ibbons, always _fresh_ red ribbons. Everything about her
was always fresh and clean. She had the most serious blue eyes, which at
times would grow intent on what a tall chap of twelve like myself
condescended to tell her, and at other times wondrously confiding.

Eleanore first attracted me by making me a hero. It was a warm May
afternoon and she was sitting on the grass with her doll and her two
companions. Sue had stolen some matches and was using them as
Jackstraws. Suddenly I heard a scream, then I saw Sue racing like mad
toward the garden hose, and I saw that the white skirt of Eleanore's
dress had caught fire. As yet there was only a little flame. She was
sitting still motionless on the grass, hugging her doll, with scared
round eyes. I got to her first and with my cap I beat out the flame. I
was suddenly panting, my hands were cold. But a few moments later, when
Sue and two of the boys came tugging the hose, it as suddenly flashed
upon me that I had done a heroic thing.

"Get out!" I shouted scornfully, as they started to play the hose on
her. "Can't you see the whole fire is out?"

And then while the plump freckled girl came screeching out of the
kitchen with half the servants behind her, and presently these servants
all called me "a little heero"--the one whom I had rescued looked up at
me very gratefully and said,

"Thank you, Boy, for not letting them squirt water on my dolly's clean
dress."

"Aw, what do I care for a doll?" I retorted ungraciously.

But I liked her from that day. She was not at all like Sue. She was
quiet and knew her place. She knew that she was only a girl, how
thoroughly well she knew it. And yet, although so feminine, so
deliberate and sedate, she had "a pile of ginger" deep down inside of
her. In our games, whenever allowed to play, with a dogged resolution
she would come pegging along in the rear, she was a sticker, she never
gave up. In winter when they flooded the yard she was the poorest skater
of all, but patiently plodding along on the ice, each time she fell down
she would pick herself up with such determination that at last with a
jerk at her arm I said,

"Here, Chip, come on and I'll teach you."

She came on. I can still feel her soft determined clutch on my elbow.
When I said, "That's enough," she said, "Thank you, Boy," and went
quietly on alone.

After that I taught her many times. One afternoon when there was a thaw,
I said,

"Gee, but this ice is rotten." And