le stopped coming
she had over one hundred dollars in Bessie's hands, all made by
herself, all made by being up early and attending to her household
duties and working hard so as to have her bunches ready by the time
that visitors were returning to the train.

She was brave, and true, and unselfish, and her reward was great.

It was one chill November evening, toward Thanksgiving day, that she
and Robbie had wandered out among the mountain paths; the little
fellow was wild as a colt and ran here and there until it was all
Katie could do to keep track of him. Finally she caught him; both were
tired out, and when she looked around, to her great terror, she could
not make out just where they were. They wandered along and at last
came to a road, but she did not know which way to go. Robbie was cross
and sleepy; she could not carry the heavy boy, and he _would_ lay
down; at last she let him rest. He dropped by a fallen log and in a
moment was asleep. She covered him with a little cloth cape she wore,
and sat down beside him; her eyes were heavy, she nodded, and very
soon was as sound as he.

Along the road came a thin, old, but active man; he stepped out firmly
and aided his steps with a stout cane. It was after dusk of the
evening. He spied something in the gloom, on the other side of the
road, something unusual; he crossed over; it was a little girl leaning
against a big, fallen tree and a small boy stretched on the ground
beside it; both were fast asleep. He touched the girl's shoulder; she
sprang up. "Oh!" she gasped, "don't hurt Robbie! We weren't doing any
harm, indeed we weren't."

"What are you doing here any how?" he inquired.

"It was Robbie, no, it was me, he was so sleepy and so was I, and we
were just resting until we could start and try to find home again."

"Um! so you're lost, are you?"

"No, sir, I guess not only--only we don't know the way."

"Well, I should say that's pretty near being lost. Where do you live?
What's your name?"

"We live in the old Mill cottage, and my name's Katie Wilson, and
Robbie's is Robert T. Wilson."

"Um! um! Yes; well, I know where you live; come along, I'll put you
right. Come! wake up here, young man!" and he gently poked Robbie with
his cane. But Robbie was sleepy and cross, and cried and kicked, and
it was all Katie could do to get him on his feet and moving. Then as
they went slowly on, she holding her brother's hand, her own in that
of the stranger, he asked he