d at once for the fox skin, and Mrs.
Follet sent Nancy with him to help find it. The little girl lost some
of her shyness as they looked for the skin, and Steve listened to her
chatter, feeling in a strange way that it was all a dream which he had
had before, as we do sometimes in experiences which move us strongly.

They found the skin with little trouble, and when they had carried it
back to the house, Mr. Follet took it up and carefully examined it.

"So you're trying to get this here skin to the man in the city who
sent the watch to you?"

"Yes," said Steve.

"And you ain't got hair or hide o' the watch now?" continued Mr.
Follet.

"No, I hain't," said the boy sorrowfully.

"Well, I'll be sniggered," said Mr. Follet. "And how under the
cano_pee_ do you expect to find him in the city when you git thar?"

The boy's uncomprehending stare showed that he had no conception of a
city, and Mr. Follet looked at his wife, laughed and went over to the
station, which was station and store combined.

For a few days Steve continued to live in a dream. The house was a
marvel to him. Mrs. Follet cooked on a stove and constantly fixed
strange, nice things to eat; a clock ticked on the mantel, which
comforted him somewhat for the loss of his watch,--there were queer
but to him surprisingly beautiful and comfortable pieces of furniture,
and one room had a nice piece of good stout cloth with red and green
flowers on it spread over the floor on which people walked!

Then marvel of marvels, every now and then that engine and great train
of cars came puffing and hissing by the house in full view, and the
boy's spirits mounted on wings as he thought of the wonders of the
world.

Even with one arm disabled, he took hold at once to help with the work
about the place. He fed the chickens, horse and cow. With only one
hand he could not learn to milk, though he was eager to do so. He went
over to the store on errands and made himself useful in many ways.

One day when at the store he said to Mr. Follet that as soon as his
arm was well he would have to be going on to the city to take the fox
skin.

"And how under the cano_pee_ do you expect to be ridin' round on the
railroad without money?" said Mr. Follet. He knew well the boy had
none. "You ain't a Rockefeller or a Jay Gould, air you?"

These allusions of course meant nothing to the boy, and the question
of money was a new one to him. None of his late friends in their
simplici