"Who owns it?"
"Why—er—I don't know," stammered the second youth, who seemed the oldest of the quartette inside the fence.
"I guess the splintered ladies do," remarked the cherub in the grass.
"The wh-at?"
"Tony's trying to be smart now," said the larger girl scornfully. "The Lady Board is meeting today, and he always calls them the splintered ladies."
"What is a Lady Board?" inquired mystified Peace, thinking this was the queerest home she had ever heard tell of.
"Why, they are the ladies who say how things shall be done here—"
"The number of times we can have butter each week and how much milk each of us can drink, and the number of potatoes the cook shall fix," put in the boy called Tony.
"Don't you have butter every day!" cried Peace in shocked surprise.
"Well, I guess not! We have it Sunday noons and sometimes holiday nights."