wart would be, too. Poor boy! I warned him a hundred--"

"Can we hire a carriage here or not?" demanded Dick. The talk was
growing a little tiresome to him.

"No, you can't!" snapped the old lady. "We never hire out our
carriage. If we did it would soon go to pieces."

"Is there anybody who can drive us to Brill College? We'll pay for the
service, of course."

"No. But you might get a carriage over to the Sanderson place."

"Where is that?" asked Sam.

"Up the road a piece," and the old lady motioned with her head as she
spoke. "But now, if my son Jimmie was in that accident--"

"Good day, madam," said Dick and walked away, and Sam and Tom did the
same. The old lady continued to call after them, but they paid no
attention.

"Poor Jimmie! If he isn't killed in a railroad accident, he'll be
talked to death some day," was Sam's comment.

"Don't you care. We know that Jimmie's got a wart, anyway," observed
Tom, and he said this so dryly his brothers had to laugh. "Always add
to your fund of knowledge when you can," he added, in imitation of his
Uncle Randolph.