" proclaimed Walky. "An'
that remin's me," added he. "Did yer see that feller go by on one o'
them gasoline bikes?"

"On the motorcycle?"

"Ya-as."

"I saw him," admitted Janice.

"Know him?"

"Of course not. He doesn't belong in Poketown, I'm sure."

"Mebbe he will," said Walky, his eyes twinkling with fun again.

Janice looked at him, puzzled.

"Ain't you heard?" he questioned. "'Rill Scattergood's resigned and
the school committee is lookin' for a new teacher. _That_ feller's got
the bee in his bonnet, they told me at Middletown."

"The school-teaching bee?" laughed the girl.

"Yep. He'd been for his certif'cate. He's been writin' to the
Poketown committee."

"But--but he isn't much more than a boy himself, is he?"

"They tell me he's been through college. Must be a smart youngster
for, as you say, he's nothin' but a kid."

"I didn't say that!" cried Janice, in some little panic, for she knew
Dexter's proneness to gossip. "Don't you dare say I did!"

He chuckled. "Wa-al, ye meant it. Come now--didn't ye? An' he _is_ a
mighty young feller ter be teachin' school. 'Specially with sech big
girls an' boys in it. He'll have ter fight the boys, it's likely, an'
I shouldn't wonder if the big gals set their caps for him."

"I'm afraid you're a very reckless talker, Mr. Dexter," sighed Janice.
Then her hazel eyes brightened suddenly, and she added, "They ought to
call you 'Talky' Dexter, instead of 'Walky', I believe."

"'Talkworthy Dexter', eh?" he grinned.

"I'm not sure that you _do_ always _talk worthy_," she told him,
shaking a serious head. "You're very apt to say things to 'stir folks
all up,' as my Aunt says. Oh, yes, you do! You know you do, Mr.
Dexter."

"Wal, I declare!" chuckled the man, but with a queer little side glance
at the serious face of the girl. "Think I'm a trouble-breeder, do ye?"

"You just ask yourself that, sir," said Janice, firmly. "You know
you're just delighted if you can say something to start things going,
as you call it. And it isn't worthy of you----"

"Whether I'm 'Talkworthy', or 'Walkworthy', eh?" he broke in, laughing.

"Oh, I didn't mean any offence!" exclaimed Janice, much disturbed now
to think that she had criticised the man just as he was in the habit of
criticising everybody else.

"I snum! mebbe you're right," grunted Walky Dexter. "And I reckon
talkin' don't do much good after all. Now, look at Cross Moore. I
been at him a year a