y trough,--not too much, but enough moderately to quench his
thirst;" etc.

Martha beamed through her silver-rimmed spectacles, and hoped she'd
given them enough lunch; while Benny, with his hand resting on the head
of his "ole fat kyat," surveyed them with rather a serious air.

The girls had been troubled about Benny. They did not want to leave the
little fellow, who had announced his firm intention of going with them;
yet it was out of the question to take him. The evening before, however,
Bubble had had a long talk with "ve boy of ve house;" and great was the
relief of the ladies when that youthful potentate announced at breakfast
his determination to stay at home and "take care of ve womenfolks,
'cause Jim-Maria [the name by which he persistently called the
melancholy prophet], he's gettin' old, an' somebody has to see to fings;
and I's ve boy of ve house, so _I_ ought to see to vem."

When the final moment came, however, it seemed very dreadful to see his
own Sing-girl drive away, and Posy, and the other boy too; and Benny's
lip began to quiver, and his eyes to grow large and round, to make room
for the tears. At this very moment, however, Jim-Maria, who had
disappeared after bringing the horse to the door, came round the corner,
bringing the most wonderful hobby-horse that ever was seen. It was
painted bright yellow, for that was the color Jeremiah was painting the
barn. Its eyes were large and black, which gave it a dashing and
spirited appearance; and at sight of it the Boy of the House forgot
everything else in heaven and earth. "Mine horse!" he cried, rushing
upon it with outstretched arms,--"all mine, for to wide on! Jim-Maria,
get out ov ve way! Goo-by, Sing-girl! goo-by, ev'ryboggy! Benny's goin'
to ve Norf Pole!" and he cantered away, triumphant.

Then Hildegarde and Rose, seeing that all was well, made their adieus
with a light heart, and Bubble waved his hat, and Miss Wealthy kissed
her hand, and Martha shook her blue checked apron violently up and down,
and off they went.

* * * * *

The little village of Bixby was in its usual condition of somnolent
cheerfulness, that same afternoon. The mail had come in, being brought
in Abner Colt's green wagon from the railway-station two miles away. The
appearance of the green wagon, with its solitary brown bag, not
generally too well filled, and its bundle of newspapers, was the signal
for all the village-loungers to gather ab