While Caroline Was Growing | Page 4

squeezed the dog's body and tickled him knowingly; the little fellow
grinned widely and barked. Caroline sighed.
"It must be grand," she said wistfully, "to walk from one town to
another, that way. Where do you sleep?"
"In barns, sometimes, and there's lots of covered wagons all around the
farm-houses, outside the towns, you know. A church shed's as good a
place as any. I don't like the towns as big as this, though; I like the
country this time o' year."
Caroline nodded comprehendingly, breathing deep breaths of the fresh,
earth-scented air.

"I wish there never were any houses in the world--nor any schools,
either!" she cried.
He smiled. "I never was much for schools, myself," he said. "They
don't smell good."
Caroline looked at him solemnly. She felt that the resolution of her life
was taken. In one ecstatic flash she beheld her future.
"I shall never go to school again," she announced. "I shall--" A wave of
joyous possibility broke over her, but modesty tied her tongue.
"Could I--would you--I'm a real good walker!" she burst out, and
blushed furiously. Who was she to associate with a dog like William
Thayer?
The young man looked curiously at her. A kind of anxiety clouded his
frank gray eyes. "Oh, you mustn't talk like that," he urged, laying one
brown hand on her apron. "That wouldn't do for a young lady like you.
I guess you better go to school. Girls, you know!"
He waited a moment, but she scowled silently. He began again:
"I guess it's different with girls, anyway. You see, you have to get your
education. A young lady----"
"I'm not a young lady," snapped Caroline. "I'm only ten 'n' a quarter!"
"Well, anyway, it isn't respectable," he argued hastily. Caroline opened
her eyes wide at him.
"Aren't you respectable?" she demanded, appraising unconsciously his
clothes, which were, if not fine, at least clean and whole, his flannel
shirt finished with a neat blue tie, his shoes no dustier than the country
roads accounted for.
He flushed under his thick freckles, and plucked at the grass nervously.
"N-n--yes, I am!" he shouted defiantly. "I know lots of people don't

think so, but I am! We earn our way, William Thayer an' me, an' we
don't want much. I don't see as we do any harm. It don't take much to
live, anyhow; it's coal-scuttles an' lookin'-glasses an'--an' carpets that
cost money. And if you don't want them--oh, what's the use talking? I
never could live all tied up."
"Caroline! Caroline!" A loud voice cut across her meditative silence.
She shrugged her shoulders stubbornly and put her finger on her lip.
The boy shook his head.
"You better go," he said soothingly. "You'll have to sometime, you
know. Here, take these," as she jumped up, forgetting the fork and the
salt-shaker. "Be sure to put 'em back where you got 'em, won't you?"
"Oh, leave 'em here. I'll come back," she said carelessly, but the boy
insisted.
"No, you take 'em right now," he commanded. "I wouldn't want any
mistake made."
"Just wait a minute--I'll come back," she repeated, as the call sounded
again.
"Caroline! where are you?"
The boy stood up, holding out the silver. "You--you don't want 'em to
say I--I took 'em?" he blurted out.
Her eyes opened wide; she looked all the incredulous horror she felt.
"Steal?" she cried, "with a dog like that?"
He nodded. "That's the way I look at it, but some don't," he said shortly.
"You better go now. Much obliged for the breakfast. If I come back this
way, maybe I'll stop in again, if you'd like to see William Thayer."
"I think she went across behind the stable, Miss Carrie," Katy called
helpfully.

Caroline thrust the silver into her pocket and turned to go.
"I'm coming!" she cried desperately, and, patting William Thayer, she
took a few backward steps.
"There's a nice brook in those woods," she observed irrelevantly, "if
you should want to take another nap," and, turning her back resolutely,
she rounded the barn and disappeared.
The boy picked up the empty plate and slipped it into a door at the back
of the stable. Then, lifting the dog over the nearest fence, he climbed it
and stepped through the next yard into the street.
"That was a mighty nice little girl, William Thayer," he said
thoughtfully. "She seemed to understand a lot, for such a little one."
Caroline stalked aggressively into the dining-room, and finding it for
the moment empty, hastily replaced the salt-shaker. The fork she laid in
the pantry. Hardly was her pocket clear of the telltale stuff when her
aunt appeared before her.
"I suppose you know you're late for school, Caroline," she began, with
evident self-control. "If you think I am going to