ying down and nibbling at the grass within reach.

So far so good, but when Fannie began to consider the possibility of
walking home, with the chance of being picked up on the road by some one,
and getting her father to come and remove the nail, the load of groceries
loomed up before her. Not only did they represent considerable money
value, country reckoning, and there was no house within half a mile
either way, but some of the articles, such as lard, were in danger of
being ruined by the hot sun; so Fannie walked along the road, searching
the dust for the lost shoe, seeing no way out of her dilemma unless some
one should come by.

She did not find the shoe, but soon a cloud of dust from the town side
told of an approaching team, and she went to the shade of the only
near-by tree and waited.

A moment later, the team coming up proved to be a freshly painted
runabout, drawn by a fine bay horse in trim harness, driven by the
average stable boy; while beside him sat a smooth-faced, keen-eyed man,
rather under middle age, dressed in a spotless light suit, tan shoes,
lilac shirt, opalesque tie, finished above by a Panama hat pinched into
many dimples.

He was evidently a man of quick action, for he saw the girl and horseless
wagon at a glance, touched the reins, stopped the horse, and jumped out
before Fannie could think, taking off his hat and saying:--

"Lady in distress, runaway horse, lucky not to have upset load--can I be
of any use?" all in one breath.

Fannie had never read Dickens, so that no comparison with the speech of
Alfred Jingle arose to make her distrustful, which was unnecessary, and
the bowing figure appeared to her the perfection of up-to-date manly
elegance. Could it--yes, it must be a guest on the way to the Bluffs.

She blushingly explained the complication, feeling almost ashamed to
mention her fears as to the melting lard, it seemed so insignificant in
such a presence; but he quickly reassured her by going to the wagon,
pulling it energetically under the tree, and spreading the linen lap-robe
over the goods, the effort causing streams of perspiration to alter the
stately appearance of a three-inch high collar. Next he sprang over the
fence into the field, found that the nail was too firmly wedged to be
drawn from the horse's hoof with either fingers or a wagon wrench, and
returned to the road again.

"Now, may I ask where you live?" he said, dusting himself off with
vigorous flips of a large