Edgar Lane's mother bought a ticket. We made tickets out of pretty colored paper.
I lost mother's best scissors somehow. It took all the money in my bank to pay for them.
When we were having some jolly fun Susan called out, "You bad, wicked children, you've got your ma's best shawl for a curtain."
We did n't know it was her best shawl. It didn't look nice. Papa said it was camel's hair. We never thought camels had such queer hair.
We didn't play circus any more.
We went in the garden and camped out. We played the trees were high mountains. I was on the Alps. My sister in the grammar school told me about the Alps.
Edgar was in the same tree on another limb.
He called his "The Catskills." He went to those mountains once. We had a splendid time. Pretty soon Grandpa came out and said, "Here, you young rascals, come down, you will shake off all my nice fruit!"
