wood six inches in diameter and two feet in length.  This he laid on the floor and seated himself upon it, tossing the jackstones to his sister to begin the game.

She was his superior, for her pretty taper fingers were more nimble than his sturdy ones, and, unless she handicapped herself by certain conditions, she invariably won in the contest of skill.  She tossed them one after the other, then two or three or more at a time, snatching up the others from the floor and going through the varied performance with an easy perfection that was the wonder of Tim.  Once or twice, she purposely missed some feat, but the alert lad was sure to detect it, and declared he would not play unless she did her best, and, under his watchful eye, she could not escape doing so.  As I have said, the only way to equalize matters was for her to handicap herself, and even then I am compelled to say she was more often winner than loser.

Sitting on the block of wood tipped up on one end, Tim kept his eyes on the bits of metal, popping up in the air and softly dropping into the extended palm, and wondered again why it was so hard for him to do that which was so easy for her.  Finally she made a slip, which looked honest, and resigned the stones to him.

Now, you know that in playing this game, you ought to sit on the floor or ground; for if your perch is higher, you are compelled to stoop further to snatch up the pieces and your position is so awkward that it seriously interferes with your success.

The very first scramble Tim made at the stones on the floor was not only a failure, but resulted in a splinter catching under the nail of one of his fingers.  Maggie laughed.