Another minute and Aileen came running up the lane. She was wearing the same heavy shoes, the same dark blue cotton dress, half covered now with a gingham apron--Mrs. Champney had not deemed it expedient to furnish a wardrobe until the probation period should have decided her for or against keeping the child. She was bareheaded, her face flushed with the heat and her violent exercise. She stopped short at a little distance from them so soon as she saw that Romanzo was not alone. She tossed back her braid and stamped her foot to emphasize her words: "Why didn't yer come, Romanzo Caukins, when I cried ter yer!" "'Coz I couldn't; he wouldn't let me." He spoke anxiously, making signs towards the shed. But Aileen ignored them; ignored, also, the fact that any one was present besides her slave. Champney answered for himself. He promptly bared his head and advanced to shake hands; but Aileen jerked hers behind her. "I'm Mr. Champney Googe, at your service. Who are you?" The little girl was sizing him up before she accepted the advance; Champney could tell by the "East-side" look with which she favored him. "I'm Miss Aileen Armagh, and don't yer forget it!--at your service." She mimicked him so perfectly that Champney chuckled and Romanzo doubled up in silent glee. "I sha'n't be apt to, thank you. Come, let's shake hands, Miss Aileen Armagh-and-don't-yer-forget-it, for we've got to be friends if you're to stay here with my aunt." He held out both hands. But the little girl kept her own obstinately behind her and backed away from him. "I can't." "Why not?" "'Coz they're all stuck up with spruce gum and Octavius said nothing would take it off but grease, and--" she turned suddenly upon Romanzo, blazing out upon him in her wrath--"I hollered ter yer so's yer could get some for me from Hannah, and you was just dirt mean not to answer me." "Champ wouldn't let me go," said Romanzo sulkily; "besides, I dassn't ask Hannah, not since I used the harness cloth she gave to clean down Jim." "Yer 'dassn't!' Fore I'd be a boy and say 'I dassn't!'" There was inexpressible scorn in her voice. She turned to Champney, her eyes brimming with mischief and flashing a challenge: "And yer dassn't shake hands with me 'coz mine are all stuck up, so now!" Champney had not anticipated this _pronunciamento_, but he accepted the challenge on the instant. "Dare not! You can't say that to me! Here, give me your hands." Again he held out his shapely well-kept members, and Aileen with a merry laugh brought her grimy sticky little paws into view and, without a word, laid them in Champney's palms. He held them close, purposely, that they might adhere and provide him with some fun; then, breaking into his gay laugh he said: