very much whether her parentage will ever be
known, and perhaps it is just as well that it isn't to be. Still, I am
interested."

"Mamma, I think it would be very nice to ask her to come to Boston for a
week or two, don't you?" suggested Edith Bonner, warmly but doubtfully.

"Bully!" exclaimed Wicker, forgetting in his excitement that he was a
cripple. "Have her come on to stop a while with you, Ede. It will be a
great treat for her and, by George, I'm inclined to think it maybe
somewhat beneficial to us."

"Your enthusiasm is beautiful, Wicker," said his mother, perfectly
unruffled. "I have no doubt you think Boston would be benefited, too."

"Now, you know, mother, it's not just like you to be snippish," said he
easily. "Besides, after living a while in other parts of the world, I'm
beginning to feel that population is not the only thing about Boston
that can be enlarged. It's all very nice to pave our streets with
intellect so that we can't stray from our own footsteps, but I rather
like the idea of losing my way, once in a while, even if I have to look
at the same common, old sky up there that the rest of the world looks
at, don't you know. I've learned recently that the same sun that shines
on Boston also radiates for the rest of the world."

"Yes, it shines in Tinkletown," agreed his mother serenely. "But, my
dear--" turning to her daughter--"I think you would better wait a while
before extending the invitation. There is no excuse for rushing into the
unknown. Let time have a chance."

"By Jove, mother, you talk sometimes like Anderson Crow. He often says
things like that," cried Wicker delightedly.

"Dear me! How can you say such a thing, Wicker?"

"Well, you'd like old Anderson. He's a jewel!"

"I dare say--an emerald. No, no--that was not fair or kind, Wicker. I
unsay it. Mr. Crow and all of them have been good to you. Forgive me the
sarcasm. Mr. Crow is perfectly impossible, but I like him. He has a
heart, and that is more than most of us can say. And now let us return
to earth once more. When will you be ready to start for Boston?
To-morrow?"

"Heavens, no! I'm not to be moved for quite a long time--danger of
gangrene or something of the sort. It's astonishing, mother, what
capable men these country doctors are. Dr. Smith is something of a
marvel. He--he--saved my leg."

"My boy--you don't mean that--" his mother was saying, her voice
trembling.

"Yes; that's what I mean. I'm all right now, but