boxes and a long board into an admirable cosey corner. She even upholstered this sadly misnamed piece of furniture with the burlaps and excelsior that had been packed about her father's new desk, but it still needed a cover. The windows lacked curtains, the girls had only one fork and their cupboard was so distressingly empty that it rivaled Mother Hubbard's.
They had planned to eat and even sleep at the cottage during vacation, which was still some weeks distant; but, as they had no beds, and no provisions, and as their parents said quite emphatically that they could not stay away from home at night, part of this plan had to be given up.
Most of the grown-ups, however, were greatly pleased with the cottage plan. Marjory's Aunty Jane, who was nervous and disliked having children running in and out of her spotlessly neat house, was glad to have Marjory happy with her little friends, provided they were all perfectly safe—and
