old me what your name is yet?"

She rose upon her knees in the bed and leaned over toward him. "My
really name is Lotchen."

"Lotchen what?"

"That's all--just Lotchen."

"Where's your mother, Lotchen?"

"I don't know; do you?"

"There's something queer about this business," said Billy to himself.
"And if that Wrangler man don't make it plain he'll find hisself in
trouble. What is your father's name, Lotchen?" he inquired aloud.

"Who's that?"

"Your father. Haven't you a father?"

"I don't know. The black man says he can turn me into a toothpick if he
wants to."

Billy doubled up his fist and looked at it grimly.

"Well, he won't want to," he said. "Don't you be afraid. I'll take care
of you."

"Oh, will you?"

"For a little while, anyhow."

"How long?"

"Well, till you get your breakfast."

"Where's he gone?"

"Who?"

"The black man."

"He's upstairs in his room. You can go to him after breakfast."

"I don't want to go. I'm afraid of his knife. I sit and hold on my big
toe all day. Have you got a knife, too?" She looked at him with an
expression he could not understand. Perhaps her natural trust in mankind
had been somewhat shaken.

"My knife wont hurt you," he said. Lotchen crawled to the edge of the
bed, leaned over and put her two hands on his, and said, "Then let's you
and me run away from the black man."

Billy looked much amused. "No," he replied, "we won't do that, Lotchen;
but I shouldn't wonder if he was to run away from us. Don't your uncle
love you?"

"He loves his nose better," she replied.

"His which?"

"His nose. He's all the time rubbing it up and down."

"But don't he love you, too?"

"No."

"What makes you think that?"

"'Cause I'm afraid of him."

"When did you see him first, Lotchen?"

"Oh, ever so long. He's had me, you know."

"Yes, I know that. What's he been doing with you?"

The expression on her face was so blank that Billy saw, whatever Mr.
Wrangler might intend, she knew nothing more than that she was being
"had" under circumstances that caused her constant fright. He did not
question her further, but went into the kitchen where his mother was
getting the griddle hot for the buckwheat cakes and the spider hot for
the sausages, and he told her of Wrangler and the child. She went in to
see Lotchen, and snuggled the little one up to her close and tight, and
told her she should have a merry Christmas and she mustn't be afraid of
anybody, for her