While Caroline Was Growing | Page 5

write you an excuse,
you are very much mistaken."
"All right," Caroline returned laconically. "Is my lunch ready?"
"It was nothing in the world but that dog; I cannot understand the
fascination that tramps and loafers have for you! You never got it from
this family. Why do you like to talk to dirty tramps! Some day a
strange dog will bite you. Then you'll be sorry!"
"He wasn't a bit dirty. If you weren't so afraid of dogs, you'd know
William Thayer wouldn't bite!" she retorted indignantly. "I think I
might have three cookies--those are nasty little thin ones. And you
never put enough butter."
Caroline and her namesake-aunt were as oil and water in their social

intercourse.
"Now, that's another thing. I cannot see where you put all the food you
eat! You get more than the boys, a great deal. And boys are
supposed--not that any one grudges it to you, child, but really----"
"I'm getting later all the time," Caroline remarked impartially. "You
needn't cut the crusts off; I like 'em."
Her aunt sighed, and handed her the lunch-basket; a fringe of
red-and-white napkin dangled invitingly from the corner.
"Now run along; what are you going in there for?"
"My jography."
She stood for a moment looking out at the flagstone where William
Thayer had waltzed so seductively, then strolled slowly out, along the
porch and by the house. The lilies-of-the-valley were white in the
sidebeds; their odor, blown to her on quick puffs of west wind, filled
her with a sort of pleasant sadness, the mingled sorrow and delight of
each new spring. She bent her strong little legs and squatted down
among them, sniffing ecstatically. What was it she was trying to
remember? Had it ever happened? Years ago, when she was very
little----
"Caroline! are you trying purposely to be naughty! It is twenty minutes
past nine!"
She muttered impatiently, stamped her foot deliberately upon the lilies,
and ran out of the yard.
It will never be known what Caroline's definite intentions were on that
morning. It is not improbable that she meant to go to school. She
undoubtedly walked to the building devoted to the instruction of her
generation and began to mount the steps. What power weighted her
lagging feet and finally dragged her to a sitting position on the top step,
she could not have told; but certain it is that for ten minutes she sat

upon the text-book of geography, thoughtfully interposed between her
person and the cold stone, her chin in her hand, her eyes fixed and
vague. Behind her a chorus of voices arose in the melody that
accompanied a peculiarly tedious system of gymnastics; she scowled
unconsciously. Before her, clear to the inward vision, lay a pleasant
little pond, set in a ring of new grass. Clear lay the pebbles and roots at
the bottom; clear was the reflection of the feathering trees about it;
clear shone the eyes of William Thayer as he joyously swam for sticks
across it. Great patches of sun warmed the grass and cheered the hearts
of two happy wanderers, who fortified themselves from a lunch-basket
padded with a red-fringed napkin. Happy yellow dandelions were
spotted about, and the birds chirped unceasingly; the wind puffed the
whole spring into their eager nostrils. Truly a pleasant picture! As in a
dream, Caroline walked softly down the steps and toward the north.
For ten minutes she kept steadily on, looking neither to the right nor to
the left, when the rattle of a particularly noisy wagon attracted her
attention. She caught the eye of the driver; it was the egg-and-chicken
man. He nodded cheerfully.
"Hello, there!" said he.
"Hello!" Caroline returned. "You going home?"
"Sure," said the egg-and-chicken man. "Want a ride?"
Caroline wasted no breath in words, but clambered up to the seat beside
him.
"Startin' out early, ain't you?" he queried. "Goin' far up my way?"
"Pretty far," she answered cautiously, "but not so very."
"Oh!" said he, impressed by such diplomacy. "'Bout where, now?"
"Have you sold many eggs this morning?" she inquired with amiable
interest.

"Twenty-three dozen, an' seven pair o' broilers," he informed her.
"Goin' as far as my place?"
"I s'pose it's pretty cold as early as you get up," Caroline suggested
pleasantly.
The egg-and-chicken man surrendered. "Middling," he answered
respectfully, "but it smells so good and things looks so pretty, I don't
mind. I'm glad I don't live in the city. It's all pavin'-stone an' smoke.
This time o' year I like to feel the dirt under m' feet, somehow."
"So do I," said Caroline fervently. They jogged on for a mile in silence.
"I have to get out here," said he, finally, "but don't be scared. That
horse won't move a peg without me. I'll be back in