on.

"Has nobody ever lived here since that wicked old man?"

"Oh, yes. I think so. But nobody for long, nor could anybody make it a
home."

"It looks as if it had been blue, up there by the roof."

"I believe it was. I've heard that every color possible was used in
painting it, so as to make it the more annoying to a person of good
taste, such as great-grandfather was."

"Heigho! Well, _we've_ got to live here."

"Or die. It's hopeless. I can't see a ray of light in the whole
situation."

"You dear old bat, you should wear specs. I can see several rays. I'll
count them off. Ray one: the ugly all-sorts-of-paint has been washed
away by the weather. Ray two: the air up here is as pure as it's sharp,
and there's nothing to obstruct or keep it from blowing your 'hypo'
away. Ray three: there are our own darling burros already helping to
'settle' by mowing the weeds with their mouths. What a blessing is
hunger, rightly utilized! And, finally, there's that
worth-her-weight-in-gold Goodsoul waving her pudding-stick, which in
this new, unique life of ours must mean 'breakfast.' Come along. Heigho!
Who's that? Our esteemed political friend, 'Rep-Dem-Prob.' I'd forgotten
him. Now, by the lofty bearing with which he ascends to our castle of
discontent, I believe he's been out 'marching.'"

It was, indeed, Fayette whom they saw climbing over the rocks. He wore
his oilcloth blouse and his gay helmet, and soon they could hear his
rude voice singing and see the waving of his broom.

"He? Coming back again? Why, we can't keep him. We can't even 'keep'
ourselves."

"Yet never a doubt I doubt he means to tarry," quoted Amy, laughing at
her brother's rueful countenance.

CHAPTER VIII.

NEEDS AND HELPERS.

"Sure, I thought ye had lost yourself or been ate by the rats!" cried
Cleena, as Fayette rather timidly peered in at the open kitchen door.
"But all rogues is fond o' good atin', so I suppose you've come for your
breakfast, eh?"

"No. I've et."

"Must ha' been up with the lark then. No, hold on. Don't go in there.
They're master Hallam an' Miss Amy still, an' always will be. They eats
by themselves, as the gentry should. If there's ought left when they're
done, time enough for you an' me."

"I've had my breakfast, I told you."

"Didn't seem to set well on your stummick either, by the way your temper
troubles ye. Are ye as ready to work as ye was yesterday?"

"Yes. What I come back for."

Cleena paused an