ed him fiercely. "Go along, go
along!" she cried. "Go right along, Jerome Edwards! I tell you
something dreadful has happened to father. Mother says so. Go right
along!"

Jerome pulled himself away from her nervous clutch, and collected
himself for flight. "He was goin' to carry that wood to Doctor
Prescott's," said he, reflectively. "Ain't any sense goin' to the
ten-acre lot till I see if he's been there."

"It's on the way," cried Elmira, frantically. "Hurry up! Oh, do hurry
up, Jerome! Poor father! Mother says he's--fell--down--" Elmira
crooked her little arm around her face and broke into a long wail as
she started down the hill. "Poor--father--oh--oh--poor--father!"
floated back like a wake of pitiful sound.

Chapter II

Jerome started, and once started he raced. Long-legged,
light-flanked, long-winded, and underfed, he had the adaptability for
speed of a little race-horse. Jerome Edwards was quite a famous boy
in the village for his prowess in running. No other boy could equal
him. Marvellous stories were told about it. "Jerome Edwards, he can
run half a mile in five minutes any day, yes he can, sir," the
village boys bragged if perchance a cousin from another town came
a-visiting and endeavored to extol himself and his comrades beyond
theirs. In some curious fashion Jerome, after he had out-speeded all
the other boys, furnished them with his own victories for a boast.
They seemed, in exulting over the glory of this boy of their village,
to forget that the glory came only through their defeat. It was
national pride on a very small and childish scale.

Jerome, swift little runner that he was, ran that day as he had never
run before. The boys whom he met stood aside hastily, gaped down the
road behind him to see another runner laboring far in the rear, and
then, when none appeared, gaped after his flying heels.

"Wonder what he's a-runnin' that way fur?" said one boy.

"Ain't nobody a-tryin' to ketch up with him, fur's I can see," said
another.

"Mebbe his mother's took worse, an' he's a-runnin' fur the doctor,"
said a third, who was Henry Judd, a distant cousin of Jerome's.

The boys stood staring even when Jerome was quite out of sight.
Jerome had about three-quarters of a mile to run to Doctor Prescott's
house. He was almost there when he caught sight of a team coming.
"There's father, now," he thought, and stood still, breathing hard.
Although Jerome's scanty food made him a swift runner, i