n irregular beat of hoofs sounded around a bend, and a
clattering wagon drew steadily nearer.

The egg-and-chicken man jumped out and strode angrily toward the
little group.

"I've caught you, have I, you young----"

"'Sh!"

The boy put up a warning hand.

"She's fast asleep," he whispered. "Are you goin' to take her home?"

The man stared.

"Oh, I'm no child-stealer," said the boy lightly. "Here, just lift
her soft with me, and I'll bet we can put her in without waking her
up at all."

Without a word, the man slipped his hands under Caroline's
shoulders, the boy lifted her dusty boots, and gently unloosing her
arm from the dog, they carried her lax little body carefully to the
wagon and laid her on the clean straw in the bottom, her head on a
folded coat. She stirred and half opened her eyes, murmured broken
words, and sank yet deeper into her dream.

The man pointed to a book on the seat.

"That's her lesson-book," he whispered hoarsely. It was the despised
geography.

"Her folks think a heap of her, I tell you," he added, still eying
the boy uncertainly. "She's about as bright as they make 'em, I
guess."

"I guess she is," said the lad simply. "She'd ought to have been a
boy. She'd have made a fine one."

The man's face cleared.

"Do--do you want a job?" he said abruptly. "We're short up at my
place, and I wouldn't mind the dog. I remember you, now. You caught
a chicken for me once; my wife gave you a hot supper."

The boy smiled faintly and shook his head. "I remember," he said.
"No, I don't believe I want any job, thank you. I--I'm sort of--I
have to keep along."

"Keep along? Where?"

He waved his hand vaguely.

"Oh, just along," he repeated. "This year, anyhow. Maybe--well,
good-by. Her folks might be gettin' anxious."

He stepped up to the cart and looked once more at the flushed cheeks
and brown hands, then strode off up the road.

The egg-and-chicken man gathered up the reins and the wagon started.
Caroline scowled a little at the motion, but slept on. The boy
whistled to the dog.

"Come on, William Thayer," he said. "I guess it's just you and me
now."

II

A LITTLE VICTORY FOR THE GENERAL

Caroline, Miss Honey, and the General were taking the morning air.
Caroline walked ahead, her chin well up, her nose sniffing
pleasurably the unaccustomed asphalt, the fresh damp of the river
and the watered bridle path. The starched ties at the back of her
white pinafore fairly