unt Kate would be scared every hour he is
away from home, he is so reckless."

She was very proud herself of Rafe and wrote Bess a lot about him. Slow
Tom did not figure much in Nan Sherwood's letters, or in her thoughts,
about this time. Thoughts and letters were filled with handsome Rafe.

It was while the Blackton drive was near Pine Camp that Nan became
personally acquainted with old Toby Vanderwiller. It was after dinner
that day that she met Margaret and Bob Llewellen and the three went down
to the river bank, below the bridge, to watch the last of the Blackton
drive.

The chuck-boat had pushed off into the rough current and was bobbing
about in the wake of the logs; but all the men had not departed.

"That's old Toby," said Bob, a black-haired boy, full of mischief. "He
don't see us. Le's creep up and scare him."

"No," said Nan, decidedly; "don't you dare!"

"Aw, shucks! Girls ain't no fun," the boy growled. "Mag's bad enough,
but you air wuss'n she, Nan Sherwood. What's old Toby to you? He's allus
as cross as two sticks, anyway."

"We won't make him any crosser," said Nan, laughing. "What's the good?"

Nan saw that the old man had his coat off, and had slipped down the
right sleeve of his woolen shirt to bare his shoulder and upper right
arm. He was clumsily trying to bandage the arm.

"He's got hurt," Nan cried to Margaret. "I wonder how?"

"Dunno," returned the smaller girl, carelessly. Although she was
not mischievous like her brother, Margaret seldom showed traits of
tenderness or affection. Nan was in some doubt as to whether the strange
girl liked her. Margaret often patted Nan's cheeks and admired her
smooth skin; but she never expressed any real affection. She was
positively the oddest little piece of humanity Nan had ever met.

Once Nan asked her if she had a doll. "Doll?" snarled Margaret with
surprising energy. "A'nt Matildy give me one once't an' I throwed it as
far as I could inter the river, so I did! Nasty thing! Its face was all
painted and rough."

Nan could only gasp. Drown a doll-baby! Big girl as she considered
herself, she had a very tender spot in her heart for doll-babies.

Margaret Llewellen only liked people with fair faces and smooth
complexions; she could not possibly be interested in old Toby
Vanderwiller, who seemed always to need a shave, and whose face, like
that of Margaret's grandfather, was "wizzled."

Nan ran down to him and asked: "Can't I help you, Mr. Vander