They came almost instantly into the outskirts of a snug little
settlement. The road was flanked on both sides by neat white houses.
Trig little children scurried out of their way, cheering shrilly.
Somewhere there was music. [Transcriber's note: the word "trig", above,
is as it appears in the original book.]

"Hark!" Jot cried.

"Hark yourself! That's a good hand-organ," Old Tilly said; and he
hummed the familiar tune, and both wheels sped on to the time of it, as
it seemed. The music grew louder. "Look up in that dooryard, will you!
Jot Eddy, look at the chap that's grinding it!"

Jot uttered an exclamation of astonishment.




CHAPTER III.

Up in one of the shady side yards stood Kent, turning the crank of a
hand-organ! He was facing the highway where the other two boys were,
but not a trace of recognition was in his face. Ranged in a semicircle
before him was a line of little children shuffling their toes to the gay
tune.

"It's Kent!" gasped Jot.

"Or his ghost--pretty lively one! Where in the world did he get that