ight trace them and appear on the scene.

Several days more passed; and then the old Squire, having business at
Portland, decided to take them with him. He intended to find this
Neapolitan _padrone_ and try to secure better treatment for the boys in
the future.

Addison drove them to the railway station, where the old Squire checked
their empty image "rafts" in the baggage car. Before they left the old
farm, first Emilio and then Tomaso took grandmother Ruth's hand very
prettily and said, with deep feeling, "_Vi ringrazio_," several times,
and managed to add "Tank you."

After his return from Portland the old Squire told us that he had gone
with the lads to the place where they lodged and had taken an officer
with him. They found the _padrone_ in a basement, engaged in casting
more images. At first the Italian was very angry; but partly by
persuasion, partly by putting the fear of the law into his heart, they
made him promise not to send his boys out again until May.

The old Squire also enlisted the sympathies of two women in Portland,
who undertook to see that the boys were better housed and cared for in
the future. And there for the time being the episode of the little image
venders ended.

Twelve, perhaps it was thirteen, years passed. Addison, Halstead,
Theodora and Ellen went their various ways in life, and of the group of
young folks at the old farm I alone was left there. The old Squire was
not able now to do more than oversee the work and to give me advice from
his large experience of the past.

One day, late in October, we were in the apple house getting the crop of
winter apples ready for market--Baldwins, Greenings, Blue Pearmains,
Russets, Orange Apples, Arctic Reds--about four hundred barrels of them.
We were sorting the apples carefully and putting the "number ones" in
fresh, new barrels.

It was near noon, and grandmother Ruth had come out to say that our
midday meal would soon be ready. She remained for a few moments and was
counting the barrels we had put up that forenoon, when the doorway
darkened behind her, and, looking up, we saw a stranger standing
there--a well-dressed, rather handsome young man with dark hair and dark
moustache. He was looking at us inquiringly, smilingly, almost timidly,
I thought.

"How do you do?" I said. "You wanted to see some one here?"

He came a step nearer and said, with a foreign accent, "I ver glad see
you again."

Seeing our puzzled looks, he went on: "I