“I guess there is some hurry,” he said slowly. “I’ve got to grow up’s quick’s I can.” The man looked down at the valiant little figure at his side with a queer twist of his weather-beaten face. “Did—Barb’ry tell you that?” he wanted to know after a short silence. “No,” said Jimmy, shaking his head, “Barb’ra didn’t tell me. I—just thinked it. You see, it’s this way,” he went on, with a serious grown-up air, “I’m all Barb’ra’s got, an’ Barb’ra’s all I’ve got. We’ve just got each other; an’—an’—the farm.” Peg pursed up his lips in an inaudible whistle. “You wasn’t thinkin’ of givin’ up the farm—you an’ Barb’ry; was you?” he inquired presently. “What? Me an’ Barb’ra give up the—farm?” echoed Jimmy, in a shocked little voice. “Why—we couldn’t do that.” “Seein’ the’s jus’ th’ two of you, Cap’n—you an’ Barb’ry, an’—an’—the farm, I didn’t know but what you was calc’latin’ t’ move int’ th’ village, where the’s more folks, an’——” Jimmy shook his blond head vigorously. “We couldn’t live anywhere else,” he said decidedly. “It’s—why, it’s our home!” Peg had taken the reins and the wagon jolted noisily between the tall stone gate-posts, past the big elms and the groups of untrimmed evergreens, to where the house stood on its low grassy terrace, a gravelled driveway encircling it. It was a wide, low, old-fashioned house with narrow porches and small-paned windows, glittering in the sun like little fires. Obviously the house had not been painted for a long time; and its once dazzling walls and green shutters had softened with time and uncounted storms into a warm silvery gray which lent a certain dignity to its square outlines. Jimmy climbed down over the wheel and dashed excitedly into the house. “I’ve come, Barb’ra!” he shouted imperiously. “Where are you, Barb’ra?” The door of the sitting-room opened and a young woman came out. She was tall and slender, with masses of warm brown hair, a red mouth, and a brilliantly clear pale skin; her gray eyes under their long dark lashes were wide and angry, but they softened as they fell upon the small figure in the red tam. “I’ve got a neligant birfday present f’r you, Barb’ra,” announced the little boy loudly. “An’ I’ve got a quart of m’lasses an’ I’ve got a letter f’om way out west. An’ Al Hewett he wants to know——” “Hush, Jimmy,” said the girl, stooping to kiss the child’s red mouth. “There’s—someone here. I—can’t stop now. Go and get warm in the kitchen. I’ll come presently.” She opened a door peremptorily and the child passed through it, his bright face clouded with disappointment. “Don’t you want to see your—birfday present, even?” he demanded with quivering lips. “I bought it with my fi’ cents, an’ it’s——”