He
watched her tenderly, with frequent glances up and down the road.
Presently an irregular beat of hoofs sounded around a bend, and a
clattering wagon drew steadily nearer.
The egg-and-chicken man jumped out and strode angrily toward the
little group.
"I've caught you, have I, you young----"
"'Sh!"
The boy put up a warning hand.
"She's fast asleep," he whispered. "Are you goin' to take her home?"
The man stared.
"Oh, I'm no child-stealer," said the boy lightly. "Here, just lift
her soft with me, and I'll bet we can put her in without waking her
up at all."
Without a word, the man slipped his hands under Caroline's
shoulders, the boy lifted her dusty boots, and gently unloosing her
arm from the dog, they carried her lax little body carefully to the
wagon and laid her on the clean straw in the bottom, her head on a
folded coat. She stirred and half opened her eyes, murmured broken
words, and sank yet deeper into her dream.
The man pointed to a book on the seat.
"That's her lesson-book," he whispered hoarsely. It was the despised
geography.
"Her folks think a heap of her, I tell you," he added, still eying
the boy uncertainly. "She's about as bright as they make 'em, I
guess."
"I guess she is," said the lad simply.
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