laced, for, after all, they _are_ happy in their way. I
do not think it is always the best way; still--Why, here's 'Bony.' Well,
young man, what mischief's up now? Do you march again to-night?"

"No. I'm going with her."

"Best wait till you're invited," suggested the superintendent.

The lad said nothing, but kept on tying into a compact bundle all the
branches heaped upon the ground, and to which he had made a considerable
addition during Amy's inspection of the mill. He had begged a bit of
rope from the office in the street above; and when he had secured the
boughs to his satisfaction, he slung them across his shoulder.

"Come on. I'll pack 'em for you to where you live."

He seemed none the worse for his fall into the water, and Amy laughed;
not only at the readiness with which he constituted himself her
assistant, but also at Pepita's frantic efforts to ascend the steep
stairway.

"Thank you. But if we can get her up there, above, she can carry the
stuff herself. I can walk, when I am told the road."

"Up she goes she!" shouted the startling Lafayette, and gave the
unprepared burro a sharp prod with a stick he held.

Astonished, Pepita leaped to escape the attack and landed her forefeet
upon the fourth stair.

"Hi! There you be! You're a regular Rep-Dem-Prob! Up you go--I tell
you!"

"Oh! you dreadful boy!" exclaimed Amy, and tried to take the stick from
the fellow's hand.

"Don't. He isn't hurting her, and she _is_ going up!" laughed the
superintendent, as the burro made another skyward spring. But his
merriment suddenly ceased.

The "Californian" could use her nimble feet for more than one purpose.
She resented the indignity of her present position in the only manner
possible to her, and when a third prod touched her dainty flesh, she
flung one heel backward, with an airy readiness that might have been
funny save for its result.

CHAPTER III.

FAIRACRES.

"How dreadful! Is he killed?" cried Amy, pale with fear.

For the indignant Pepita had planted her active hoof squarely in the
mouth of the lad who was tormenting her, and had knocked him backward
from the stair. During a brief time he lay, dazed by the blow, with a
trickle of blood rapidly staining his features.

"Wait. Don't get frightened. There may not be much damage done. That boy
has as many lives as a cat. I'll see to him," returned Mr. Metcalf,
quietly.

With a strong, kindly touch, the gentleman helped the unfortunate "Bo