oss-roads. Some of the
children always insist on walking part way home with me, especially
little Billy here. Usually he behaves very nicely, but today he seems to
be out of luck. His nose started leaking fully half an hour ago. He must
have leaked quarts and quarts, all over himself and me. You wouldn't
think he could have a drop left in him. I was just about crazy when I
saw you coming. There's Dr. Baker's house on the right around that next
curve. And say, there's some speed to this bus of yours, Mr.--er----"

"Cutler," says Babe. "Here we are. Anything more I can do?"

"Why," says Miss Snell, as I'm unbuttonin' the door for her, "you might
stick around a few minutes to see if he wants little Billy taken to the
hospital or anything. I'll let you know." And with that she trips in.

"Lively young party, eh?" I remarks to Babe. "Don't mind askin' for what
she wants."

"Perfectly all right, too," says he, "in a case like this. She isn't one
of the helpless kind. Some pep to her, I'll bet. Lucy, eh? I always did
like that name."

I had to chuckle. "What about the Snell part?" says I. "That one of your
favorite names, too?"

"N--n--no," says Babe. "But she'll probably change that some of these
days. She's the sort that does, you know."

"I expect you are right, at that," I agrees.

Pretty soon out she comes again, calm and smilin'. It's some smile she
has, by the way. Wide and generous and real folksy. And now that the
scare has faded out of her eyes they have more or less snap to 'em.
They're the bright brown kind, that match her hair, and the freckles
across the bridge of her nose.

"It's all right," says she. "Dr. Baker says the ice pack did the trick.
And he'll take Billy home as soon as he's cleaned him up a bit. Thanks,
Mr. Cutler."

"Oh, I might as well drive you home, too, and finish the job," says
Babe.

"Well, I'm not missing anything like that, I can tell you," says Miss
Snell. "I'm simply soaked with that youngster's gore. But I live way
back on the other road. My! Billy dripped some on your seat cushions,
didn't he?"

"Oh, that will wash out," says Babe careless. "You're fond of
youngsters, I suppose?"

"Well, in a way I am," says she. "I'm used to 'em anyway, being one of
six myself. That's why I'm out teaching--makes one less for Dad to have
to rustle for. He keeps the little plumber's shop down opposite the
station. You've seen the sign--T. Snell."

"I've no doubt I have," says Babe. "And