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“You’re the only girl I’m afraid of in that line. Isn’t that so, Pretty?”,

They were a happy lot. Each held some high-sounding position, the name coined in Billy’s busy brain. His box of abused tools came forth; the much mended wheelbarrow, picks, shovels wobbly from use as well as abuse, improvised things that only an imagination as large as Billy’s could have named tools,—something for each one there.,

He felt his mother start. “You’re too young for hard work, Billy; you do enough as it is.”,

“You’re George Rideout Smith’s kid, ain’t you?”

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NEITHER boy nor dog paused till they came to the dusty road. There Bouncer stopped and ran excitedly about the spot where the big man had taken May Nell in his arms; doubled back on his track, stopped again, and looked up at Billy, perplexity written all over his face. Billy encouraged him with word and caress; but he came at last, put his nose against Billy’s knee, and whined apologetically.,

“It’s been the best ever,” Jean said, happily.,

Then one day, after several years, a stranger had come to town with a startling story. He said that he had been a sailor on the “Wanderer,” when she had made her last voyage. The ship had been blown in a gale upon the rocky coast of a small island in the south seas. He with several others of the crew and a few passengers had managed to get to land and had been hospitably treated by the natives. A small trading-vessel which regularly visited the island had taken them off in the course of the next few weeks, but one of their number, a passenger named Snoop, had refused to leave. He had asserted he might as well be there as anywhere else. Later reports brought from the island by the crew of the trading-vessel had been to the effect that Mr. Snoop was leading a tranquil and peaceful existence. He was espoused to several dusky maidens and was so much revered and respected as the only possessor of a white skin on the island, that he was never expected to stir hand or foot in any way suggesting work.,

“O Billy, it hurts the ears of my mind to hear you say those vulgar words.” May Nell, playing “man” for the first time in her life, looked up from the “rod of grade” that she was piling deftly with a broken shingle. The color from sun and exercise added much to her beauty. She was neither blowsy nor smudged like the other children, and her lawn frock was as spotless as in the morning.