to somewhere that a lady lives at, too." And the manful little voice
broke as the bunch shivered up against Sam's legs.

"Honest, Byrd, I thought you were asleep and wouldn't wake up till
morning. You never did before; but when I go--go gallivanting, have I
got to take you or not go?" And Sam's voice was bravely jocular.

"Bring him here to me, Sam," I cried out, quickly. "Come in here with
Betty, Byrd." And I cuddled his long, thin, little legs down under my
lap-blanket beyond the steering-gear. "You didn't forget Betty while she
was away, did you?" I asked, as we snuggled to each other and I started
the motor, while Dr. Chubb chuckled and Sam still stood in the middle of
the moonlit road as if uncertain what to do next.

"Yes, I forgot you," answered Byrd, candidly, though I had adored him
since his birth; "but I like to go see Mother Hayes and eat jelly-cake.
Can I go home with you?"

"No. I'm going as fast as I can with you to your home to keep you from
freezing to death," I answered, quickly adopting this recovered old
friend in the double capacity of an excuse and a chaperon. "Just sit
here in the seat by me and watch me get us all back to your house in a
hurry. You sit with the doctor, Sam."

"Oh no, Betty," answered Sam, quickly. "It is only a little over a mile
now, and the doctor and Byrd and I can walk it all right. You come out
in the morning and--"

"I'm going on with the doctor to those cows, Sam, and if you want to go
with us, get in quick," I answered, in a tone of voice I have used on