"Isn't any 'rest,'" grunted Kent, "unless you count the organ-grinder;
he had some-looked as if he'd rested. Well, sir"--Kent suddenly woke
up--"but without any fooling, you ought to have seen that old chap when
I came on him. He was all used up--heat, you know. There was a creek,
back a ways, and the water kind of pulled him up. He couldn't talk
English, but he offered me a black two-cent piece for pay. He turned
his pocket out to find it. That set me to thinking I'd make him a
little richer."

"Of course! Go on!" hurried Jot.

"Isn't any 'on.'"

"There's honor," Old Tilly cried softly. "I say that was splendid,
Kentie! I like that!"

Kent flushed uneasily. Old Tilly's face looked like father's when he
said his rare, hearty words of commendation.

"Well, the organ-grinder likes it, too!" Kent laughed. "Now he can have
something to eat. Poor old fellow! He couldn't have gone through all
those dooryards to save his life! He was 'most sunstruck. I told a
motherly old lady about him, at one of the houses, and she's going to be
on the lookout for him, and give him a snack of meat and bread."

They went on for half a mile quite silently. Then, without warning.
Jot suddenly began to laugh. He tumbled off his bicycle and collapsed
in a feeble heap.

"Don't anybody st-op me !" he cried. "It's dangerous! I'm having one o'