mps was led. When the strap
was taken off, he made a dive for Uncle Rufus, but the darky was nimble,
despite his years.

"Yo' butt me, yo' horned scalawag!" gasped the old colored man, when
once safe on the outside of the pen, "an' I won't gib yo' nottin' ter
chew on but an old rubber boot fo' de nex' week--dat's what I'll do."

The old Corner House, as the Stower homestead was known to Milton folk,
stood facing Main Street, its side yard running back a long way on
Willow Street. It was a huge colonial mansion, with big pillars in
front, and two wings thrown out behind. For years before the Kenway
girls and Aunt Sarah Maltby had come here to live, the premises
outside--if not within--had been sadly neglected.

But energetic Ruth Kenway had insisted upon trimming the lawn and
hedges, planting a garden, repairing the summer-house, and otherwise
making neat the appearance of the dilapidated old place.

On the Main Street side of the estate the property of Mr. Creamer joined
the Corner House yard, but the Creamer property did not extend back as
far as that of the Stower place. In the corner at the rear the tiny yard
of Con Murphy touched the big place. Mr. Murphy was a cobbler, who held
title to a small house and garden on a back street.

This man owned a pig--a very friendly pig. Of that pig, more later!

Perhaps it was the fruit that attracted the pig into the Stower yard.
The Kenway girls had had plenty of cherries, peaches, apples, pears, and
small fruit all through the season. There were still some late peaches
ripening, and when Agnes Kenway happened to open her eyes early, the
very next morning after the goat came to live with them, she saw the
blushing beauty of these peaches through the open window of the ell room
she shared with Ruth.

Never had peaches looked so tempting! The tree was a tall seedling, and
the upper branches hung their burden near the open window.

All the lower limbs had been stripped by Uncle Rufus. But the old man
could not reach these at the top of the tree.

"It will be a mean shame for them to get ripe and fall off," thought
Agnes. "I believe I can reach them."

Up she hopped and slipped into her bathrobe. Just enough cool air
entered the room to urge her to pull on her hose and slip her feet into
slippers.

The window was at the back of the big house, away from the Willow Street
side, and well protected from observation (so Agnes thought) by the
shrubbery.

Below the window w