On getting the vehicle righted, they found that one wheel was broken so badly as to need repairs before the journey could be continued, and Mr. Trafton surveyed the damage with grave concern. The boy gave a low whistle, and murmured: “Here’s a state of things!” “I don’t see what I’m going to do,” remarked the gentleman. “There’s nobody in this region who could mend that wheel, I suppose?” “Oh yes there is!” cried the boy, brightening up. “Doran’s blacksmith shop is only a little ways down the road; you can get the wheel fixed there. I’ll go along and hold up this side of the buggy; and I’ll pay the bill, sir, as I caused the damage.” Mr. Trafton looked at him approvingly, but answered: “You need not do that, my boy. The bill won’t amount to much; but the job may take some time--and where can I leave my little girl? I suppose you would not care to wait in the blacksmith shop, Linda?” Before Linda could reply, the boy said, looking at her frankly, and not at all abashed: “She can stay with my grandma while you’re having the wheel fixed. Mrs. Deacon Burbank is my grandma; she lives right here, sir,” pointing out the house. “And where do you live?” asked Mr. Trafton, who took a liking to Mrs. Deacon Burbank’s grandson, for all his annoyance at the trouble which that lively youth had caused him. “I’m staying with grandma this summer,” said the boy; “but I live in Boston when I’m at home. My name is John Burbank.” “Well, John, you will have to take Linda to your grandma, for I cannot leave Billy standing here with this broken buggy.” “All right, sir; I’ll be back in a minute, and help you down to Doran’s.” So saying, John Burbank led the way, and Linda followed, to the nearest of the brown old houses--a big, broad-roofed domicile, with wide, double doors and narrow windows, and with two great cherry trees in the front yard, looking like two great drifts of snow, they were so thickly covered with white blossoms. A border of red and yellow tulips, gay daffodils, and “crown imperials,” edged the narrow walk which led from the front gate around to the side door, where they were received by a surprised old lady in gold-bowed spectacles, to whom John presented his companion, with the following concise account of the accident which occasioned her unexpected appearance: “Grandma, here’s a girl, and her father is out there with his team, and they’ve just had a break-down, and it was all my doing; but I didn’t mean to! I scared the horse, hollering at a squirrel. I’ve got to go and help her father get the buggy down to Doran’s, and she’s going to stay here till it’s fixed, and her name’s Linda. I don’t know what her other name is.” “Linda Trafton,” supplemented Linda, as the boy paused to catch his breath.