For the definition had absolutely nothing to say about any _bonnet_.

She was shoving the pages forward with an impatient damp thumb in her search for Bonnet, when Thomas entered, slipping in around the edge of the hall door on soft foot--with a covert peek nursery-ward that was designed to lend significance to his coming. His countenance, which on occasion could be so rigorously sober, was fairly askew with a smile.

Gwendolyn stood up straight on the hassock to look at him. And at first glance divined that something--probably in the nature of an edible--might be expected. For the breast-pocket of his liveried coat bulged promisingly.

"Hello!" he saluted, tiptoeing genially across the room.

"Hello!" she returned noncommittally.

Near the table, he reached into the bulging pocket and drew out a small Manila bag. The bag was partly open at the top. He tipped his head to direct one black eye upon its contents.

"Say, Miss Gwendolyn," he began, "_you_ like old Thomas, don't you?"

Gwendolyn's nostrils widened and quivered, receiving the tempting fragrance of fresh-roasted peanuts. At the same time, her eyes lit with glad surprise. Since her seventh anniversary, she had noted a vast change for the better in the attitude of Miss Royle, Thomas and Jane; where, previous to the birthday, it had seemed the main purpose of the trio (if not the duty) to circumvent her at every turn--to which end, each had a method that was unique: the first commanded; the second threatened; Thomas employed sarcasm or bribery. But now this wave of thoughtfulness, generosity and smooth speech!--marking a very era in the history of the nursery. Here was fresh evidence that it was _continuing_.

Yet--was it not too good to last?

"Why, ye-e-es," she answered, more than half guessing that this time bribery was in the air.

But the fragrant bag resolved itself into a friendly offering. Thomas let it drop to the table.

Casting her last doubt aside, Gwendolyn caught it up eagerly. Miss Royle never permitted her to eat peanuts, which lent to them all the charm of the forbidden. She cracked a pod; and fell to crunching merrily.

"And you wouldn't like to see me go away, _would_ you now," went on Thomas.

Her mouth being crammed, she shook her head cordially.

"Ah! I thought so!" He tore the bag down the side so that she could more easily get at its store. Then, leaning down confidentially, and pointing a teasing finger at her, "Ha! Ha! Who was it got caught spyin'

yesterday?"

The small jaws ceased grinding. She lifted her eyes. Their gray was suddenly clouded--remembering what, for a moment, her joy in the peanuts had blotted out. "But I _wasn't_ spying," she denied earnestly.

"Then what _was_ you doin'?--still as mice behind them curtains."

The mist cleared. Her face sunned over once more. "I was waving at the nurse in the brick house," she explained.

At that, up went Thomas's head. His mouth opened. His ears grew red.

"The nurse in the brick house!" he repeated softly.

"The one with the curly hair," went on Gwendolyn, cracking more pods.

Thomas turned his face toward the side window of the school-room.

Through it could be seen the chimneys of the brick house. He smacked his lips.

"You like peanuts, too," said Gwendolyn. She proffered the bag.

He ignored it. His look was dreamy. "There's a fine Pomeranian at the brick house," he remarked.

"It was the first time I'd ever seen her," said Gwendolyn, with the nurse still in mind. "Doesn't she smile nice!"

Now, Thomas waxed enthusiastic. "And she's a lot prettier close to," he declared, "than she is with a street between. Ah, you ought--"

That moment, Jane entered, fairly darting in.

"Here!" she called sharply to Gwendolyn. "What're you eatin'?"

"Peanuts, Jane,"--perfect frankness being the rule when concealment was not possible.

Jane came over. "And where'd you git 'em?" she demanded, promptly seizing the bag as contraband.

"Thomas."

Sudden suspicion flamed in Jane's red glance. "Oh, you must've did Thomas a _grand_ turn," she observed.

Thomas shifted from foot to foot. "I was--er--um--just tellin' Miss Gwendolyn"--he winked significantly--"that she wouldn't like to lose us."

"So?" said Jane, still sceptical. Then to Gwendolyn, after a moment's reflection. "Let me close up your dictionary for you, pettie. Jane never likes to see one of your fine books lyin' open that way. It might put a strain on the back."

Emboldened by that cooing tone, Gwendolyn eyed the Manila bag covetously. "I didn't eat many," she asserted, gently argumentative.

"Oh, a peanut or two won't hurt you, lovie," answered Jane, kneeling to present the bag. Then drawing the pink-frocked figure close, "And you _didn't_ tell him what them two ladies had to say?"

"No." It was decisive, "I told him about--"

"I didn't ask her," interrupted Thomas. "No; I talked about how she loves us. And a-course, she does.... Jane, ain't it near twelve?"

But Gwendolyn had no mind to be held as a tattler. "I told him," she continued, husking peanuts busily, "about the nurse-maid at the brick house."

Jane sat back.

"Ah?" She flashed a glance at Thomas, still shifting about uneasily mid-way between table and door. Then, "What _about_ the nurse-maid, dearie?"

It was Gwendolyn's turn to wax enthusiastic. "Oh, she has _such_ sweet hair!" she exclaimed. "And she smiles nice!"

Jealousy hardened the freckled visage of the kneeling Jane. "And she's taken with you, I suppose," said she.

"She threw me kisses," recounted Gwendolyn, crunching happily the while.

"And, oh, Jane, some day may I go over to the brick house?"

"Some day you may--_not_."

Gwendolyn recognized the sudden change to belligerence; and foreseeing a possible loss of the peanuts, commenced to eat more rapidly. "Well, then," she persisted, "she could come over here."

Jane stared. "What do you mean?" she demanded crossly. "And don't you go botherin' your poor father and mother about this strange woman. Do you _hear?_"

"But she takes care of a rich little girl. I _know_--'cause there are bars on the basement windows. And Thomas says--"

"Oh, _come_" broke in Thomas, urging Jane hallward with a nervous jerk of the head.