ent
among these people, like innocent children all they seemed to him, but
interested him the more in them. Their unhappiness disturbed him and yet
his own mission was to make them more unhappy still.

Jessica was angry, indignant, and amused by turns; but these troubles
were changing her swiftly from a careless little girl to a sadly
perplexed captain, and she rode along in silence, for most of the way,
forgetting entirely that she had meant to take quite another route, or
that her present errand was to exhibit the wonders of her beloved
Sobrante.

They cantered peacefully downward across the valley, old Stiffleg himself
leading the way, till they struck upon the main road and saw in the
distance a vehicle crawling forward upon it.

"Oh! oh!" cried Jessica, who had been first to observe this object.

"Heigho! What's that--a circus?" asked Mr. Hale, gazing curiously at
the strange wagon.

Ephraim shaded his eyes with his hand and peered into the distance. Then
he dropped it, and drooping ridiculously, groaned:

"Oh! my fathers!"

"Looks like a circus. All the colors of the rainbow," persisted Mr.
Hale, glad of any diversion to his perturbed thoughts.

"'Tis a circus, temperance union, a salvation army, a woman's rights
convention, what Samson calls a Mother Carey's chicken, an Amazon, a
wild Indian, a--a--shucks! There isn't anything on earth that yonder
doesn't try a hand at. Land of Goshen! I'd almost rather turn and go
back to be jawed by the Dutchwoman. And I've come home--just for this!"

But Jessica was laughing as she had not laughed all day, and if the
person driving along in front was objectionable to Ephraim it was
evidently not the fact in her case.

"Oh! how glad I am!" she cried, and touched Buster to his swiftest
gallop, while the sharpshooter grimaced and groaned:

"To have come back to this!"

CHAPTER X

AUNT SALLY

"Aunt Sally! Aunt Sally, wait for me!"

At the shrill cry and the clatter of Buster's feet the crawling vehicle
came to a standstill, and from under its canvas cover peered the smiling
face of a hale, elderly woman, whose gray head was bare save for its
abundant crown of curling hair. A straw Shaker bonnet, with green
curtains, hung over her shoulders. Her print gown was of brilliant
pink and her capacious apron of blue gingham. She was collarless and
her sleeves were tucked above her round elbows, but she was clean,
as if just from a laundry. Indeed, at that momen