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somebody tell me there was sausage for breakfast?” he cried as he quickly started to get dressed.
    “Oh, that’s not really sausage,” said Jim, pretending to be serious. “That’s just a powder that smells like sausage when sprinkled on the stove. It’s my invention for rousing people who sleep through alarm clocks.”
    Mart threw a sneaker at him. Jim caught it neatly and jokingly refused to return it until Mart apologized. Mart grabbed his friend, and they rolled around on the floor until Brian finally got the shoe away from Jim and returned it to Mart.
    “Hey, what goes on up there?” called Trixie from the bottom of the stairs. “You woke us up with all your noise.”
    “Oh, Jim was just trying to prove that brawn is superior to brain,” said Mart, “but I was able, through subtle and devious machinations, to quell his enthusiasm and restore order.”
    “Another sentence like that and I’ll throw something heavier than a sneaker at you,” Jim said as they came downstairs and headed for the dining room.
    It was not as large a room as the one at the Wheelers’ house in Sleepyside, but it was most attractive. The furniture was painted white, the chairs had bright coral cushions, and there was a coral and gray rug on the black-painted floor. Over the sideboard hung a beautiful old Chinese painting of a heron standing on one leg among tall reeds. In the center of the table was an attractive arrangement of seashells on a straw mat.
    Honey rang the little brass bell she found at the head of the table, and Celia, looking very pretty in her trim blue uniform, came in with a tray of orange juice.
    “I’m sure you’ll be glad to hear the electricity is back on,” Celia said as she served the juice. “The power company crews must have worked all night to restore the service.”
    “Well, it looks as though our work is cut out for us. The yard is a mess,” said Jim, “but we told El we’d take care of things, so we’d better get at the job right after breakfast.”
    “Oh, it won’t take too long if we all pitch in and help, and then we can start working on the let—” Trixie caught herself as she saw Jim shaking his head at her. Celia was just returning from the kitchen with a platter of sausages and a dish of hot corn muffins, and, much as the Bob-Whites liked her, they had decided long ago to keep the affairs of the club to themselves whenever they could.
    “You were saying we’d have to start writing letters home so our parents wouldn’t be worried?” Brian asked.
    “Yes,” said Trixie, glad to be helped out of her predicament by her brother's quick thinking.
    “Miss Trask telephoned Mrs. Belden early this morning,” said Celia, “just as soon as the lines were repaired. She didn’t want to wake you. She told Mrs. Belden we were all safe and asked her to tell Mrs. Lynch, so you don’t have to worry a bit. The Wheelers had already left on their trip, but she sent them a telegram.”
    By the time they had finished breakfast, the rain had stopped. Bright patches of blue began to show through the scudding clouds. It was still quite cold, so they put on sweat shirts and the red B.W.G. jackets Honey had made for all of them and went outside to where the tree had fallen.
    “Jeepers, I don’t see how we can ever move that without a saw,” Trixie said ruefully, looking at the large uprooted tree.
    “Maybe there’s one in the barn. We’ve found just about everything else we needed in there. I’ll go see,” volunteered Honey hopefully.
    “Good idea,” Brian said. “I’ll come with you.” He grabbed Honey’s hand, and they headed for the barn. They were soon back, however, with the only thing they could find—a very small pruning saw.
    “This thing is worse than nothing at all,” moaned Honey, dangling the little saw in front of her. “I do wish we could do something. Tom won’t be able to get a car out of here until that tree’s moved. And that will take a long time.”
    At that