While the boys and Adam were still eating their morning meal, Mary Brown came down to the river. She had a clean sun-bonnet and wore shoes and stockings. These seemed to interfere a good deal with her comfort in walking; but it was quite evident that she had dressed herself in her best for this visit, and most people are willing to sacrifice some comfort when they wish to look very well, indeed. “Mother says she would have come down to see you,” said Mary Brown; “but she’s got the rheumatism in her knee-bones, and can’t walk much. She wanted to see you all, for there ain’t many people who come here, and when they do come, they’re pretty rough.” “I think we look pretty rough,” said Phil, smiling, as he glanced around at the blue shirts and travel-stained garments of his companions. “Clothes ain’t everything,” said Mary; “but if thar was a church here, you’d do to go.” “Where _do_ you go to church?” asked Chap, as he rose from his breakfast. “Me?” said Mary Brown, with a smile. “Why, I was never at church in my life.” Chap looked surprised, and although the others were gathering up the breakfast things and preparing to depart, he continued to talk to Mary Brown. The girl had been very kind to him. Besides this, she interested him. He had never before met with a young person of that kind. “Have you never been anywhere but just here?” he asked. “Oh, yes,” said she. “I’ve been up Indian River two or three times to Cooper’s store with father, and once I went up to Titusville, but that was a long time ago. I only remember that it was a great big place, with lots of houses and ever so many people. There may have been girls there, but I don’t remember seein’ any of ’em.” “It must be dreadful to live in these woods always,” said Chap. “There’s nothin’ dreadful about it,” replied Mary Brown. “The b’ars and wild-cats and painters won’t trouble you if you don’t trouble ’em, and the Indians that come along sometimes is just the same as tame white men. But I would kind o’ like to see other places. Father’s travelled about a good deal, and he’s telled me a lot of what he seed. He once went up to Jacksonville, and he’s been to Tallahassee, and in some of the places he says there are so many houses that they touch each other. But I always thought he was makin’ fun when he told me this. Why, when you had muddy feet, you’d either have to walk right through your house, or else go round the whole town to get to your back door. I can’t believe town-people is such fools as that.” Chap laughed. “I wish you could see a good big city for yourself,” said he. “I’d like to,” replied the girl; and then changing the conversation, she asked, “Have you got a sister?” “Yes,” said Chap,--“one.” “What is her name?” “Helen,” answered Chap. “Can she read?” asked the girl. “Oh, yes,” said Chap. “And write, too, I s’pose?” “Yes,” was the reply, “she can do all that.”