ly leave the kitchen, the ground was prepared
in a proper manner by the time dinner had been made ready.

CHAPTER IX.

A FUGITIVE.

Plums enjoyed his dinner quite as much as if he had performed his full
share of the gardening, and, when the meal was concluded, there came
into his mind the thought that aunt Dorcas Milford's home was a most
pleasant abiding-place.

Even though he was, so to speak, in temporary exile, he was exceedingly
well content, save for the disagreeable fact that Joe had stated
positively he should go back to Weehawken on the following day.

It seemed as if the thoughts of both the guests were running in the same
channel, for Joe, after gazing a moment at aunt Dorcas's placid face,
gave vent to a sigh of regret, and then looked out of the window,
abstractedly.

"I s'pose we'd better get that garden planted this afternoon, if you've
got the seeds, aunt Dorcas, an' even then we sha'n't be payin' for what
we've had," Joe said, after a long pause, while the three yet remained
at the table.

"Perhaps it will be as well to wait until to-morrow, and give the newly
turned earth a chance to get warm," the little woman said.

"It seems as though we ought to do it to-day, if it would be jest as
well for the garden, 'cause we don't count on your keepin' us for ever;
an' after we leave here to-morrow it wouldn't be right to come back."

"I did think boys would be a dreadful nuisance around the house," aunt
Dorcas began, as if speaking to herself, "but somehow I've felt real
contented-like while you've been here, and it's a deal more cheerful
with three at the table than to sit down alone."

"It's the first time I was ever in a house like this," Joe added, in a
low tone. "It's awful nice, an' fellers what have a reg'lar home must be
mighty happy."

"Where did you live in the city?" aunt Dorcas asked, after a pause.

"I knocked 'round, mostly. Twice I've bunked with some other feller in a
room what we hired,--of course it wasn't anything like the one
up-stairs, but payin' so high for a bed was a little too rich for my
blood."

"But you had to sleep somewhere," aunt Dorcas suggested, her eyes
opening wider, as she gained an insight into a phase of life which was
novel to her.

The interest she displayed invited Joe's confidence, and he told her of
the life led by himself and his particular friends in a manner which
interested the little woman deeply.

It was not a story related for the pu