Margery walked on in a brown study, so lost to her surroundings that she ran into Butcher Davis's big Newfoundland dog, which always sat in the middle of the sidewalk, and would not have moved if the President and the Queen had come along arm in arm, and she begged his pardon, to the amusement of the other three.
"I thought he was some one else," she said, arousing herself, while Jack shouted with laughter.
"What's the matter, Megsy; writing another poem?" he asked.
"I won't tell you," she said. "I've had an idea."
"Tell us; how queer you look!" cried Trix, giving her a little shake of impatience.
"I won't tell any one on earth; so there!" said Margery, with entire decision. "I want you all to make a novena for me, and begin right off to-night. I want you to pray for my plan, but I won't tell you what it is."
"Have you a plan, Margery?" asked Amy, who regarded Margery as a superior being, whose thoughts were beyond the ken of ordinary mortals.
"Yes, I've a plan," replied Margery.