As the stage pulled into Old Chester, Mr. Pryor roused himself. "Well,

my boy, here we are," he said.

The child quivered and his hands tightened on his bundle, but he said

nothing. When they drew up at the tavern, there was Danny and Goliath

and Dr. Lavendar.

"Mary gave me some gingerbread for him," Dr. Lavendar was saying to

Van Horn. "I've got it tied up in my handkerchief. Why," he

interrupted himself, screwing up his eyes and peering into the dusk of

the old coach--"why, I believe here's Mrs. Richie's brother too!"

As the horses came to a standstill, Dr. Lavendar was in quite a

flutter of eagerness. But when the very little boy clambered out, the

old minister only shook hands with him, man fashion, with no

particular display of interest.

"I'm glad to see you, David. I am Dr. Lavendar." Then he turned to say

"How do you do?" to Mr. Pryor. "Why, look here," he added in a

cheerful after-thought, "I'm going up your way; get out and come along

in my buggy. Hey! Danny! Stop your snarling. The scoundrel's temper is

getting bad in his old age. Those snails Jonas drives can't keep up

with my trotter."

"But you have one passenger already," Mr. Pryor protested. "I'll just

go on up in the stage, thank you."

"Oh," Dr. Lavendar said, "David's bundle is the biggest part of him,

isn't it, David? We'll leave it with Van Horn and get it as we come

back. Come along, Mr. Pryor. There, David, tuck yourself down in

front; Danny can tag behind." There was a moment's hesitation, and

then Mr. Pryor did as he was bid. Dr. Lavendar climbed in himself and

off they jogged, while Jonas remarked to Van Horn that the old

gentleman wasn't just the one to talk about snails, as he looked at

it. But Mr. Pryor, watching the April sunshine chased over the hills

by warm cloud shadows and bursting into joy again on the low meadows,

reflected that he had done well for himself in exchanging the dark

cavern of the stage for Dr. Lavendar's easy old buggy and the open

air. They stopped a minute on the bridge to look at the creek swollen

by spring rains; it was tugging and tearing at the branches that

dipped into it, and heaping up rocking lines of yellow froth along the

banks.

"In summer that's a fine place to wade," Dr. Lavendar observed. David

glanced up at him and then down at the water in silence.




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