“The saints presarve us!” cried Eliza.  “An’ is it yersilf, Miss Midget!  Why, ye’re as big as a tellygraft pole, so ye are!”

“I know I am, Eliza, but you’re just the same as ever; and just look at the kitten I have brought!  Have you any here now?”

“Cats, is it?  Indade we have, then!  I’m thinkin’ there do be a hundred dozen of thim; they’re undher me feet continual!  But what kind of a baste is thot ye have there?  I niver saw such a woolly one!”

“This is a Persian kitten, Eliza, and her name is Puff.  Isn’t she pretty?”

“I’ll not be sayin’ she’s purty, till I see how she doos be behavin’.  Is she a good little cat, Miss Midget dear?”

“Good!  Indeed she is a good kitty.  And I wish you’d give her some milk, Eliza, while I run out to see the chickens.  Is Carter out there?”

But without waiting for an answer, Marjorie was already flying down through the garden, and soon found Carter, the gardener, at his work.

“Hello, Carter!” she cried.  “How are you this summer?”

“Welcome, Miss Midge!  I’m glad to see you back,” exclaimed the old gardener, who was very fond of the Maynard children.

“And I’m glad to be here, Carter; and I have some seeds to plant; will you help me plant them?”

“That I will.  What are they?”

“I don’t know; King gave them to me, but he wouldn’t tell me what they were.”

“Ah, the mischievous boy!  Now, how can we tell where to plant them when we don’t know if they’ll come up lilies of the valley or elephant’s ears?”

Marjorie laughed gayly.  “It doesn’t matter, Carter,” she said; “let’s stick them in some sunny place, and then, if they seem to be growing too high, we can transplant them.”

“It’s a wise little head you have, Miss; we’ll do just that.”

Humoring Marjorie’s impatience, the good-natured gardener helped her plant the seeds in a sunny flowerbed, and raked the dirt neatly over them with an experienced touch.

“That looks lovely,” said Marjorie, with a satisfied nod of approval; “now let’s go and see the chickens.”

This proved even more interesting than she had anticipated, for since her last visit an incubator had been purchased, and there were hundreds of little chickens of various sizes, in different compartments, to be looked at and admired.

“Aren’t they darlings!” exclaimed Marjorie, as she watched the little yellow balls trying to balance themselves on slender little brown stems that hardly seemed as if they could be meant for legs.  “Oh, Carter, I shall spend hours out here every day!”

“Do, Miss Midge; I’ll be glad to have you, and the chickens won’t mind it a bit.”

“Now the horses,” Marjorie went on, and off they went to the stables, where Moses had already unharnessed the carriage team, and put them in their stalls.  Uncle Steve had a new saddle horse, which came in for a large share of admiration, and the old horse, Betsy, which Grandma Sherwood liked to drive herself, was also to be greeted.