"And she began to empty her pockets that were filled with sweet, juicy bon-bons, over the brink and down into the stream; and shouldering her big bag of herbs, prepared to start up the face of the cliff. The little old man went tottering back over the foot-bridge to the village; nor is there any doubt that he went home and cried over the thought of her candy and kept crying until he forgot about it. "And now," said the vagabond, "lest the thought of 'Aunt Twaddles'' candy brings tears to my eyes, for I have eaten some of it myself, let us pause for a moment while we more comfortably seat ourselves before I proceed with the story." The almost vertical rays of the mid-day sun were pouring a merciless fire upon a portion of the charmed circle and the story-teller with his group of merry children was not slow in selecting a new spot further in under the protecting branches of the tree. The children had been so absorbed in the wonderful tale of the wanderer that they had failed to notice the intense heat until, down the faces of some of the smaller ones, drops of perspiration were flowing like tears. Amid a clamorous shout of "Go on! Go on!" uttered in concert by the delighted children, it was thus the wanderer continued. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ CHAPTER III THE PATH UP THE CLIFF "In the Village of Harpers Ferry, there stood for many years an old Inn;—so old that no one knew its age. It was built in the days before saw-mills were known, when all the lumber was either split out or sawed out by hand. The weather-stained boards on its rickety sides were covered with moss from the eaves down to the ground, while the shingles of the roof were so twisted and warped out of place that they afforded little or no protection to the dwellers within. "Travel was light in Harpers Ferry during the time of which I speak, and the lack of good business, together with his miserly nature, kept the old Inn-keeper peevish and cross; so much so that he was despised by everyone about the village. "He was a wheezy little old man with a wooden leg, the rough oaken stump of which, with its shafts and mysterious harness, was a source of much wonder as well as merriment to the children of the neighborhood; while the little old man himself seemed to be just withering away and drying up on his feet, instead of growing weak and infirm, as is the usual course with most things that are old. "Two bright little orphan grandchildren answered his cross, squeaky call, and as their father had been dead ever since they were babies, and their dear mother had died some two years before, they lived with the cross old man at the Inn, where they received a scolding or whipping much oftener than they did a good dinner. Never was he heard to speak a kind word to either of them.