"The wages of walking up and down the earth and going to and fro in
it, tramping like Satan, is a lost leg. Not that it wasn't intended
you should lose yours--and I hope and pray it will be a lesson to
you."

"Well, take it from me," he said grimly, "there's nobody but me
collecting my wages."

A quick approval of this plain truth showed in Miss Sally Ruth's
snapping eyes.

"Come!" said she, briskly. "If you've got sense enough to see _that_,
you're not so far away from the truth as you might be. Collecting your
wages is the good and the bad thing about life, I reckon. But
everything's intended, so you don't need to be too sorry for yourself,
any way you look at it. And you could just as well have lost _both_
legs while you were at it, you know." She paused reflectively. "Let's
see: I've got chicken-broth and fresh rolls to-day--I'll send you over
some, after awhile." She nodded, and went back to her housework.

Laurence went on to High School, Madame had her house to oversee, I
had many overdue calls; so we left Pitache and John Flint together,
out in the birdhaunted, sweet-scented, sun-dappled garden, in the
golden morning hours. No one can be quite heartless in a green garden,
quite hopeless in the spring, or quite desolate when there's a dog's
friendly nose to be thrust into one's hand.

I am afraid that at first he missed all this; for he could think of
nothing but himself and that which had befallen him, coming upon him
as a bolt from the blue. He had had, heretofore, nothing but his