see. His eyes and his ears too, are as
sharp as an Indian's! Pity that there isn't a better prospect of his
amounting to something."

Peggy was delighted with the opportunity to discuss Jerry's case with
some one inclined to appreciate the boy's good qualities. "He's got
started wrong," she explained. "He's not really lazy, but he seems lazy
to the people here. They think he's worthless and he resents that, and
so he fancies he hates everybody. You see, he hasn't any father or
mother. He lives with his grandmother and she--"

"Dear me! How do you pick up so much about that sort of people?"
demanded Claire, suppressing a yawn rather unsuccessfully. Claire found
such topics of conversation far from entertaining, and was perfectly
willing that Peggy should realize this fact. But Peggy herself was too
interested to suspect that Claire was bored.

"Oh, I asked Mrs. Cole about him," she replied. "Graham, I wish you'd
talk to him if you get a chance, and try to wake up his ambition. It's a
shame for such a bright boy to grow up with the reputation of being a
loafer."

Graham shook his head. "Guess I wouldn't be much of a success as a home
missionary. You'd better try your hand on him yourself, Peggy."

"Me? Oh, I do," Peggy answered simply. "But, perhaps he'd think more of
it coming from a boy." And Graham reaching for another fish, reflected
that a girl like Peggy Raymond could not even go away for a summer
vacation without framing innumerable little plots for helping people,
with or without their cooperation. Ruth had told him of the
berrying-bee, and mentioned casually that Peggy was going to give Lucy
Haines lessons in algebra. At the same time she was puzzling her head
over the possibility of turning the good-for-nothing of the community
into a useful citizen. Humility was not Graham's dominant
characteristic, but for the moment the popular young collegian had a
queer and uncomfortable sense of amounting to very little.

Dorothy rescued him from this unwonted self-depreciation by bursting on
the scene with eyes distended to their widest. "Aunt Peggy, your old
hen's scolding--and scolding."

"Now, Dorothy, you mustn't go near her nest."

"I stood 'way off by the door and jus' looked at her an' she talked as
cross as anything."

"Oh, I wonder--What day is it, anyway?" Peggy disappeared through the
open door of the woodshed, to have her jubilant suspicions instantly
confirmed. The yellow hen was in a mood of extr