“I certainly will,” said Joyce with almost a shout of glee in her voice, as she turned and fairly flew back the four blocks to her little house, straining her eyes as she came nearer to make sure it still stood whole and fair before her. Yes, there it was, all vine clad. How dear and sweet. But the vine would have to go of course. It could not survive. What a pity. Of course those men would think that was all nonsense. If she only had a little time perhaps she might have managed to get the root loose and maybe it would live, but there wasn’t time and she mustn’t think of it. She must hurry, hurry back to that woman who had been so good, and help her with all her might. “She’s a comin’,” growled Tom as the sound of her swift footsteps drew near, “an’ she don’t sound discouraged neither.” “What’d I tell ye?” growled the other. “The hour ain’t up fer ten minutes yet neither.” “Mebbe she’s comin’ to ask fer more time,” urged Tom squinting down the street speculatively. “No,” said the other, “she wouldn’t come till the time was up to the minute ef that was it. Anyhow, look at her! She’s ashinin’ like a robin just back fer spring. That ain’t no discouragin’ countenance, ur my name ain’t McClatchey.” The big auto truck was just lumbering around the corner as Joyce arrived panting and triumphant: “I’ve found a nice place,” she said joyously, “just down this street three blocks, and one around the corner. It’s opposite the side of a row of stores, just beyond the stores on the side street. There’s a fence, but I thought perhaps you could back right up to it and slide the house over it.” “Most likely we kin,” said the boss filling his pipe speculatively, and straightening up to await the truck. “What! Ain’t ya got the kindlin’ ready to pile on yet, boys? It’s most quittin’ time now. You said--.” “Hold your clack!” commanded the chief. “This here is a house, it ain’t no load o’ kindlin’ wood. You made a mistake. I’ve sold this here buildin’ an’ it’s gotta be delivered to oncet. You clamber down, Sam, an’ git them jacks an’ rollers from behind that hedge, an’ get busy.” “Can you tell me how much it will be?” asked Joyce anxiously remembering that this was a momentous question and might yet present an impossible barrier to her plans. She looked from the driver to the chief in a troubled way, and the chief spoke up gruffly: “Oh, you kin give him five bucks too ef you want fer keepin’ his tongue still, but he has to do what I say, and I say this here house is goin’ to be moved t’night. Look out there Sam, don’t you knock that there hangin’ garding off’n the end. That’s a part of the proposishun, an’ don’t wantta be destroyed. Get me?” “Oh,” said Joyce, quite childishly clapping her hands. “You’ve saved the vine! Oh, thank you so much!”