nance and answered: "Thank you, sir, I'm
obleeged to ye. I don't mind if I do."

She was assisted into the carriage and sat at one end of the seat, Harry
being in the middle.

"I was going to see my darter, Nancy," said the old women. "Mrs.
Nehemiah Babcock her name is. Mebbe you know her husband."

"I don't think I do," said the professor.

"He's got a brother in Boston in the dry goods business. Mebbe you've
been at his store."

"Mebbe I have."

"I ginerally call to see my darter--her name is Nancy--once a week; but
it's rather hard for me to walk, now I'm getting' on in years."

"You're most eighty, ain't you?" appeared to proceed from Harry's mouth.
Our hero's face twitched and he had hard work to keep from laughing.

"Indeed, I'm not!" said the old lady, indignantly.

"I'm only sixty-seven and folks say I don't look more'n sixty," and the
old lady looked angrily at Harry.

"You must excuse him, ma'am," said the professor, soothingly. "He is no
judge of a lady's age."

"I should think not, indeed."

"Indeed, madam, you are very young looking."

The old lady was pacified by this compliment but looked askance at
Harry.

"Is he your son?"

"No, ma'am."

The old lady sniffed, as if to say, "So much the better for you."

"Are you travelin' far?" asked the old lady.

"What do you want to know for?" Harry appeared to ask.

"You're a sassy boy!" exclaimed the old woman.

"Harry," said Professor Henderson, gravely, "how often have I told you
not to be so unmannerly?"

"He orter be whipped," said the old lady. "Ef I had a boy that was so
sassy, I'd larn him manners!"

"I'm glad I ain't your boy," Harry appeared to reply.

"I declare I won't ride another step if you let him insult me so," said
the old woman, glaring at our hero.

Professor Henderson caught her eye and significantly touched his
forehead, giving her to understand that Harry was only "half-witted."

"You don't say so," she ejaculated, taking the hint at once. "How long's
he been so?"

"Ever since he was born."

"Ain't you afraid to have him drive?"

"Oh, not at all. He understands horses as well as I do."

"What's his name?"

Before the professor's answer could be heard, Harry appeared to rattle
off the extraordinary name: "George Washington Harry Jefferson Ebenezer
Popkins."

"My gracious! Has he got all them names?"

"Why not? What have you got to say about it, old women?" said the same
voice.

"Oh, I ain't got no o