attire; which
consisted of a white oilskin blouse, gayly bordered with the national
colors, trousers of the most aggressive blue, and a helmet-shaped hat,
adorned by a miniature battle-axe, while a tiny broom was strapped upon
his shoulders.

"Huh! pretty, ain't I? The boys gave 'em to me."

"Did--they?"

"Yes. You needn't be scared. I shan't hurt you. I'm a Rep-Dem-Prob."

"Ah, indeed?"

"Yes. I march with the whole kerboodle. I tell you, it's fun."

It was "Presidential year," and Amy began to understand, not only that
the lad before her was a "natural," but, presumably, that he had been
made the victim of village wit. She had heard of the "marching bands,"
and inferred that the strange dress of her rescuer was made up by
fragments from rival political uniforms.

"Yes. I'm out every night. Hurrah for Clevey-Harris!"

"You must get very tired."

"No. It's fun. I drag the gun carriage. That's on account o' my
strength. Look a' there for an arm!" And he thrust out his illy
proportioned limb with a pitiable pride.

"I see. But now that you've helped me down the bank, will you as kindly
show me the way home?"

"Never slid that way before, did you? Only thing, though. I'll show you
all right if you'll let me ride your donkey. Funny, ain't she? Make her
talk."

"I think she's very pretty; and you may ride her, certainly, if she will
let you."

A puzzled and angry expression came over the youth's face as he looked
toward the burro, who had already begun to make hay for herself out of
the lush grasses bordering the Ardsley.

"Make her talk, I say."

"She'll do that only to please herself. She's rather self-willed, and
besides--"

"Who do _you_ march with?"

"March? _March!_ I?"

"Yes."

"Why, nobody. Of course not. Why should you think it?"

The lad scrutinized her dress and gazed abstractedly upon the white
"Californian." Just then, a "parade" was the dominant idea in the poor
fellow's limited intelligence. Amy's simple white flannel frock, with
its scarlet sash, and the scarlet cap upon her dark curls, suggested
only another "uniform." The girls with whose appearance he was familiar
were not so attired.

Neither did they ride upon white donkeys. Yet a donkey of venerable and
unhappy appearance did nightly help to swell the ranks of the country's
patriots, and the beast which he knew enjoyed a sort of honor: it drew
an illuminated "float" wherein rode a greatly envied fifer.

"What makes you as