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blows. The punishment had been so prodigiously in excess of the crime!

How was one to try and comfort the victim of injustice, without appearing to criticize the chastening hand? Ann didn’t know; but the microbe in a top-hat and Oxford bags and spats, and white kid gloves, continued his extraordinary adventures, until Jo chortled with delight and even Biddy’s tear-stained face twisted into the semblance of a smile. At the end of the story, Jo, looking out of the window, announced that Alice and Connie were riding up to the gate.

“I won’t be nice to them,” said Biddy, still defiant.

“Oh, yes you will,” returned Ann, with more cheerful conviction than she felt. “What about having a microbe tea-party? Come along down to my room, Biddy, and wash your face, and I’ll give you some chocolates to bring back to the schoolroom.”

“What’s a microbe tea-party?” demanded Jo.

Again Ann’s inventiveness was called into play. On the spur of the moment she had to frame rules and regulations, and a complete manual of etiquette, for microbes. Later, approaching the schoolroom to discover how things were going, she realized that there were no hostilities in progress. Harmony reigned, and the party seemed to be in full swing. But it was not going according to the preconceived Merrill code. It had taken a new and original turn. Two chocolate creams were on one plate, and two bits of dry bread on another.

“Will you have Marblar-Marblar or Sarblar-Sarblar?” she heard Biddy asking her guests politely.

“Marblar-Marblar, please,” said Alice.

The bits of dry bread were handed to the Ralstons,