Andy started for Fairview in a daze. So much had happened since morning
that he could recall it all only in a series of long mental pictures.
The kindness and suggestions of his new-found friends kept him
thinking deeply.

It was nearly dusk when Andy entered Fairview. He steered clear of old
comrades and familiar haunts. When he reached home it was by way of the
rear fence.

A light shone in the little kitchen. His aunt was bustling about in a
brisk, jumpy way that told Andy she was full of excitement and
bottled-up wrath.

"Here goes, anyway," he said finally, vaulting the fence and reaching
the woodshed.

Andy took up a good armful of wood, marched right up to the back steps
and through the open doorway. He placed his load behind the
kitchen stove.

"You graceless wretch!" were Miss Lavinia's first words.

She had a cooking fork in her hand and with it she jabbed the air
viciously.

"Go up stairs instantly," she commanded next.

"I'm not sleepy, and I'm hungry," said Andy respectfully enough, but
firmly.

He walked over to the set table and picked up two biscuits from a plate.

"Put those down, you put those down!" screamed Miss Lavinia. "Will you
mind me?"

Andy pocketed the biscuits. He was taking wise precautions in view of
past experiences with his termagant relative.

The boy stood his ground, and his aunt stamped her foot. Then she
reached behind the stove and took up a stick used as a carpet beater.
Armed with this she advanced threateningly upon Andy.

"Don't strike me, Aunt Lavinia," said Andy quickly. "I am getting too
big for that. I won't stand it!"

"You scamp! you disgrace!" shouted his irate relative, still advancing
upon him.

She beat at Andy, who snatched the stick from her hand, broke it in two
and threw it out through the open doorway.

"I will go to my room if you insist upon it," said Andy now. "I don't
see the need of treating me like a dog, though."

"Don't you?" screamed Miss Lavinia. "Oh, you precious rascal! Here I've
worked my fingers off to keep you respectable, and you go and disgrace
me shamefully. Go to your room, Andy Wildwood. We'll attend to this
matter of yours in the morning."

"What matter?" demanded Andy.

"Never mind, now. Do as I say. There's a rod in pickle for you, young
man, that may bring you to your senses this time."

Andy preferred loneliness up stairs to nagging down stairs. He left the
kitchen and reached his own room. He lit a candle an