ed to the window and looked out, but there was
no one on the steps or in the yard. He made up his mind that he
must have dreamed of the bell-ringing and was turning back to the
inner room, when a voice said:

"Please, are you the windmill man?"

Jed started, turned again, and stared about him.

"Please, sir, here I am," said the voice.

Jed, looking down, instead of up or on a level, saw his visitor
then. That is, he saw a tumbled shock of curls and a pair of big
round eyes looking up at him over a stock of weather vanes.

"Hello!" he exclaimed, in surprise.

The curls and eyes came out from behind the stack of vanes. They
were parts of a little girl, and the little girl made him a demure
little courtesy.

"How do you do?" she said.

Jed regarded her in silence for a moment. Then, "Why, I'm fair to
middlin' smart just at present," he drawled. "How do YOU find
yourself to-day?"

The young lady's answer was prompt and to the point. "I'm nicely,
thank you," she replied, and added: "I was sick at my stomach
yesterday, though."

This bit of personal information being quite unexpected, Mr.
Winslow scarcely knew what comment to make in reply to it.

"Sho!" he exclaimed. "Was you, though?"

"Yes. Mamma says she is 'clined to think it was the two whole
bananas and the choc'late creams, but I think it was the fried
potatoes. I was sick twice--no, three times. Please, I asked you
something. Are you the windmill man?"

Jed, by this time very much amused, looked her over once more. She
was a pretty little thing, although just at this time it is
doubtful if any of her family or those closely associated with her
would have admitted it. Her face was not too clean, her frock was
soiled and mussed, her curls had been blown into a tangle and there
were smooches, Jed guessed them to be blackberry stains, on her
hands, around her mouth and even across her small nose. She had a
doll, its raiment in about the same condition as her own, tucked
under one arm. Hat she had none.

Mr. Winslow inspected her in his accustomed deliberate fashion.

"Guess you've been havin' a pretty good time, haven't you?" he
inquired.

The small visitor's answer was given with dignity.

"Yes," she said. "Will you please tell me if you are the windmill
man?"

Jed accepted the snub with outward humility and inward appreciation.

"Why, yes," he admitted; "I presume likely I'm the windmill man.
Is there anything I can do for yo