wo and, whimpering, fell to
rearranging his crumpled raiment--fell to dabbling at a bruised and
swollen nose. When he found that there was blood upon his handkerchief
he howled again, but the rest of the children waited, appalled, for
Steve's answer.

Had the boy burst into bitter expletive at that instant Caleb would not
have been so surprised as he was at Steve's reception of his question.
The latter looked up, just pushed his long hair back from his forehead
with one quick hand; and then smiled, very, very slowly.

"Nuthin'--nuthin' much," he qualified the statement. "Only we was
goin' to play King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table! He
wanted to be her knight"--an uncomplimentary thumb indicated the
Honorable Archie--"and--and so did I." This time his eyes went to
Barbara, who was listening, her teeth sunk in her lip. "He wanted to
be her knight--an'--an' he ain't got no call to be, because in case of
trouble, or anything, he couldn't purtect her! He couldn't fight good
enough to take good keer o' her, because I kin fight better. I--I just
licked him to prove it!"

And there the matter-of-fact explanation halted.

Caleb never knew just what he had meant to do when he first dragged the
boy away from his shrieking rival. But while he stood there, looking
down into that glowing face, he realized that he had walked into a
situation bigger than any with which he was prepared to cope. Already
it had become veritable comedy to the broadly grinning Allison--but it
seemed symbolic to Caleb. He sensed how close it lay to tragedy
itself; he found himself arguing kindly, in place of the rebuke which
he had thought to deliver.

"But in the days when knighthood was in flower, Steve," he explained
ponderously, "the--the fair ladies always chose their own knights,
didn't they?"

But the question had an entirely unexpected effect upon the boy. For,
instead of wiping the smile from the small and wistfully earnest face,
it only softened it. Shyly Steve fell to kicking the turf with the toe
of his new boot; then his head came up and, flaming red, he squared his
shoulders and faced Barbara full. The move was unmistakable--he was
just waiting for her to name him the knight of her choice. And,
instead, the little girl, her eyes twin shafts of searing scorn, curled
her lips at him and fairly spat out the words in her shaking rage.

"You--you--_my_ knight?" she half whispered, "_You_!" And she turned
her back