nkney,
gloom corrugating his brow, an angry flush in his cheeks, and sullenly
kicking the toe first of one shoe and then the other against the pickets
of the fence where he stood.

It was evident that Sammy had been forbidden freedom other than that of
his own premises. He stared across at the smallest Corner House girl;
but he was too miserable even to hail Dot.

After all, it seemed to the latter, that Sammy was being inordinately
punished for having given Sandyface and her family an aerial ride.
Besides, misery loves company. Dot was in no mood to mingle with the
joyous and free. But Sammy's state appealed to her deeply.

She finally got up off the step and strolled out of the yard and across
the street.

"'Lo, Sammy," she said, as the boy continued to stare in another
direction though knowing very well that she was present before him.

"'Lo, Dot," he grumbled.

"What's the matter, Sammy?" she asked.

"Ain't nothin' the matter," he denied, kicking on the pickets again.

"Dear me," sighed Dot, "_I_ just think _every_thing's too mean for
_any_thing!"

"Huh!"

"And everybody at my house is mean to me, too," added the little girl,
stirring up her own bile by the audible reiteration of her thoughts.
"Yes, they are!"

"Huh!" repeated the scornful Sammy. "They ain't nowhere near as mean to
you as my folks are to me."

"You don't know--"

"Did they lick you?" demanded the boy fiercely.

"No-o."

"And then make you stay in your room and have your supper there?"

"No-o."

"Ma brought it up on a tray," the boy said fiercely, "so I couldn't get
no second helping of apple dumpling."

"Oh, Sammy!" Somehow, after all, his misery seemed greater than her own.
Yet there was a sore spot in the little girl's heart. "I--I wish I could
run away," she blurted out, never having thought of such a thing until
that very moment. "_Then_ they'd see."

"Hist!" breathed Sammy, coming closer and putting his lips as close to
the little girl's ear as the pickets would allow. "Hist! _I am going to
run away!_"

Dot took this statement much more calmly than he expected.

"Oh, yes," she said. "When you go to be a pirate. You've told me that
before, Sammy Pinkney." In fact, she had been hearing this threat ever
since she had come to the old Corner House and become acquainted with
this youngster.

"And I _am_ going to be a pirate," growled Sammy, with just as deep a
voice as he could muster.

"Oh! not _now_?" gasped Dot, su