114 MARY'S GARDEN AND HOW IT GREW 



Randolph Findlayson appeared above the hole in the 

 floor. 



"Is n't this a fine place ! " he said, looking around 

 admiringly before climbing the remaining rungs of 

 the ladder. The ladder reached only to the opening, 

 so that it was necessary to enter the room, of the Bug 

 Association on your hands and knees. Then he hur- 

 ried to look out of one of the windows. " Oh, they 're 

 coming, Mary ! " he exclaimed excitedly. "I can see 

 'way down the street. There 's Buddy Thomas, and 

 Donald and Mildred Patterson. Yes, and there 's 

 Miss Bronson, too. And who 's that with her ? Eleanor 

 ^Thomas? Oh, Mary, you are n't going to have her? " 



Mary had stepped up on the bench, and was 

 looking out, too. "There they are," she said. 

 "Yes, that 's Eleanor. Why don't you like Elea- 

 nor, Randolph Finnan Haddie ? I think she 's very 

 nice." 



"Oh, I don't know," said Randolph Findlayson, 

 with masculine unreason; "her pigtails look like 

 molasses candy, and she cries like a regular baby 

 when you are n't doing anything to her." 



But a noise below made Mary jump suddenly from 

 the bench. "There ! There 's Margaret back ! " 

 she exclaimed. 



