close in thought
and vague well-being to the boy who puffed blue rings toward the
little river, his head on his arms.

"I put the plate into that door in the barn," he said, finally.
"Did you put those silver things back?"

Caroline grunted assent.

"But they wouldn't think that you--what you said," she assured him
earnestly. "It's only tramps they're afraid of."

He glanced quickly over at her, but she was utterly innocent.

"One came to the kitchen once, and asked Mary for some hot tea or
coffee, and she hadn't any, but she said if he was very hungry she'd
give him a piece of bread and butter, and he said to go to hell with
her bread and butter. So she doesn't like them."

The boy gasped.

"You oughtn't to--had you--that isn't just right for you to say, is
it?" he asked awkwardly.

"What--hell?" Caroline inquired placidly. "No, I s'pose not. Nor
damn nor devil, either. But, of course, I know 'em. Those are the
only three I know. I guess they're about the worst, though," she
added with pardonable pride. "My cousin, the Captain, knows some
more. He's twelve 'n a half. But he won't tell 'em to me. He says
boys always know more than girls. I suppose," respectfully, "you
know more than those three, yourself?"

Her companion coughed.

"A boy--" he began, then paused, confronted with her round, trustful
eyes.

"A boy--" he started again, and again he paused.

"Oh, well, a boy's different," he blurted, finally.

Caroline nodded humbly.

"Yes, I know," she murmured.

There was silence for a while. The river slipped liquidly over the
stones, the white clouds raced along the blue above them, the boy
smoked. At length he burst out with:

"You're all right, now! You're just a regular little chum, aren't
you?"

She blushed with pleasure.

"I never had anybody along with me," he went on dreamily. "I always
go alone. I--I didn't know how nice it was. I _had_ a chum once, but
he--he--"

The boy's voice trembled. Caroline's face clouded with sympathy.

"Did he die?" she ventured.

"No," he said, shortly; "no, he didn't die. He's alive. He couldn't
stand my ways. I tried to stay in school and--and all that, but soon
as spring came I had to be off. So the last time, he told me we had
to part, him and me."

"What was his name?" she asked gently.

The boy jerked his head toward the dog.

"_That's_ his name," he said, "William Thayer." A little frown
gathered on Caroline's smooth forehead; she felt instin