up and wants his own way--the Judge won't
like it. The Judge has always ruled at Huntersfield."

"Well, he supports Truxton; why shouldn't he?"

A bright flush stained Mary's skin. "Truxton has his officer's pay
now."

"He won't have it when he gets out of the Army."

Mary rose and went to the stove. She came back with a kettle and
poured boiling water over a dish of almonds to blanch them.

"We ought to have made this fruit cake a week ago to have it really
good," she said, and shelved the subject of Truxton Beaufort.

"It will be good enough as it is," said Mrs. Flippin; "there isn't
anybody in the county that can beat me when it comes to baking cakes."

"Where's Fiddle," Mary said, suddenly; "can you see her from the
window, Mother?"

Mrs. Flippin could not.

"Well, she's probably sailing her celluloid fish in the chickens' water
pan," said Mary; "I'll go out and look her up in a minute."

But Fiddle was not sailing celluloid fish. Columbus-like she had
decided that there were wider seas than the water pan. Once upon a
time her grandmother had taken her to the bottom of the hill, and at
the bottom of the hill there had been a lot of water, and Fiddle had
walked in it with her bare feet, and had splashed. She had liked it
much better than the chickens' pan.

So she had picked up her three celluloid fish and had trotted down the
path. She wore her pink rompers, and as she bobbed along she was like
a mammoth rose-petal blown by the wind.

At the foot of the hill she came upon a little brown stream. It was
just a thread of a stream, very shallow with a lot of big flat stones.
Fiddle walked straight into it, and the clear water swept over her
toes. She put in her little fish, and quite unexpectedly, they swam
away. She followed and came to where the stream was spanned by a
rail-fence which separated the Flippin farm from the road. The lowest
rail was about as high above the stream as her own fast-beating heart.
She ducked under it and discovered one of her fish whirling in a small
eddy. It was a red fish and she was very fond of it. She made a
sudden grab, caught it, lost her balance and sat down in the water.
After the first shock, she found that she liked it. The other fish had
continued on their journey towards the river. Perhaps some day they
would come to the sea. Fiddle forgot them. She held the little red
fish fast and splashed the water with her heels.

Now on each side of the wat