did? That's so, hossy; you're right there. But we ain't
complainin', you and me, I want you to understand. We've done real well
this trip, and before we get our little oats to-night we'll work off
every stick in the whole concern, you see if we don't, and have money to
put in the bank, io, money to put in the bank. Gitty up, you hossy!" He
flourished his whip round the brown horse's head and whistled a merry
tune.

"Hello! What's up now?"

Some one was standing at the turn of the road ahead, waving to him; a
child; a little girl in cloak and hood, her red-mittened hands
gesticulating wildly.

"We're a-comin', we're a-comin'!" said Calvin Parks. "Git there just the
very minute we git there, you see if we don't. Why, Mittie May! you
don't mean to tell me this is you?"

"Oh! yes, please!" cried the child. "Oh! please will you come and see
Miss Fidely? oh! please will you?"

"There! there! little un; why, you're all out of breath. Been runnin',
have ye?"

"Oh, yes!" panted Mittie May. "I ran all the way, for fear I wouldn't
get here before you went by. Will you come and see Miss Fidely, Mr.
Candy Man?"

"Well!" said Calvin, "that depends, little gal. There's three p'ints I'd
like to consider in this connection and as touchin' this matter, as old
parson used to say. First, is Miss Fidely good-lookin' and agreeable
_to_ see? Second, does she anyways want to see me? Third, how far off
does she live? It's gettin' on towards sundown, and hossy and me have a
good ways to go before we get our oats."

"It's not far," said the child. "And she wants to see you terrible bad.
Her goods ain't come that she ordered, and the tree's all up, and the
boys and girls all comin' to-morrow, and no candy. And I told her about
you, and how you mostly came along this road Wednesdays, and she said
run and catch you if I could, and I run!"

"I should say you did!" said Calvin. "Now you hop right in here with me,
little gal! Hopsy upsy--there she comes! Let me tuck you in good--so!
now you tell me which way to go, and hossy and me'll git there. That's a
fair division, ain't it?"

Still panting, the child pointed down a narrow cross-road, on which at
some distance stood a solitary house.

"That the house?" asked Calvin. Mittie May nodded.

"I hope Miss Fidely ain't large for her size," said Calvin; "she might
fit rayther snug if she was."

It was a tiny house, gray and weather-beaten; but the windows were trim
with white curtains and