"Is it true an areoplane come down in Mr. Carder's field yisterday?" The question volleyed at the dwarf from a dozen directions. He stared at them all dumbly, and they cried at him the more, one woman shaking him by the shoulder. "Look here, shut up, all of you!" said the proprietor; "let the boy do his business first. Ye'll put it all out of his head. What d'ye want, Pete?" The dwarf drew a list out of his pocket and handed it to the grocer upon which the bystanders all fell upon him again. As Ben regarded the dwarf, he felt some reflection of Geraldine's compassion for the forlorn little object in his ragged clothes, and he realized that it was a wonder that the poor, stultified brain had possessed enough initiative to carry out the important part he had played in their lives. While the grocer's clerk was putting up the packages the man himself laid his hand on Pete's shoulder. "Now then, boy," he said kindly, "an areoplane dived down out o' the sky into your medder yisterday and picked up a homely, stupid girl and flew off with her." "She was an angel!" exclaimed the dwarf. His dull eyes brightened and looked away. "She was more beautiful than flowers." "She was, eh?" returned the grocer, and the crowd listened breathlessly. "They say your master was goin' to marry her? That a fact?" The light went out of Pete's face and his lips closed. The grocer shook him gently by the shoulder. "Speak up, boy. Was there any shootin'? Did the air turn blue 'round there?" Pete's lips did not open for a moment. "Master told me not to talk," he said at last. A burst of excited laughter came from the crowd. "Then it's true, it's true!" they cried. The grocer kept his hand on the dwarf's shoulder. "Ye might as well tell," he said, "'cause Hiram Jones come in last night and told us all about it." Pete's lips remained closed. "Give ye a big lump o' chocolate if ye'll tell us," said one woman. "Master told me not to talk," was all the boy would say. The grocer's clerk went out to the auto with a basket and packed the purchases into it. Ben came from behind the starch boxes, went out the door, and accosted him. "Do you want to make five dollars?" he asked. "Do I?" drawled the boy, winking at him. "Ain't I got a girl?" "Then jump in and drive this car out to the Carder farm. I want to talk to Pete." "Eh-h-h! You're a reporter!" cried the boy. "Less see the money." Ben promptly produced it. "In with you now." "Sure, I'll have to speak to Pete," the boy demurred. "He can't walk out to the farm with them phony legs." "In with you," repeated the tall stranger firmly. "Go now or not at all." He held the bill before the boy's eyes. "I have my car at the inn. I'll take care of Pete." The boy looked eagerly at the money. "Can't I tell the boss?" "I'll fix it with the boss. Here's your money. In with you."