LIZA STEPPED BACK, DRAWING HER ROLL OFF THE SPINDLE INTO A LONG WOOLLY THREAD 134 “I SEIZED HIS BRIDLE AND TRIED TO LEAD HIM OUT” 184 THE PERFORMER PLAYED SOME LITTLE MARCH 254 [Illustration: ROCKY FORK] CHAPTER I DOCTOR GARDE’S LITTLE GIRL Many years ago the morning sun looked down among the tall hills of central Ohio, and saw one little girl patting along a path. The path wound down through a hollow, and up, up over wood-clothed heights which she thought nearly touched the sky. At first glance this little girl appeared to be a large slat sun-bonnet taking a walk on a pair of long pantalettes. But at second glance one brown, thin arm escaped from a short sleeve might have been seen carrying a calico bag by its drawing-string; and under the pantalettes a pair of stout-shod little feet skipped along. It was not more than seven o’clock. The tall meadow grass was glittering, and every bird known to the State was singing with his morning voice. When she reached the small run which twisted along the hollow, and put her foot on the first of the stepping-stones which crossed it, the little girl could not help stopping to gaze in the water. The minnows played around the stone with a quiver of their tiny bodies which fascinated the gazer. She stooped cautiously and tried to catch one in her hand, but sunshine on the pebbles was not more elusive. “Good-morning, little girl,” said a winning voice; and the little girl jumped up, reeled, set one foot in the water, and brandished her reticule in the effort to regain her balance. The sugared butter-bread and sweet cookies tumbled against currant-pie and cherries, and all settled to an upside-down condition as she finally got on the bank and saw a gentleman preparing to trip across the stones. It was an uncommon thing to meet any one, and especially a stranger, on that long two-mile path to school. But it was a wonderful thing to meet such a grand stranger. She dropped a bobbing curtsy, and the gentleman, having crossed, stopped and smiled. He had glittering black eyes, and curly hair and whiskers, glittering teeth and boots, fine clothes, and altogether the look of a “town gentleman.” “Whose little girl are you?” inquired this town gentleman affably, rubbing the wet soles of his boots on the grass. Under the long slat sun-bonnet a round face blushed all about its blue eyes and quite back to its auburn hair, and a timid voice piped from the calico funnel: “I’m Doctor Garde’s little girl.” “Ah! where does Doctor Garde live?” “Right back there in that big house.” “And who lives in this house I just passed?” “Mrs. Banks. Her little girls go to school with me.” “Yes. And where do you go to school?” “In the school-house ’way at the other side of the hills.” “Oho! many children go there?”