ster, and knew more than all of
us put together. He was kind-a slow in his speech, and a good deal bald;
his hair never came in right well after he had the typhus fever; but
John Morgan was a real good fellow for all that, and I was a little fool
not to know it.

Well, I stooped over the flower beds till I was tired and 'most melted,
and I was just thinking of giving up, when Calanthy called to me from
the kitchen door, 'Don't stay out in the sun any longer, Dimpey; you'll
have time to cool before dinner, for father hasn't come in yet.'
Calanthy always petted me considerable, for I was only a year old when
mother was taken away, and Calanthy had to bring me up, and teach me
everything about the house.

So I went through the garden out into the orchard, and sat down under
the big Baldwin apple tree, to rest; it was a nice, shady spot, and
there came up a breeze off the river t'other side the meadow, where
father and the boys were mowing. The air smelt as sweet as could be of
the new hay, and I took off my bonnet and sat down on the grass, and
leaned my head against the tree; the bees were humming in the clover,
and the sound made me sleepy, and I believe I must have dozed while I
was sitting there. I don't know how it was, but all at once I saw a
picture in my mind: I couldn't get rid of it, try my best. It happened
long ago, when I was a little bit of a thing, but it all came back to me
under that apple tree. It was when our old mare Peggy took fright at a
tin peddler's wagon just as she was crossing the bridge at the foot of
Smith's hill; what ailed the creature I can't tell, for she's as steady
as clockwork generally. Dear me! I've ridden her ever since I was _so_
high! But perhaps it was the sun shining on one of the tins hanging
outside the wagon, that reflected into her eyes and scared her out of
her wits; at any rate, she gave a sudden spring, and pitched father
right over her head; then she ran home as fast as she could go, and
jumped over the fence into the dooryard. Calanthy wasn't well, and when
she saw old Peggy come tearing along the road without father, she
fainted away, and Polly Jane caught her as she was falling, and helped
her on the bed in the spare room. I was sitting on a little chair in the
hall, stringing beads; I thought Calanthy was dead, and commenced
screaming like a catbird; and poor Polly Jane was almost distracted, and
didn't know which way to turn. Race Miller was a boy about fourteen at