t I feel sure he won't--and Jims will never have any
chance. And he is such a bright little chap--he has ambition, wherever
he got it--and he isn't lazy. But his father will never have a cent to
give him any education or start in life. Jims, my little war-baby,
whatever is going to become of you?"

Jims was not in the least concerned over what was to become of him. He
was gleefully watching the antics of a striped chipmunk that was
frisking over the roof of the little siding. As the train pulled out
Jims leaned eagerly forward for a last look at Chippy, pulling his hand
from Rilla's. Rilla was so engrossed in wondering what was to become of
Jims in the future that she forgot to take notice of what was happening
to him in the present. What did happen was that Jims lost his balance,
shot headlong down the steps, hurtled across the little siding
platform, and landed in a clump of bracken fern on the other side.

Rilla shrieked and lost her head. She sprang down the steps and jumped
off the train.

Fortunately, the train was still going at a comparatively slow speed;
fortunately also, Rilla retained enough sense to jump the way it was
going; nevertheless, she fell and sprawled helplessly down the
embankment, landing in a ditch full of a rank growth of golden-rod and
fireweed.

Nobody had seen what had happened and the train whisked briskly away
round a curve in the barrens. Rilla picked herself up, dizzy but
unhurt, scrambled out of the ditch, and flew wildly across the
platform, expecting to find Jims dead or broken in pieces. But Jims,
except for a few bruises, and a big fright, was quite uninjured. He was
so badly scared that he didn't even cry, but Rilla, when she found that
he was safe and sound, burst into tears and sobbed wildly.

"Nasty old twain," remarked Jims in disgust. "And nasty old God," he
added, with a scowl at the heavens.

A laugh broke into Rilla's sobbing, producing something very like what
her father would have called hysterics. But she caught herself up
before the hysteria could conquer her.

"Rilla Blythe, I'm ashamed of you. Pull yourself together immediately.
Jims, you shouldn't have said anything like that."

"God frew me off the twain," declared Jims defiantly. "Somebody frew
me; you didn't frow me; so it was God."

"No, it wasn't. You fell because you let go of my hand and bent too far
forward. I told you not to do that. So that it was your own fault."

Jims looked to see if she mean