and Sam. You
see Joe won't mind staying in the car. Nora says he lives in just a
shack at home, and Sam--I am a little afraid of Sam. We don't know him
very well, you see."

"I see. We are quite safe in your hands, little woman. You can do just
as you and Mrs. Gwynne arrange."

As the father watched the little, trim, sturdy figure stepping down the
street he muttered to himself, "That child grows more like her mother
every day." He heaved a great sigh from the depths of his heart. "Well,
God keep her, wise little woman that she is! I wish I were a wiser man.
I must be firm with her; it would be a shame to spoil her. Yes, I must
be firm." But he shrugged his shoulders and smiled at himself. "The
worst of it is, or the best of it is," he continued, "the little witch
is almost always right, God bless her, just like her mother, just like
her mother." He hastily wiped his eyes, and went off to his office where
Mrs. Dean awaited him and her little girl with the burned hand. And the
mother wondered at the gentleness of him as he dressed the little girl's
wounded hand.

It followed that the scouting party included not only Miss Hazel
Sleighter, but also her big brother Tom, who, being temporarily in the
high school, more perhaps because of his size and the maturity of his
bearing than by virtue of his educational qualifications, was at the
present moment most chiefly concerned in getting into form his baseball
team for the match the following Saturday in which the High School was
to meet All Comers under eighteen. The freight shed being on his way to
the practice ground, Tom deigned to join the party and to take in the
circus car as he passed. The car dwellers were discovered on the open
prairie not far from the freight shed, keeping guard over Rosie, who was
stretching her legs after her railway journey. The boys were tossing a
baseball to each other as Tom pedalled up on his wheel.

"Hello, there, here you are," he shouted to Sam, holding up his hands
for a catch.

The ball came with such impact that Tom was distinctly jarred, and
dropped the ball. With all his force he threw the ball back to Sam,
who caught it with the ease of a professional and returned it with such
vigour that again Tom dropped it.

"Let's have a knock-up," he said, hitting a long fly.

Sam flew after the ball with amazing swiftness, his scarecrow garments
fluttering and flapping in the air, and caught it with an upward leap
that landed him on his