better git a-goin'."

"Stay right clost an' don't go gittin' lost," admonished Ma watts, as
she stood in the doorway and surveyed her daughter with approval born
of motherly pride. The pink gingham sunbonnet that matched the tight
little dress had required only a slight "letting out" to make it "do,"
and taken in conjunction with the flaming red dress, made a study in
color that would have delighted the heart of a Gros Ventre squaw.
Thick, home-knit stockings, and a pair of stiff cow-hide shoes
completed the costume, and made Microby Dandeline the center of an
admiring semi-circle of Wattses.

"Yo' shore look right pert an' briggity, darter," admitted Watts.
"Don't yo' give the lady no trouble, keep offen the railroad car
tracks, an' don't go talkin' to strangers yo' don't know, an' ef yo'
see preacher Christie tell him howdy, an' how's he gittin' 'long, an'
we're doin' the same, an' stop in nex' time he's out in the hills." He
handed Patty the reins. "An' mom, yo' won't fergit them steeples, an'
a ax, an' a spade?"

"I won't forget," Patty assured him, and as Microby Dandeline was
saying good-by to the small brothers and sisters, the man leaned
closer. "Ef they's any change left over I wisht yo'd give her about
ten cents to spend jest as she pleases."

The girl nodded, and as Microby Dandeline scrambled up over the wheel
and settled herself beside her upon the board that served as a seat,
she called a cheery good-by, and clucked to the horses.

The trail down Monte's Creek was a fearsome road that sidled
dangerously along narrow rock ledges, and plunged by steep pitches
into the creek bed and out again. Partly by sheer luck, partly by
bits of really skillful driving, but mostly because the horses,
themselves knew every foot of the tortuous trail, the descent of the
creek was made without serious mishap. It was with a sigh of relief
that Patty turned into the smoother trail that lead down through the
canyon toward town. In comparison with the bumping and jolting of the
springless lumber wagon, she realized that the saddle that had racked
and tortured her upon her outward trip had been a thing of ease and
comfort. Released from her post at the brake-rope, Microby Dandeline
immediately proceeded to remove her shoes and stockings. Patty
ventured remonstrance.

"Hit's hot an' them stockin's scratches. 'Tain't no good to wear 'em
in the summer, nohow, 'cept in town, an' I kin put 'em on when we git
there. Why does f