walked over to the old colored woman's side.

"How come you try to do it that way, Russ Bunker?" asked Mammy June as
Russ approached the phaeton. "I ain't never seen you do that before. Who
showed you?"

"Sam. The boy in Boston. He said he was called after his Uncle Sam. He
came from down South here, you know, Mammy."

"Was he a cullud boy?" demanded the old woman earnestly.

"Of course he was. Or he couldn't dance this way," and Russ tried to cut
the pigeon wing again.

"Wait! Wait!" gasped the old woman. "Tell me mo' about that boy who
showed you. You ain't got it right. But dat's the way my Sneezer done
it. Only he knows just how."

"Why, Mammy June!" cried Rose, "you don't suppose that Sam can dance
just like your Sneezer?"

The old nurse was wiping the tears from her cheeks. Her voice was much
choked with emotion as well. Mrs. Bunker came over to see what the
matter was.

"Yo' please tell me, Ma'am, all about dat boy dese children say was in
Boston? Please, Ma'am! Ain't nobody know how to dance dat way but
Sneezer. And he didn't like his name, Ebenezer Caliper Spotiswood
Meiggs. No'm, he didn't like it at all, 'cause we-all shortened it to
Sneezer.

"He had an Uncle Sam, too. My brudder. Lives in Birmingham. Sneezer
always said he wisht he'd been born wid a name like Uncle Sam."

"Perhaps it is the same boy," Mother Bunker said kindly. "Tell me just
how Ebenezer looks, Mammy June. Then I can be sure."

From the way Mammy described her youngest son, even the children
recognized him as Sam the chore boy at Aunt Jo's in Boston. Mun Bun and
Margy, when the matter was quite settled that Sam was Sneezer, began to
take great pride in the fact that it was their bright eyes that had
first spied the colored boy walking in the snow and had been the first
to invite him into Aunt Jo's house.

"He will be there when we go to Boston again, Mammy June," Rose said,
warmly. "And Daddy and Mother will send him home to you. I guess he'll
be glad to come. Only, maybe you'd better stop calling him Sneezer. He
likes Sam best."

"Sure enough, honey," cried Mammy June, "I'll call him anything he likes
'long as he comes home and stays home with me. Yes, indeedy! I'd call
him Julius Caesar Mark Antony Meiggs, if he wants I should."

"But maybe," said Russ thoughtfully, "he wouldn't like that name any
better than the other. I know I shouldn't."

In a short time it was a settled matter that Mammy June's lost boy would
retur