o meet the newcomer but had kept out of sight until now.

"Howdy, Marse Jim. Howdy."

Then he picked up the bag of books and shrugged his shoulders at its
weight. Setting it back on the sidewalk he raised his hand and
beckoned small Methuselah, half-hiding behind a pillar of the
building. That youngster came tremblingly forward. He was attired in
his livery, that he had been forbidden to wear when "off duty," or
save when in attendance upon "Miss Betty." But having been so recently
promoted to the glory of a uniform he appeared in it whenever
possible.

On this trip to the station he had lingered till his grandfather had
already boarded the street-car and too late for him to be sent home to
change. Now he cowered before Ephraim's frown and fear of what would
happen when they two were alone together in the "harness room" of the
old stable. On its walls reposed other whips than those used for Mrs.
Calvert's horses.

"Yeah, chile. Tote dem valeeshes home. Doan' yo let no grass grow,
nudder, whiles yo' doin' it. I'll tend to yo' case bimeby. I ain'
gwine fo'get."

Then he put the little fellow aboard the first car that came by,
hoisted the luggage after him, and had to join in the mirth the
child's appearance afforded--with his scrawny body half-buried beneath
the livery "made to grow in."

Jim was laughing, too, yet anxious over the disappearance of his
books, and explained to Dorothy:

"That gray telescope's full of Mr. Seth's books. We better get the
next car an' follow, else maybe he'll lose 'em."

"He'll not dare. And we're not going home yet. We're going down to the
Water Lily. Oh! she's a beauty! and think that we can do just what we
like with her! No, not that one! This is our car. It runs away down to
the jumping-off place of the city and out to the wharves beyond. Yes,
of course, Ephraim will go with us. That's why Metty was brought
along. To take your things home and to let Aunt Betty know you had
come. O Jim, I'm so worried!"

He looked and laughed his surprise, but she shook her head, and when
they were well on their way disclosed her perplexities, that were,
indeed, real and serious enough.

"Jim Barlow, Aunt Betty's got to give up Bellvieu--and it's just
killing her!"

"Dolly Doodles--what you sayin'?"

It sounded very pleasant to hear that old pet name again and proved
that this was the same loving, faithful Jim, even if he did hate
kissing. But then he'd always done that.

"I mean just wh