u. Come away, now,"
he added, for a crowd was gathering.

"Do wait a minute, Pop," said Junior. The lame boy evidently was used to
being indulged, and he saw no reason for leaving Nan abruptly. "See the
dog. See Buster, will you? Why, he's just in love with this girl."

"I tell you to come on!" complained Mr. Bulson, Senior. He was really a
slave to the crippled boy's whims; but he disliked being near Nan
Sherwood, or seeing Junior so friendly with her. "You can't know that
girl, if the dog does," he snarled.

"Why, yes I can, Pop," said the lame boy, with cheerful insistence. "And
I want to hear about her being snowed up in a train with Buster."

"Your father can tell you all about it," Nan said, kindly, not wishing to
make Mr. Bulson any angrier. "He was there in the snowed-up train, too.
That's how I came to be acquainted with your little dog. He was with your
father on the train."

"Why, Pop!" cried the eager boy. "You never told me a word about it. And
you must know this girl."

Mr. Ravell Bulson only grunted and scowled.

"What's your name, girl?" cried the boy, curiously.

"I am Nan Sherwood," the girl said, kissing him and then giving him a
gentle push toward his father's outstretched and impatient hand. "If I
don't see you again I shall often think of you. Be good to Buster."

"You must tell me about being snowed up, Pop," urged little Junior, as
Nan turned away. "And I like that girl."

"That isn't much to tell--and _I_ don't like her--nor any of her name,"
snapped Mr. Bulson.

"But you'll tell me about the snowed-up train?"

"Yes, yes!" cried his father, impatiently, anxious to get his lame son
away from Nan's vicinity. "I'll tell you all about it."

Nan was quite sure that the fat man would be ashamed to give his little
son the full particulars of his own experience on the stalled train. The
little chap, despite his affliction, was an attractive child and seemed
to have inherited none of his father's unhappy disposition.

"Good bye, Nan Sherwood!" he cried after the girl. "Come, Buster! Come,
Buster! My, Pop! Buster likes that girl!"

"Well, I don't," declared the fat man, still scowling at Nan.

"Don't you?" cried Junior. "That's funny. I like her, and Buster likes
her, and you don't, Pop. I hope I'll see you again, Nan Sherwood."

His father almost dragged him away, the spaniel, on a leash, cavorting
about the lame boy. Nan was amazed by the difference in the behavior of
Mr. Bulson and