"You can truly eat the pies," he remarked. "There's a _little_ sugar in 'em. I saved it off the top o' _her_ bun," indicating Anne's locality with a jerk of his little cropped head. So it was a fact, was it? He had been eating something when he crossed the rose-garden? Miss Salome wondered at Anne. The next day, and the next,--every day the Little Blue Overalls came, always in a new character. Miss Salome found herself watching for him. She could catch the little blue glint of very small overalls as soon as they got to the far side of the rose-garden. But for Anne, at the end of the first week she would have gone out to meet him. Dear, dear, but for Miss Salome, Anne would have gone! The Little Blue Overalls confided his troubles to Miss Salome. He told her how hard it was to be the only boy,--how impossible, of course, it was to play girly plays, and how he had longed to find a congenial spirit. Mysteriously enough, he appeared confident that he had found the congenial spirit at last. Miss Salome's petticoats seemed no obstacle. He showed her his pocketful of treasures. He taught her to whittle, and how to bear it when she "bleeded." He taught her to whistle--very softly, on account of Anne. (He taught Anne, too--softly, on account of Miss Salome.) He let her make sails for his boats, and sew on his buttons,--those that Anne didn't sew on. "Dear John," wrote Miss Salome, "the raspberries are ripe. When you were a very small person--say seven--did you ever mash them between raspberry leaves, with 'sugar in,' and call them pies,--and eat them? They are really palatable. Of course it is a little risky on account of possible bugs. I don't remember that you were a remarkable little boy. Were you? Did you ever play you were a highwayman, or an elephant, or anything of that sort? Queer I can't remember. "Anne is delighted with her southern exposure, but she has never said so. That is why I know she is. I am delighted with the roses and the closets and the horse-chestnut--especially the horst-chestnut. That is where we play--I mean it is most pleasant there, hot afternoons. Did you use to dote on horse-chestnuts? Queer boys should. But I rather like them myself, in a way,--out of the way! We have picked up a hundred and seventeen." Miss Salome dropped into the plural number innocently, and Elizabeth laughed over John's shoulder. Elizabeth did the reading between the lines. John was only a man. One day Little Blue Overalls was late. He came from the direction of the stable that adjoined Miss Salome's house. He was excited and breathless. A fur rug was draped around his shoulders and trailed uncomfortably behind him.