beard swept his breast while his head was entirely
bald. He wore a long blue smock, carried an ox-goad in one hand and a
canvas bag in the other. He looked as kind as he was homely and
Dorothy answered quickly:

"I'm lost, I guess. Or forgotten, and that's just as bad! I--I--"

"Lost? Right here in this town? Well, that couldn't hardly be. Though
I own it's a biggish place. But if you be, I'll see to it that you get
found again, immediate. First start--who be ye?"

"I'm Dorothy Calvert, from Baltimore. I came to the Oak Knowe School
for Girls. Somebody was to meet me. Nobody has and--and--I don't know
what to do."

John Gilpin whistled and exclaimed:

"No! Never! I saw at a glance you was no Cannuck! The little maids
we raise in our Province have redder cheeks 'an yours. An' we don't
let 'em go traversin' round the universe without their mothers or
leastways nurses to look after 'em. But bless my soul, you've fell
into safe hands. I know old Oak Knowe well. No better school in the
whole Empire nor that. Moresomever, there's been some miscarry betwixt
your folks and the Lady Principal or she'd never let you come to this
pass. But my road lies same as yours. I'll just step-an'-fetch my oxen
and head 'em straight for home. We'll get to the School in next to no
time. Leastways, betwixt now and bedding-bell--they ring it about
half-past nine."

"Is it so far? Why, it must be hours till then!"

At the cheerful sound of this old teamster's voice Dorothy forgot her
fear. She didn't stop to reflect that she should have waited quietly
in the station till somebody called for her, nor that she might have
telephoned to her teachers to announce her arrival. All she realized
was that here was a friend in need and that he was a quaintly
interesting person.

"'Tis a matter of some miles, lassie, and my old oxen are no electric
tram. Slow and sure's their motto and what's an hour, more or less, in
a little girl's lifetime? You got a box?"

Dorothy glanced at the rug and magazine, tightly strapped together,
and at the handbag she had set down upon the platform and replied:

"No, Mr.--I don't know your name yet--I haven't now. I had one, but I
ate the lunch out of it and tossed it from the car window."

The old man stared as if she had spoken nonsense, but informed her:

"Gilpin's my name. John Gilpin; but my dame says I'm no descendant of
him that took that famous ride as is in the story books. I'm too slow,
Dame says. But