GOOD NEIGHBORS.
The Hazeltines' lot was a corner one, and Aunt Marcia, driving one afternoon along the street upon which their side gate opened, saw two boys seated on a box near the entrance to the alley that ran back of the stable.
"What can they be doing?" she asked herself, and not being able to imagine, she stopped the carriage and stepped out to investigate.
As she approached it became evident that one of the boys was Carl.
"What are you doing here I should like to know?" she demanded.
"We aren't doing any harm, Aunt Marcia," her nephew answered stoutly.
"An alley is no place to play in. Is that Louise?" as somebody peeped out of the stable door. "I am astonished; you must go in at once."
"I am going in directly, I am, indeed, Aunt Marcia; but please don't make the boys get up till they are sure it is quite dead." As she spoke Louise came out into full view.
"What are you talking about, and who is this boy?" Mrs. Hazeltine put up her glass, embarrassing Ikey greatly. "Oh, it is that Ford boy! Now tell me what you have in that box."
"A cat." Carl's eyes were full of mischief, though his tone was solemnity itself.