ll girl with flaxen
hair--Bettina Hansen and her small brother Hans, who refused to answer to
any name other than Hans Nilsen. His father's name was Nils Hansen, and
Hans, a born conservative, being the son of Nils, regarded himself as
rightfully a Nilsen, and disliked the "Hans Hansen" on the school
register. Thus do European customs sometimes survive among us.

Hans strode through the pool of water which the shower had spread
completely over the low turnpike a few rods from the pole on which the
trouble shooter was at work, and the electrician ceased his labors and
rested himself on a cross-arm while he waited to see what the
flaxen-haired girl would do when she came to it.

Jim and Bettina stopped at the water's edge. "Oh!" cried she, "I can't get
through!" The trouble shooter felt the impulse to offer his aid, but
thought it best on the whole, to leave the matter in the hands of the lank
schoolmaster.

"I'll carry you across," said Jim.

"I'm too heavy," answered Bettina.

"Nonsense!" said Jim.

"She's awful heavy," piped Hans. "Better take off your shoes, anyhow!"

Jim thought of the welfare of his only good trousers, and saw that Hans'
suggestion was good; but a mental picture of himself with shoes in hand
and bare legs restrained him. He took Bettina in his arms and went slowly
across, walking rather farther with his blushing burden than was strictly
necessary. Bettina was undoubtedly heavy; but she was also wonderfully
pleasant to feel in arms which had never borne such a burden before; and
her arms about his neck as he slopped through the pond were curiously
thrilling. Her cheek brushed his as he set her upon her feet and felt,
rather than thought, that if there had only been a good reason for it,
Bettina would have willingly been carried much farther.

"How strong you are!" she panted. "I'm awful heavy, ain't I?"

"Not very," said Jim, with scholastic accuracy. "You're just right. I--I
mean, you're simply well-nourished and wholesomely plump!"

Bettina blushed still more rosily.

"You've ruined your clothes," said she. "Now you'll have to come home with
me and let me--see who's there!"

Jim looked up at the trouble shooter, and went over to the foot of the
pole. The man walked down, striking his spurs deep into the wood for
safety.

"Hello!" said he. "School out?"

"For the day," said Jim. "Any important work on the telephone line now?"

"Just trouble-shooting," was the answer. "I have to spe