long breath and made a fresh start. He progressed yet farther toward the cat, but again slipped back. This he repeated twice, yet without losing courage. The fourth trial was more deliberate and seemed steadier. Reuben slipped several times, but only for a short distance, and the four below held their breaths when he stopped finally, just out of reach of the lower branches. He grasped the trunk so tightly, feet, knees, and arms, that Miss Penny almost expected to hear it crack.

"Go it, Rube," called the little boys, not knowing his name but referring to his overalls, bare feet, and mop of red hair which wanted cutting. The janitor remarked to Miss Penny that if that 'ere young imp ever got to the academy, there'd be more trouble than ever along o' putting things atop the flagpole.

Miss Penny told him gently that Reuben was an orphan, as if that were a certificate of virtue, and the janitor said he was only jesting.

Meantime Reuben was struggling in vain to get beyond that point. He could not gain one inch. They saw him measuring the distance with his eye. Then he clung still more tightly with his feet in preparation for what seemed like a hazardous move, though afterward he denied it so to have been. Releasing his arms suddenly, he gave a sort of spring and just caught the lowest branch.

The cat started violently. For a moment Reuben hung almost helpless by his hands, struggling to pull himself up. Then by a quick move, somehow he flung his feet over the limb, turned easily, stood almost upright, and made his way from branch to branch until he was within reach of the quarry. The cat backed, struggled a minute, then dropped contentedly into his arms.

A curious shout went up from below, compounded of the reluctant gruff applause of the stout janitor, Miss Penny's high-pitched relief and gratitude, and the genuine sportsmanlike enthusiasm of the little boys.

Then the question arose as to how he was to get down with the cat in his arms? Miss Penny finally decided that they must get a sheet or table-cloth and hold it each by a corner while he dropped the cat into it. The little boys refusing to fetch one lest they miss something meanwhile, the janitor felt reluctantly constrained to offer to go.

"Tell him not to move till I get back," he begged Miss Penny.

But even as he spoke, they saw that Reuben had his own plan. He had removed his cotton blouse and was making a bag by tying the sleeves together. Putting puss into it, he drew the elastic tight and fastened it, slung it over his back and started down. Almost before they had time to draw breath, his

bare heels struck the ground and he handed the imprisoned cat to Miss Penny with a flourish that appealed to the little boys and was perhaps pardonable under the circumstances.

An odd-looking figure, he was certainly, as he stood in his undershirt and overalls, his bare neck and arms, fair as a girl's, contrasting sharply with his tanned face and hands, shaking the mop of hair out of his shining brown eyes. Miss Penny hugged him to her heart, then hurried him away, amid the cheers and the jeers (the latter because of the embrace) of the little boys, to put on his jacket before he should take cold.

And the fat pony, trotting blithely home to his dinner, was presumably unaware of the extra burden in the phaeton.

CHAPTER IV

ISS PENNY lived near Farleigh Academy in

MTSS

the South Hollow in a typical old-fashioned farmhouse. Painted white with green shutters, the main part of the building had two stories and an attic, and the ell two stories and a half. It stood back from the highway only a few rods, a flagged walk bordered by continuous flower-plots leading from the neat gate in the picket fence to the oldfashioned porch over the front door. There was a large orchard on one side. On the other, beyond the ell and nearer the street, was a tiny red building known as the "shop" and scarcely opened these days. Farther back was a great red barn with cupola and weather-vane, beyond which was a garden and several acres of rich land.

Within, the house was as comfortable and homely as might have been expected. Rag carpets, braided rugs, padded arm-chairs, chintz-covered rockers, old-fashioned pictures, framed mottoes worked in worsted on canvas, roomy sofas, afghans, and hassocks were hospitably apparent everywhere except in the parlor. And even there, a brilliant Brussels carpet that had to be protected from strong sun

light, furniture upholstered in haircloth, and wax flowers under glass couldn't banish the prevailing impression of simple comfort.

The kitchen was perhaps the most attractive room in the house. Occupying the greater part of the ground floor of the ell, it was large and pleasant and served the purposes of a living-room as well. Windows on opposite sides insured the sun all day in winter, a draft in summer, and framed two charming landscapes all the year round. The necessary and usual kitchen furnishings were unusually attractive, being more shining, more mellow, or more quaint than those one commonly saw. Then there were numerous hand-made rugs on the clean painted floor, framed chromos, cheerful of subject and coloring on the walls, and three very comfortable chintz-covered chairs.

Two of the latter were drawn up to the fire on the afternoon of the rescue of the marooned cat, and occupied by Miss Penny and Reuben, who were conversing so easily and comfortably that, if one had heard without seeing, one would have suspected the difference of their ages only from their voices. On the brick floor which surrounded the stove the rescued white cat moved restlessly about, now sipping milk from a deep saucer, now rubbing against their feet and purring cheerfully if rather hoarsely.