pposed a later one. So he stopped John, the teamster, as he was
driving out of the mill yard, with the request:--

"You stay up there all day, if you can be of any use. Got your dinner
with you? and the horses'? Good enough. I've heard about that family
being turned out from their old home, and whether it was justly done or
not doesn't alter the fact of its hardness. Lend them a hand, as if it
were for me, John, and I'll make it all right with you."

"It's all right already, sir. I saw that girl, when she was down here
that day; saw her take her fine little handkerchief out of her pocket
and wipe that idiot's, or next door to idiot, wipe his lips as nice as
if he was her own brother. Ain't one of the mill girls'd do _that_.
They'd be too dainty. She wasn't, because she was quality. It always
tells. Pity though that such folks have so little common sense. Now--"

But Mr. Metcalf warded off any further talk of the good John, who had
lived at Ardsley all his life and knew the history of the Kaye household
almost better than they knew it themselves.

"I'll ask you to tell me about them another time. Just now I guess you'd
better hurry to get them a decent drink of water. Hold on, 'Bony.' Ride
over to the office door. I'll send a note back to Miss Kaye, and want
you to carry her a little basket."

So this was the note which answered Amy's, and that proved its writer to
be a gentleman, even though he had begun life a humble ash-boy in just
such a mill as he now managed so ably:--

"MY DEAR MISS AMY: The kindness is wholly on your side in allowing me to
serve you, and I hope you will command me in any further matter wherein
I can be of use.

"I am sending the pump by John Young, our teamster, with instructions to
remain under your orders for the rest of the day. You will find that
'Bony' thoroughly understands the business of well-cleaning, but you
will have to restrain him from venturing into any great hazard, because,
poor lad, he has not the caution to balance his daring.

"I am offering, also, a little basket of fruit which came my way this
morning, and which looks, I fancy, as if it wanted to be eaten by just
such a girl as you.

"FAITHFULLY YOURS,
"WILLIAM METCALF."

When Amy read this note aloud to Hallam and Cleena, she did so in a
proud and happy voice.

"Well, I've written letters for mother, and father, too, sometimes, but
I've not had many of my own. This is. I'm going to keep it always. The
very