. "Where you want to go? I'm for Roselands."

"We want to go there," was the reply.

"Well, crawl up here. Two of you'll have to sit on the wagon bottom."

"I'm going to sit with the driver, 'cause I asked."

It wasn't a very clean floor to sit on, Jack thought, and the wagon
bumped a good deal, the beer kegs rattled against each other. But the
boys laughed and called it fun. There was another stop and then the
driver asked who they were going to see in Roselands.

"Oh, no one. We're going just for fun."

"Where'd you live?"

The boys all lived at Newton.

"Jiminy; then you better get out and trot back. I'm going over the
mountain where I put up for the night. Mebbe you can get a ride back.
It's two miles down to the place where I took you in."

"Yes, we better get out," replied the biggest boy. "Oh, we can soon
foot it back. Much obliged for the ride, Mister."

The man nodded.

They sat off quite cheerily. Automobiles passed them and carriages
containing ladies, one or two loaded trucks. Jack began to get very
tired and lagged. "Come, hurry up," the biggest boy said. Jack ran a
little distance for a change. He began to wish he was back in school.
Presently a farm wagon came jogging along.

"Give us a ride?" The biggest boy's name was Dick and he seemed the
spokesman.

"Yes--where ye want to go?"

"To Newton."

"I turn off at the crossroads, ye kin ride that fur."

That was a great relief. They were quite jolly again, though Jack
didn't understand the fun. But when they dismounted, Dick asked him
where he lived.

"In Arch Street."

"Well, that's clear over there," indicating it with his head. "Ta ta,
little sonny."

They both laughed and Jack felt rather affronted. Over there seemed a
long way. Then it was clouding up and night was coming on. He went
straight along, but now he was hungry, and his little legs ached. He
had been instructed if he was ever lost to ask the way to Arch Street.
So he asked now.

"Oh, sonny, you're a long way from Arch Street. Keep straight on until
you come to Taylor, then ask again."

Here was a bakery with a pleasant, motherly woman. He went in.

"Please ma'am, would you give me a bun? I'm lost and I can't find my
way back to Arch Street."

"You poor child! Yes, and here's a cake, beside. Arch Street isn't far
from the eastern end of the park. Sit and get rested. Who's your
father?"

"Mr. John Borden."

The woman shook her head.

"Thank you, very much." J