A movement of Alice aroused her from her reverie, and looking into the road, she saw directly opposite the house Billy Bender, and with him, Alice’s cradle.  In a moment Mary’s arms were thrown about his neck as tightly as if she thought he had the power and was come to take her away.

“Oh, Billy, Billy,” she said, “I was afraid you would not come, and it made me so unhappy.  Can’t you take me home with you?”

Billy had expected as much, and had tried hard to make his mother say that if Mary and Alice were very homesick he might bring them home.  But this was Mrs. Bender’s sick day, and Billy’s entreaties only increased the dangerous symptoms of palsy from which she was now suffering, the scarlet fever having been given up until another time.

“If the s’lect men pay me well for it,” said she, “I will take them what little time I have to live, but not without.”

Billy knew the town could support them much cheaper where they were, so he gave up his project, and bought Mary a pound of seed cakes and Alice a stick of candy.  Then, the moment the rain had ceased he got himself in readiness to start, for he knew how long the day would seem to Mary, and how much Alice would miss her cradle.  Three times before he got outside the gate his mother called him back—­once to find her snuff-box;—­once to see if there was not more color in her face than there ought to be, and lastly to inquire if her mouth hadn’t commenced turning a little towards the right ear!  After finding her box, assuring her that her color was natural and her mouth all straight, he at last got started.  The road was long and the hills were steep, but patiently Billy toiled on, thinking how surprised and pleased Mary would be; and when he saw how joyfully she received him, he felt more than paid for his trouble.  Some boys would have rudely shaken her off, ashamed to be caressed by a little girl, but Billy’s heart was full of kindly sympathy, and he returned her caresses as a brother would have done.

As he released her, he was startled at hearing some one call out, “Bravo!  That, I conclude, is a country hug.  I hope she won’t try it on me!”

Turning about he saw before him a white-faced boy, nearly of his own age, whose dress and appearance indicated that he belonged to a higher grade, as far as wealth was concerned.  It was Henry Lincoln, notorious both for pride and insolence.  Billy, who had worked for Mr. Lincoln, had been insulted by Henry many a time, and now he longed to avenge it, but native politeness taught him that in the presence of Mary ’twould not be proper, so without a word to Henry he whispered to the little girl, “That fellow lives near here, and if he ever gives you trouble, just let me know.”

“Kissed her then, didn’t you?” sneeringly asked Henry, retreating at the same time, for there was something in Billy’s eye, which he feared.

“Come into the house,” said Mary, “where he can’t see us,” and leading the way she conducted him up to her own room, where there was no fear of being interrupted.