t her, that I can't realize that it isn't all a
joke. But, I suppose, it is serious enough from her point of view, and
I'm going to quit."

The walk to Farmer Cole's, enlivened by similar expressions of penitence
and good resolutions, was a very edifying excursion, and Peggy, in her
sympathy for Graham, almost forgot her anxiety concerning Hobo. She was
further relieved when the case was laid before Farmer Cole.

"Oh, he'll get over it all right," said that authority encouragingly.
"Being a cur dog, that way. Now, if you buy a highbred animal, and pay a
fancy price, it goes under at the least little thing. Never knew it to
fail. But to kill a cur, you've got to blow him up with dynamite."

"But they _do_ die," objected Peggy, who found it difficult to
accept the farmer's optimistic view, much as she wished to.

"Old age," said Farmer Cole. "That's all. A few scratches like that
ain't going to hurt a cur. But I paid through my nose for a blooded colt
a few years back, and 'twarn't a week before he cut himself on barbed
wire, and bled to death."

"It won't do any harm for her to use some of the salve," said Mrs. Cole,
and went to her medicine closet in search of the remedy. Rosetta Muriel
smoothed her hair, with a motion that set her bracelets jingling, and
cast a provocative glance at Graham. Rosetta Muriel admired Graham
extremely. In spite of his shabby clothing, there was about him the
indefinable air which Jerry had recognized and which had led him to
classify the young man as a "city dude."

"I should have thought that Raymond girl would have put on something
more stylisher," reflected Rosetta Muriel, casting a disapproving glance
at Peggy's gingham. "I haven't seen her in a nice dress yet." Had she
been in Peggy's place, she would have known better how to improve her
opportunities, she felt sure.

Owing to Hobo's injuries, the event which up to the time of the accident
had seemed to Peggy so tremendously important, had been quite cast in
the shade. She recalled it as Mrs. Cole brought out the salve. "Oh, I
didn't tell you. My chickens have hatched."

"Turned out pretty well, did they?" asked Mrs. Cole, smiling at Peggy
benevolently. Peggy was an immense favorite with the good woman, a fact
which Rosetta Muriel recognized with irritated wonder. She asked herself
frequently why it was that folks got so crazy over that Raymond girl,
"with no style to speak of."

"There's only six hatched yet. I've put them i