The gentleman from the city had rented a country-place in the White Mountains for the summer. Returning from a walk he noted, as he neared his front gate, signs that a mishap had occurred on the road. A load of hay had been overturned while in transit. It was piled in a great shock at the edge of the highway where its weight had caused it to slide from the wagon upon which it was being moved. The team were nibbling grass in the ditch. A fourteen year old boy, dripping with perspiration, and plainly very tired from his exertion, was forking the hay back on the wagon with tremendous energy. “What happened?” asked the gentleman—a somewhat unnecessary question in view of the evidence. “The wheels went down in a rut,” said the boy, “and this here jag of hay turned bottom-side up.” “Well, you look all tired out,” said the sympathetic city man. “This seems to be a pretty big job for one of your years, too. Suppose you quit for awhile and go on up to my house yonder with me and have a bite to eat and a drink of cold lemonade or buttermilk.” “I wouldn’t dast to do that,” said the boy. “Paw wouldn’t like it ef I didn’t get this here hay put back right away.” “Oh, that’ll be all right. Nothing is going to happen to your hay while you’re gone or to your team, either. Come along with me; I’m sure your father won’t mind.” Half reluctantly, as though swayed by conflicting emotions the youngster laid down his fork and accompanied the hospitable stranger. Twice, during the course of the meal which was provided for him, he paused from eating to voice his fears that “Paw” would be seriously annoyed for his failure to complete the job of replacing that hay. Each time his host reassured him, meanwhile pressing fresh helpings of this and that upon his young guest. Finally, at the end of half an hour or so, the boy pushed his chair back from the table and rose up. “I guess I’ll be goin’ now,” he said. “Paw’ll want I should get that hay forked up. I expect he’ll be mighty pestered with me.” “Why need your father know anything at all about it?” said the gentleman. “Why, Paw must know about it already,” explained the youngster. “Where is your father?” asked the city-man. “I didn’t see him as I came along.” “He’s under the hay,” stated the youngster simply. § 361 Consolation for the Imperilled One In a California town is an old family physician with rather a caustic wit. He was in attendance at the confinement of a lady whom we will call Mrs. A—a wife of a year. There were no complications; the affair was progressing as well as might reasonably be expected.