In school she was looked upon with suspicion, and her quick answers usually brought out whispers of “Cheat! Cheat!” until she learned not to answer. Lena was frankly ashamed of her, though she rose valiantly to her defense when the teacher punished her for copying in a test, unable to believe Marcia remembered whole pages word for word almost in one glance. Lena assumed her authority as Oldest, and called on Marcia’s teacher for redress, saying with dignity that her young sister was the smartest girl in class and the teacher ought to know better, and if she didn’t stop picking on Marcia she, Lena, would take it up with the principal. On this happy occasion Lena elected to march home holding on to Marcia’s arm protectively, and she showed her how to crochet as a special favor.

Papa, at their urgent request, packed up all three of them to go to Uncle Louie’s that summer, and he said maybe he’d have a house when they came back. This time everything was different. Uncle Louie had had bad luck with his crops, Aunt Betts’s rose cold turned into a siege of asthma, and Almedy worked so hard she had no time for company. The girls missed the careless freedom of the hotel, and country games seemed silly after the grown-up pleasures of London Junction. Florrie got a rash from sliding down the haystack on her bottom and all three got poison ivy. Uncle Louie and Aunt Betts weren’t as jolly this time, and didn’t seem to want them.

“How long did your father say you were going to stay here?” asked Uncle Louie at the end of a week.

“As long as we like, he said,” Lena reassured him.

“I guess that’s the size of it,” said Uncle Louie moodily. “By George, he sent along all your winter clothes, too, mittens and skates even. Does he think we have to be responsible now for you?”

“Now, Lou,” Aunt Betts wheezed, “it isn’t the children’s fault. Like as not they didn’t know a thing about it. Don’t make Florrie cry.” For Florrie always wept at criticisms of Papa.

“That’s so,” granted Uncle Louie. “Harry’s got a hell of a nerve, though, not even asking by your leave. If he can’t raise his own family, why don’t he put ’em in a home? I like the kids all right, but I’m not going to let Harry impose on me on that account.”

As usual, Lena’s pride rose up again, though Marcia was only mildly uncomfortable at these discussions. Lena laboriously wrote a letter to Papa and another to Aunt Lois, stating “we don’t want to stay anywheres we’re not wanted so pleas send us tickets.” Aunt Lois was frantically adjusting Grandma’s affairs in Cleveland, and Papa was in the West, so after waiting impatiently two or three days Lena announced they were leaving that very day for London Junction. Uncle Louie was abashed, and tried to coax them to wait till Papa wrote, but Lena was firm. She packed up the trunk again, herself, and saw that Marcia and Florrie got into their train clothes.