Uncle Randal
said."

"You're the D--d--d--you're it, yourself, Harvey!" stammered Ned Vickery.

"You'd better look out, Ned," Harvey giggled, "we're all a little
nearer'n second cousins down here to Wallencamp. Ned's mother didn't use
to let him go to school much, teacher," Harvey added, turning to me; "it
used to wear him out luggin' home his 'Reward o' merit' cards."

"I n-n-never got any," Ned retorted, blushing desperately through his
dark skin; "n-n-nor you either!"

"I guess that's so, Harvey," said Lovell Barlow, quite gravely; "I rather
think that's so, Harvey--ahem, I guess it is."

When my visitors rose to depart they formed in line, with George Olver
and Luther at the head. George Olver was the spokesman of the group. He
offered me his strong brown hand in hearty corroboration of his words:
"We're a roughish sort of a set down here, teacher, but whenever you want
friends you'll know right whar' to find us; we mean that straight through
and fair an' kindly."

I thanked him, and then Luther gave me his hand, but did not kiss me, in
departing.

Each member of the phalanx gave me his hand in turn, with a hearty "Good
night," and so they passed out. The door closed behind them. I meditated
a space, and when I looked up, there was Lovell Barlow's pale face
peering into the room.

"Ahem--Miss Hungerford!" he murmured, in awful accents: "Miss
Hungerford!"

Could it be some telegram from my home thus mysteriously arrived? The
thought flashed through my mind before reason could act.

"What is it?" I gasped, hastening to meet the informer.

Lovell Barlow handed me a picture; it was a small daguerreotype, in which
the mild and beneficent features of that worthy being himself shone above
his own unmistakable spade-shaped whiskers.

"Would you like it, Miss Hungerford?" said he, still with the same deeply
impressive air; "would you, now, really, Miss Hungerford? would you like
it, now?"

"Why, certainly," I exclaimed, with intense relief; and before I could
fully appreciate the situation, Lovell Barlow cast a cautious glance
about him, leaned his head forward, and whispered hoarsely, "I've got
some more, at home--ahem! I've got six, Miss Hungerford. Mother wants to
keep two and she's promised Aunt Marcia one; but you can have one any
time, Miss Hungerford. Ahem! ahem! _You_ can, you know."

"Thank you," I murmured, while it seemed as though my faculties were
desperately searching for light on a hitherto u