Why in the world had she ever listened to the ravings of that man with the soft hat and the hard smile?

After all, Dorothy must be right—­and she, Tavia, was wrong.  Yes, it was indisputably wrong to do the things that had seemed so smart before—­things that Dorothy could never laugh at.

She sighed heavily.  Sam heard it.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, looking over his glasses, and under his wrinkles.

“Oh, nothing,” Tavia sighed further.  “Only I am wondering what my friends are thinking—­of—­me—­about me.”

“Well, there’s scarcely any doubt about that think,” he replied.  “Like as not they think you are drowned—­no good friend would ever think you were—­stranded!”

Sam’s logic was irresistible.  Tavia had not thought of this contingency; they might think her drowned!

“I must hurry to get back,” she said suddenly.  “I wonder could I do any little work, at your boarding house, to earn the price of my—­ticket?”

“You couldn’t manage to stay over until the afternoon, do you think?  I have some mending I’d be mighty glad to get done—­and then I could give you a ticket,” said Sam.

“Oh, that would be splendid!” exclaimed Tavia.  “I would willingly wait over even if I had a chance to go sooner, for you have been so good to me, Uncle Sam,” she said warmly.  “I shouldn’t want to go until I had done something for you.”

“Then it’s a bargain.  While you’re eatin’ your coffee, I’ll grab up the things, and you kin mend over in the station.  We’ll stick to the story that you are my niece, and you kin come inside the office and mend all you like, and it ain’t nobody’s business.  You see, sister died last year, and I ain’t had nobody to fix up the things for me since.”

“I’ll be very glad to do what I can,” said Tavia, “but I never was much good at sewing.  However, I’ll do the very best I can, Uncle Sam.”

“Sure you will, and that’ll be all right.  Here we are.  Now, you just wait while I get the horse’s oats, and then we’ll get ours.”

The house before which he drew up was of the old Colonial type—­the posts had been white, and imposing at some time, but they were now neither white nor any other true color.  Also, they threatened to topple over on the vines, that so kindly did their part in trying to make the old place look alive.

An old man sat on the porch, smoking his pipe.  Sam Dixon spoke to him as he passed around the house to get the horse his breakfast.  Presently a woman, enveloped in gingham dress, and lost in a gingham sunbonnet, came out and stood in wonderment, looking at Tavia.  She glared at her for a moment or two, and then, without speaking a word, entered the house again.  This was not a very cordial welcome for Tavia, but she patted the horse, and pretended not to notice the slight.  Then Sam came limping along with the oats in a nose bag for Major.

“Now eat,” ordered Sam, “and——­” Then it struck him that he had not fixed on a name for his “niece.”  Tavia saw his embarrassment, but before she could suggest a name, he added, “Betsy, you and me’s hungry too, I reckon.  Let’s see what Sarah has to eat in the kitchen.”