“Well, SHE certainly ought to be punished!” he insisted, and then, with a reversal to agony, he shuddered. “That's the least of it!” he cried. “It's the insulting things you always allow her to say of one of the noblest girls in the United States--THAT'S what counts! On the very last day--yes, almost the last hour--that Miss Pratt's in this town, you let your only daughter stand there and speak disrespectfully of her--and then all you do is tell her to 'go and play somewhere else'! I don't understand your way of bringing up a child,” he declared, passionately. “I do NOT!” “There, there, Willie,” Mrs. Baxter said. “You're all wrought up--” “I am NOT wrought up!” shouted William. “Why should I be charged with--” “Now, now!” she said. “You'll feel better to-morrow.” “What do you mean by that?” he demanded, breathing deeply. For reply she only shook her head in an odd little way, and in her parting look at him there was something at once compassionate, amused, and reassuring. “You'll be all right, Willie,” she said, softly, and closed the door. Alone, William lifted clenched hands in a series of tumultuous gestures at the ceiling; then he moaned and sank into a chair at his writing-table. Presently a comparative calm was restored to him, and with reverent fingers he took from a drawer a one-pound box of candy, covered with white tissue-paper, girdled with blue ribbon. He set the box gently beside him upon the table; then from beneath a large, green blotter drew forth some scribbled sheets. These he placed before him, and, taking infinite pains with his handwriting, slowly copied: DEAR LOLA--I presume when you are reading these lines it will be this afternoon and you will be on the train moving rapidly away from this old place here farther and farther from it all. As I sit here at my old desk and look back upon it all while I am writing this farewell letter I hope when you are reading it you also will look back upon it all and think of one you called (Alias) Little Boy Baxter. As I sit here this morning that you are going away at last I look back and I cannot rember any summer in my whole life which has been like this summer, because a great change has come over me this summer. If you would like to know what this means it was something like I said when John Watson got there yesterday afternoon and interrupted what I said. May you enjoy this candy and think of the giver. I will put something in with this letter. It is something maybe you would like to have and in exchange I would give all I possess for one of you if you would send it to me when you get home. Please do this for now my heart is braking. Yours sincerely, WILLIAM S. BAXTER (ALIAS) LITTLE BOY BAXTER.