Mr. Howitt accepted the invitation with evident pleasure, and, soon after, the mountaineer rode away to Bear Creek, on his quest for a man to herd sheep.  Young Matt had already gone with his team to the field on the hillside west of the house, and the brown pony stood at the gate ready for Sammy Lane to return to her home on Dewey Bald.

“I’d like the best in the world to stay, Aunt Mollie,” she said, in answer to Mrs. Matthews’ protest; “but you know there is no one to feed the stock, and besides Mandy Ford will be back sometime to-day.”

The older woman’s arm was around the girl as they went down the walk.  “You must come over real often, now, honey; you know it won’t he long ’til you’ll be a leavin’ us for good.  How do you reckon you’ll like bein’ a fine lady, and livin’ in the city with them big folks?”

The girl’s face flushed, and her eyes had that wide questioning look, as she answered slowly, “I don’t know, Aunt Mollie; I ain’t never seen a sure ’nough fine lady; I reckon them city folks are a heap different from us, but I reckon they’re just as human.  It would be nice to have lots of money and pretties, but somehow I feel like there’s a heap more than that to think about.  Any how,” she added brightly, “I ain’t goin’ for quite a spell yet, and you know ‘Preachin’ Bill’ says, ’There ain’t no use to worry ’bout the choppin’ ’til the dogs has treed the coon.’  I’ll sure come over every day.”

Mrs. Matthews kissed the girl, and then, standing at the gate, watched until pony and rider had disappeared in the forest.

Later Aunt Mollie, with a woman’s fondness for a quiet chat, brought the potatoes she was preparing for dinner, to sit with Mr. Howitt on the porch.  “I declare I don’t know what we’ll do without Sammy,” she said; “I just can’t bear to think of her goin’ away.”

The guest, feeling that some sort of a reply was expected, asked, “Is the family moving from the neighborhood?”

“No, sir, there ain’t no family to move.  Just Sammy and her Pa, and Jim Lane won’t never leave this country again.  You see Ollie Stewart’s uncle, his father’s brother it is, ain’t got no children of his own, and he wrote for Ollie to come and live with him in the city.  He’s to go to school and learn the business, foundry and machine shops, or something like that it is; and if the boy does what’s right, he’s to get it all some day; Ollie and Sammy has been promised ever since the talk first began about his goin’; but they’ll wait now until he gets through his schoolin’.  It’ll be mighty nice for Sammy, marryin’ Ollie, but we’ll miss her awful; the whole country will miss her, too.  She’s just the life of the neighborhood, and everybody ’lows there never was another girl like her.  Poor child, she ain’t had no mother since she was a little trick, and she has always come to me for everything like, us bein’ such close neighbors, and all.  But law! sir, I ain’t a blamin’ her a mite for goin’, with her Daddy a runnin’ with that ornery Wash Gibbs the way he does.”