in your pony cart
and talked real sensible----"

"Couldn't have meant me, then, could he, Jim?"

"Don't fool, Dorothy. He looks as if he was in some trouble. He's the
head man from Oliver Sands's grist-mill. Some relation to the miller,
I've heard, and lives with him. Hurry up and don't hender the raft of
us any longer'n you can help. Tell him, whatever his business is,
'twill have to wait, 't we're going to the Fair and all the teams are
ready----"

"Yes, I'll hurry. Where is he?"

"In that little summer-house beyond the lily pond. That's where he
said he'd go. Get rid of him quick, for the horses don't like to stand
after they're harnessed."

"All right, I'll try!" Gayly waving her hand in the direction of the
piazza, she sped across the lawn to a group of silver birches, and the
spot in question. Solidly roofed, with vine covered sides, and good
board floor, the out-of-door building was a pleasant place, and had
been greatly enjoyed by all the House Party. It was well furnished
with wicker tables, chairs, and lounges, and heavy matting covered the
floor. It was empty now except for the old man awaiting Dorothy, and
his first remark showed that he appreciated this bit of outdoor
comfort.

"It's real purty in here, ain't it? Anybody could spend a night here
and take no hurt, couldn't she?"

"Why, ye-es, I suppose so; if anybody wished. James told me you asked
for me. What is it, please, for we're just on the point of starting
for the County Fair, and I don't like to delay the others."

"Hmm. Yes. I suppose so. Hmm. Yes. Thee is the little girl that's had
such a story-paper kind of life, isn't thee? Don't remember me, but I
do thee. Gave me a ride once after that little piebald nag thee
swopped Oliver's calf for. Thee sees I know thee, if thee has forgot
me and how my floury clothes hit the black jacket thee wore, that day,
and dusted it well, 'Dusty miller' thee laughed and called me, sayin'
that was some sort of plant grows in gardens. But I knew that. Dorcas
has a whole bed of it under her kitchen window. Hmm. Yes."

Dorothy tapped her foot impatiently, but did not sit down. Would the
man never tell his errand? Finally, as he lapsed into a reverie she
roused him, saying:

"What is your errand, please?"

"It's to help an old man in trouble. It--the--I don't find it so easy
to begin. But--is there a little old woman here, no bigger than a
child? Is she here? Is she safe?"

This was a question so unexp