f the whole family--and Sammy Pinkney,
who threw a big cabbage-stalk after them for good luck and yelled his
derisive compliments.

"Fresh kid!" muttered Neale.

"I'd like to spank that boy," sighed Agnes. "There never was so bad a
boy since the world began, I believe!"

"I expect that's what the neighbors said about little Cain and Abel,"
chuckled Neale, recovering his good-nature at once.

"Well," said Agnes, "Sammy's worse than little Tommy Rooney, who ran
away from Bloomingsburg to kill Indians."

"Did he kill any?" asked Neale.

"Not here in Milton," Agnes said, laughing. "But he came near getting
drowned in the canal."

They drove on by the road that led past Lycurgus Billet's. The
tumbled-down house looked just as forlorn as ever, its broken windows
stuffed with old hats and gunny-sacks and the like, its broken steps a
menace to the limbs of those who went in and out.

Mrs. Lycurgus was picking up chips around the chopping-block and was not
averse to stopping for a chat. "No, Lycurgus ain't here," she drawled.
"He's gone huntin'. This yere's the first day the law's off'n deer an'
Lycurgus 'lows ter git his share of deer-meat. He knows where there's a
lick," and she chuckled in anticipation of a full larder.

"Sue? Naw, she ain't here nuther. Mrs. Buckham--her that's the
invalid--has sorter took a fancy ter Sue. She's been a-stoppin' there at
that Strawberry Farm, right smart now.

"You goin' there? Then you'll likely see her. She likes it right well;
but she's a wild young 'un. I dunno's she'll stand it for long."

"Don't you miss her?" asked Agnes, as Neale prepared to drive on.

"Miss Sue? My soul!" ejaculated Mrs. Billet, showing a ragged row of
teeth in a broad smile. "Dunno how I _could_ miss one young 'un! There's
a-plenty others."

At the Buckham farm little Sue Billet was much in evidence. She was
tagging right after the old farmer all the time, and it was plain whose
companionship it was that made the half-wild child contented away from
home.

The farmer was hearty in his greeting, and he insisted that the visitors
go right in "to see marm."

"Wipe yer feet on the door-mat," advised the old man. "Me and Sue
haster, or else Posy'll put us out. I never did see a gal with sech a
mania for cleanin' floors as that Posy gal."

The invalid in her bower of bright-colored wools welcomed Agnes warmly.
"Here's my pretty one! I declare you are a cure for sore eyes," she
cried. "And how are the s