some dazzling dreams as
he sat there on the bench under the Belltown chestnuts. Passers-by, if
they noticed him at all, saw merely a rather small, poorly clad boy,
with a great many freckles, a square jaw and shrewd, level-gazing grey
eyes. But this same lad was mapping out a very brilliant future for
himself as people passed him heedlessly by. He would get out West,
somehow or other, some time or other, and make a fortune. Then,
perhaps, he would go back to Upton for a visit and shine in his
splendour before all his old neighbours. It all seemed very easy and
alluring, sitting there in the quiet little Belltown square. Chester,
you see, possessed imagination. That, together with the crackers and
cheese, so cheered him up that he felt ready for anything. He was
aroused from a dream of passing Aunt Harriet by in lofty scorn and a
glittering carriage, by the shrill whistle of the boat. Chester
pocketed his remaining crackers and cheese and his visions also, and
was once more his alert, wide-awake self. He had inquired the way to
the wharf from the grocer, so he found no difficulty in reaching it.
When the boat steamed down the muddy little river, Chester was on
board of her.

He was glad to be out of Belltown, for he was anything but sure that
he would not encounter some Upton people as long as he was in it. They
often went to Belltown on business, but never to Montrose.

There were not many passengers on the boat, and Chester scrutinized
them all so sharply in turn that he could have sworn to each and every
one of them for years afterwards had it been necessary. The one he
liked best was a middle-aged lady who sat just before him on the
opposite side of the deck She was plump and motherly looking, with a
fresh, rosy face and beaming blue eyes.

"If I was looking for anyone to adopt me I'd pick her," said Chester
to himself. The more he looked at her, the better he liked her. He
labelled her in his mind as "the nice, rosy lady."

The nice, rosy lady noticed Chester staring at her after awhile. She
smiled promptly at him--a smile that seemed fairly to irradiate her
round face--and then began fumbling in an old-fashioned reticule she
carried, and from which she presently extracted a chubby little paper
bag.

"If you like candy, little boy," she said to Chester, "here is some of
my sugar taffy for you."

Chester did not exactly like being called a little boy. But her voice
and smile were irresistible and won his hear