you up, Sam."

"Thank you, and I return the compliment," answered Sam, both smouldering
and smiling down at me as if he were saying something to tease me. "And
now as a reward for your kindness I am going to knock you down with some
news." And as he spoke we went on out to the porch, Sam walking like a
new man.

"Oh, the 'worse' thing! I had forgotten about that. Tell me, Sam," I
answered, as I leaned against one of the pillars of the porch and he
seated himself on the railing beside me.

"Well," said Sam, slowly, "this is not worse for you, just for me; that
is, at the present speaking, with nothing but the hay-loft handy. I
don't know just how I'll manage."

"What?"

"Pete," answered Sam.

"What about Peter? Oh, Sam, Peter isn't ill, is he?" And I reached out
and clutched Sam's arm frantically. It takes alarm to test the depths of
one's affection for a friend. I found mine for Peter deeper than I knew.
If anything had happened, Sam would know it first. "Don't be cruel to
me, Sam." And I shook his arm.

"Forgive me, Betty," said Sam, quickly. "Pete's all right and he'll be
here to demonstrate it to you just as soon as I can get a stall built
for him out at The Briers."