wear sabots!"

"Most certainly she will wear sabots," Von Gerhard
said, heatedly, "and blue knitted stockings. And the
baby's name is Mimi!

We had taken hands and were skipping down the pathway
now, like two excited children.

"Let's run," I suggested. And run we did, like two
mad creatures, until we rounded a gentle curve and
brought up, panting, within a foot of a decrepit rail
fence. The rail fence enclosed a stubbly, lumpy field.
The field was inhabited by an inquiring cow. Von Gerhard
and I stood quite still, hand in hand, gazing at the cow.
Then we turned slowly and looked at each other.

"This pathway of glorified maples ends in a cow," I
said, solemnly. At which we both shrieked with mirth,
leaning on the decrepit fence and mopping our eyes with
our handkerchiefs.

"Did I not say you were sixteen?" taunted Von
Gerhard. We were getting surprisingly well acquainted.

"Such a scolding as we shall get! It will be quite
dark before we are home. Norah will be tearing her
hair."

It was a true prophecy. As we stampeded up the steps