"He won't neither, at all. Hush up!" came a defense and a command in a very imperious young voice, and the Stray followed the voice from around the large trunk of the oldest graybeard. He had arrived late on the scene of action because his impedimenta had been the wriggling puppy of brindle hue, which he immediately released as he came over and stood between the Reverend Mr. Goodloe and me, with my hand in his own small paddie and defiance and defense to the limit in his high-held young head with its black crest and snapping violet eyes. At last I felt Charlotte had met her match and I trembled for the result. "She never stoled nothing," he further declared, looking Charlotte full in the eye. "I meant she tooken him away, Stranger," parleyed Charlotte with extreme mildness for her and giving to the Stray the name that she had decided upon by translating the cognomen of his state into that of another almost equally forlorn. "My father told my Auntie Harriet that Aunt Charlotte would git Minister yet and I'll call the devil to stop her if she tries to get him away." "I'll bust that devil's head with a rock and a bad smell," answered the Stray as he held tighter to my hand and hurled back his threat that held a remembrance of the conquering of the tenacious turtle. "Auntie Harriet answered father that Auntie Charlotte and the devil could do most anything that--" small James was contributing to the general assault when with a wave of a calming hand Mr. Goodloe took the field. "That will do, youngsters," he commanded with extreme mildness it seemed to me, considering the appalling situation. "I thought you had had about enough practice for to-day and Charlotte could have taught the little boy--er--" "Stranger," prompted Charlotte. "You could have taught him up to the point you knew so I could have a nice rest here under the lovely trees. Are you being kind to me in not helping me a little bit? You know what you promised me." And the beloved "Minister's" voice was just as grave and just as serious as if he had been reproving one of his deacons. "Is talking to Auntie Charlotte and holding her hand the Lord's work?" demanded Charlotte, looking him straight in the face. "Yes," answered Mr. Goodloe, gravely, looking her as straight in the eye as she had looked him. "Then come on, Stranger, and learn the march without any tune but Sue," she said as she stretched out her hand to the Stray, who ignored it and clung to me with his serious eyes raised to mine. "I'll go with you now over in the chapel and play for you on the organ and then we can all teach him," said the parson, and he picked wee Susan, the music box, up in his arms and buried his lips in the curls on the back of her fragrant little neck. "Are you all done with Auntie Charlotte?" asked young Charlotte, with the extreme of consideration for him, not for my feelings. "Yes, for the present," he answered, and he held out his free hand to the Stray, who was still clinging to me.