'em cut off--and sat around and carved while Aunt Ellen taught
school. Happy they were--no one happier. Brought me up, you know. Didn't
have a father or mother--just gathered me in. Good sort, those.
Uncle Ben's gone, but Aunt Ellen's a mother to me yet. Thinks of me,
travelling, travelling, never putting my head down in the same bed two
nights running; and here and there and everywhere she overtakes me with
little scraps out of home. That's Aunt Ellen for you!"

As the delicious sugar melted on my tongue, the sorrows melted in my
soul, and I was just about to make some inquiries about Aunt Ellen,
whose personal qualities seemed to be growing clearer and clearer in my
mind, when my conductor came striding down the aisle.

"Where's my little girl?" he demanded heartily. "Ah, there she is, just
where I left her, in good company and eating maple sugar, as I live."

"Well, she hain't bin there all the time now, I ken tell ye that!" cried
the old woman with a face like a hen.

"Indeed, she ain't!" the other women joined in. "She's a mischief-makin'
child, that's what she is!" said the mother. The little girl was looking
over her grandmother's shoulder, and she ran out a very red, serpent-like
tongue at me.

"She's a good girl, and almost as fond of Aunt Ellen as I am," said the
large man, finding my pocket, and putting a huge piece of maple sugar in
it.

The conductor, meantime, was gathering my things, and with a "Come
along, now! This is where you change," he led me from the car. I glanced
back once, and the hen-faced woman shook her withered brown fist at me,
and the large man waved and smiled. The conductor and I ran as hard as
we could, he carrying my light luggage, to a stage that seemed to be
waiting for us. He shouted some directions to the driver, deposited me
within, and ran back to his train. And I, alone again, looked about me.

We were in the heart of a little town, and a number of men were standing
around while the horses took their fill at the watering-trough. This
accomplished, the driver checked up the horses, mounted to his high
seat, was joined by a heavy young man; two gentlemen entered the inside
of the coach, and we were off.

One of these gentlemen was very old. His silver hair hung on his
shoulders; he had a beautiful flowing heard which gleamed in the light,
the kindest of faces, lit with laughing blue eyes, and he leaned forward
on his heavy stick and seemed to mind the plunging of our vehi