caused him to
turn.

"Professor!" cried the little girl. She was puffing so hard that she
could not continue.

"Bless my heart!" said the professor, descending to the lowest step and
catching her by the hand.

"Oh, professor!" she cried again.

"Yes? Yes?" he said inquiringly. The train was starting and there was no
time to be lost. She ran beside it for a few steps.

"I did that!" The little girl pointed at the pasteboard under his arm.
She fell back. The cars were moving rapidly now, and she was too tired
to pursue them.

"You!" gasped the professor, clapping one hand to the drawings; _"you!_"

"Well--well--not me, but a boy," she added chokingly.

The professor put his hands to his head, and the squares, escaping his
arm, were blown from the steps and fluttered upon the graveled
embankment. The little girl saw them fall and ran forward to secure
them. He did not see her. He was sitting on the top step of the
fast-receding train, his face covered as if to shut out a fearful sight,
his coat-sleeves pressing his ears as if to deaden a shout of ridicule.

The little girl looked after him, holding the pasteboards in her hands.
"I'm sorry," she said out loud, "that nobody made these a long time ago.
But they couldn't, 'cause they're my 'nitials."

Then she walked back toward the grand stand, where the band, with small
boys encircling it, was rendering the final number of the program,--a
resounding "America."

XIII

A RACE AND A RESCUE

"WHAT'RE you doin' under there?" asked the biggest brother, looking
beneath the canopied bed, where the little girl was lying on her back,
her feet braced at right angles to the loose board slats above her.

There was no answer, but the broad counterpane of bright calico squares
that, by its heaving, had betrayed her presence, became suddenly still.

"Because," continued the biggest brother, "I'm goin' to the station this
afternoon with the blue mare and the buckboard. And if you ain't doin'
nothing and want to go along, just slide out and meet me on the corn
road."

He exchanged his gingham jumper for a coat at the elk antlers in the
entry, and left the house. When his whistle was swallowed up by the
barn, the little girl crept stealthily from her hiding-place, washed her
feet, changed her apron, and, under cover of the kitchen, hurried
eastward to the oat-field. Having gained it, she turned north, crouching
low as she ran.

* * * *