Caroline wasted no breath in words, but clambered up to the seat beside him. "Startin' out early, ain't you?" he queried. "Goin' far up my way?" "Pretty far," she answered cautiously, "but not so very." "Oh!" said he, impressed by such diplomacy. "'Bout where, now?" "Have you sold many eggs this morning?" she inquired with amiable interest. "Twenty-three dozen, an' seven pair o' broilers," he informed her. "Goin' as far as my place?" "I s'pose it's pretty cold as early as you get up," Caroline suggested pleasantly. The egg-and-chicken man surrendered. "Middling," he answered respectfully, "but it smells so good and things looks so pretty, I don't mind. I'm glad I don't live in the city. It's all pavin'-stone an' smoke. This time o' year I like to feel the dirt under m' feet, somehow." "So do I," said Caroline fervently. They jogged on for a mile in silence. "I have to get out here," said he, finally, "but don't be scared. That horse won't move a peg without me. I'll be back in a minute." But when he returned she was not there. The houses were thinning out rapidly; one side of the road was already only a succession of fields, and along a tiny worn path through one of these Caroline was hurrying nervously. She crossed the widening brook, almost a little river now, and kept along its farther bank for half an hour, then left it and struck into the fringe of the woods. It was very still here; the road was far away, and only the chatter of the birds and the liquid cluck of the little stream disturbed the stillness of the growing things. She walked softly, except for the whisper of brushing against the spreading branches that choked the tiny path. The heat of noon was rising to its climax, and the shafts of light struck warm on her cheeks. Suddenly a sound disturbed the peace of the woods--a scratching, rattling, scurrying sound. Something was moving through the dead leaves that had gathered among the roots and trunks. She started back nervously, but jumped forward again with a cry of delight, and caught William Thayer in her arms. Even as he was licking her cheek, the path widened, the trees turned into bushes, the underbrush melted away, and the brook, a little river now, bent in upon them in a broad curve, spanned only by stepping-stones. It ran full between its grassy banks, gurgling and chuckling as it lapped the stones, a mirror for the fat white clouds where it lay in still pools. In the shelter of a boulder, a lad crouched over a fire, coaxing it with bits of paper and handfuls of dry leaves. Just as the flames shot up, the dog barked cheerily, and the lad turned to welcome him. His eye fell on Caroline; amazement and real pleasure grew into a delighted laugh. "Well, if you don't beat the Dutch!" he cried. "How'd you get here?" "I came in the wagon with the egg-and-chicken man," said she happily, "and then I walked 'cross lots. William Thayer knew me just as well!"