talking of carting a couple of
loads of hay over to Gregson's this morning."

Andy's heart sank at this. He did not tell the man about the fire.
Backing away gloomily, he went out into the road again.

Every point in the landscape suggested some section of his morning's
misfortunes. Andy craned his neck as he took in a distant view of the
old school-house.

He made out a female figure approaching it. Andy recognized the green
bombazine dress of Miss Lavinia Talcott. She carried a baggy umbrella in
her hand. Andy from experience knew that its possession by the old maid
was generally a sign that she was on the war-path.

"She's hunting for me," thought Andy. "I suppose I've got to face the
music some time, but I'll not do it just now, I've got some business to
attend to, first."

Andy hurried down the Centreville turnpike. He walked along briskly,
more to get out of possible range of Miss Lavinia than with any other
distinct motive in mind. Still, Andy had "business" in view. That burned
down haystack haunted him. Somehow he must square himself with Mr. Dale,
he said. He fancied he had found a way.

Andy did not pause until he was fully a mile down the highway. He felt
safe from interruption now, and sat down on an old log and mused in a
dreamy, drifting sort of a way.

The sound of approaching wagon wheels disturbed him in the midst of a
depressing reverie.

"It's Mr. Dale," said Andy, getting up from the log and viewing the
approaching team. "I wanted to see you, Mr. Dale," he spoke aloud as the
carry-all came abreast of him.

"Oh, hello, you, Wildwood," spoke the farmer with a grin. "Playing
hookey, eh?"

"No, sir," answered Andy frankly. "I was expelled from school this
morning."

"Do tell me now!" said Dale. "Want a lift?"

"No, sir," answered Andy, "I just wanted to take up a minute of your
time. I'm sorry, Mr. Dale, I don't suppose you think any too much of me
already, and when I tell you--"

"Hey? Ha! ha!" chuckled Dale. "Think I'm sore on you because of that
calf business? Not at all, not at all. Why, I got double price for the
critter, see?"

"There's something else," announced Andy seriously. "The truth is, Mr.
Dale, I burned down one of your haystacks about an hour ago."

"What! You burned one of my haystacks? Which one--which one?" demanded
Dale, growing pale with excitement.

"The little one to the north-east of the field," explained Andy. "I
should think it held between two and three t