o
that livery stable. Seems funny, doesn't it, to stable aeroplanes in a
livery stable?"

"Well, why not? Wasn't Pegasus, the first flying machine on record,
a horse?"

"Humph; that's so," agreed Jimsy, whose supply of classical knowledge
was none too plentiful.

It was not long after this that the girls returned. With them came The
Wren in a neat dress and new shoes, an altogether different looking
little personage from the waif of the woods whom they had rescued at
noon.

"Why, Wren," cried Peggy, "you are positively pretty. In a month's time
we won't know you."

"A month's time?" sighed the child; "am I going to stay with you as long
as that?"

Miss Prescott caught the wan little figure in her arms.

"Yes, and many months after that," she cried.

Roy and Jimsy exchanged glances.

"Another member of the family," exclaimed Roy; "if we go at this rate
we'll have acquired an entire set of new sisters by the time we reach
the Big Smokies."

CHAPTER IX.

JIMSY FALLS ASLEEP.

"Anybody been around, Tam?"

Roy asked the question, as later on that evening he and Jimsy dropped
around to the disused livery stable in accordance with their plan.

Tam shook his head.

"Nobody bane round," he rejoined, and then, after a moment's pause,
"'cept Yim Cassell and his boy Dan."

"Jim Cassell and his son," echoed Roy, "the very people we don't want
around here. What did they want?"

"They want know where you bane," rejoined the Norwegian youth.

"Yes; and what did you tell them?"

"I bane tell them I skall not know," responded Tam.

"And then?"

"They bane ask me if ay have key by door."

"Oh, they did, eh? What did you say?"

"I say I bane not have key."

"Then what did they do?"

"They bane go 'way."

"Didn't say anything else?"

"No, they must go."

"Said nothing about coming back?"

"No."

"All right, Tarn, you can go home now. Here's your money."

"You bane want me no more?"

"No; we'll watch here ourselves to-night. Good night."

"Good night," rejoined Tam, pocketing his money and shuffling off down
the street.

He had hardly gone two blocks when from the shadow of an elm-shaded yard
the figure of Dan Cassell slipped out and intercepted him.

"So you've been fired, eh?"

He shot the question at the simple-minded Norwegian lad with vicious
emphasis.

"No, I no bane fired; they bane tell me no want me more."

"Well, isn't that being fired? Moreover, I can tell you that the