“Yes, wight st’ait away, now!  I’ll go get my hat.”

Down stairs the quick feet pattered to the hall-closet where the little sun hat hung, always ready for the garden.  Soon she was back, and held her chin up with great composure for grandma to tie the strings.

The dear grandmother quietly laid her fine sewing down beside her on the sofa. “Is my little girl going away off by herself in the woods?”

“Yes, miles and mileses!”

“And what will you do when you get hungry?”

“Why, I’m going to take all my money,” forthwith going to a drawer in the old-fashioned book-case, and taking out a diminutive porte-monnaie, which contained her whole fortune, three silver three-cent pieces, and hanging it on her fat little hand, “and I can go to some g’ocery in the woods, and buy lots of butter crackers.”

I, sitting in an easy chair, just recovered from a long illness, suggested, “But, Zay, you might want something besides crackers.  I know a little girl who is very fond of ‘drum-sticks’ and ’wish-bones’!”

“I can eat bears and wolves.  I can make gravy, and,” she added, “I’m going to take grandpa’s gun wif me.”

“Very well,” answered her mamma, going to grandfather’s closet and bringing out the gun, which was twice as large as the child.

There she stood before us—­a little blue-eyed girl with a demure sun-hat shading a very resolute and, as yet, untroubled face, the gun held up tight against her with one fat dimpled hand, while from the other dangled the little purse.

“I’m all yeddy now, so good-bye ev’ybody,” she said at last.

“Good-bye,” said gentle grandma, holding up the little face to kiss the firm red lips.  “I am afraid I shall miss my little girl to-night when I want the red stand drawn out for the drop light; and I’m sure grandpa will need his slippers.”

Zay looked somewhat irresolute; but her mamma here spoke: 

“I think,” said she, “if you intend to reach the woods before dark you should start at once, for it is almost two o’clock now.”

“Good-bye ev’ybody,” said Zay again.

“And,” said Lita, “I’ll carry the gun down and open the front gate for you.”

Bravely the child marched out of the room, out of the front door and gate.  There Lita handed her the gun; but after trying several times to walk with it, she told Lita that she didn’t know as she should care for any wolf wish-bone with her butter crackers, and asked her to take the gun back in the house, and then she banged the gate, hoping Mary saw her, with an air of importance, and pattered off on a fast little dog-trot down the street.

Meanwhile we were all watching her behind the blinds.

“Don’t lose sight of her,” said mamma, “but don’t let her see you!”

This is what Lita saw.  A sturdy little figure walking steadily onward, never looking back.  At length it stops, opens the little purse, counts its money, but never noting that in the trouble with the clasps the three little coins fall, like three silver rain drops, to the pavement.  It goes on and on, till Lita fears it will really go out of sight.  Then the little figure “slows up” again, opens the little purse, and stops short!