been omitted.

"No, miss, I don't see--" he began, much mortified to think he had
forgotten anything.

"Wouldn't a little groom up behind improve the appearance of my
turnout?" she said, with a look which left no doubt in his mind that
_he_ was to be the happy boy to occupy that proud perch.

He grew red with pleasure, but stammered, as he hesitated, looking down
at his bare feet and blue shirt:

"I aint fit, miss, and I haven't got any other clothes."

Miss Celia only smiled again more kindly than before, and answered, in
a tone which he understood better than her words:

"A great man said his coat-of-arms was a pair of shirt sleeves, and a
sweet poet sung about a barefooted boy, so I need not be too proud to
ride with one. Up with you, Ben, my man, and let us be off, or we shall
be late for our party."

With one bound the new groom was in his place, sitting very erect, with
his legs stiff, arms folded, and nose in the air, as he had seen real
grooms sit behind their masters in fine dog-carts or carriages. Mrs.
Moss nodded as they drove past the lodge, and Ben touched his torn
hat-brim in the most dignified manner, though he could not suppress a
broad grin of delight, which deepened into a chuckle when Lita went
off at a brisk trot along the smooth road toward town.

It takes so little to make a child happy, it is a pity grown people do
not oftener remember it and scatter little bits of pleasure before the
small people, as they throw crumbs to the hungry sparrows. Miss Celia
knew the boy was pleased, but he had no words in which to express his
gratitude for the great contentment she had given him. He could only
beam at all he met, smile when the floating ends of the gray veil blew
against his face, and long in his heart to give the new friend a boyish
hug as he used to do his dear Melia when she was very good to him.

School was just out as they passed, and it was a spectacle, I assure
you, to see the boys and girls stare at Ben up aloft in such state;
also to see the superb indifference with which that young man regarded
the vulgar herd who went afoot. He could not resist an affable nod to
Bab and Betty, for they stood under the maple-tree, and the memory of
their circulating library made him forget his dignity in his gratitude.

"We will take them next time, but now I want to talk to you," began
Miss Celia, as Lita climbed the hill. "My brother has been ill, and I
have brought him here to get well. I want