Mrs. Atterson's maid.

Behind her, and driving her like a horse by the ever present
"pigtails," bounded a boy of about her own age--a laughing,
yelling imp of a boy whom Hiram knew very well.

"That Dan Dwight is the meanest little scamp at this end of the
town!" he said to himself.

The noise the two made attracted only the idle curiosity of a few
people. It was a locality where, even on Sundays, there was more
or less noise.

Sister begged and screamed. She feared she would spill the milk
and told Dan, Junior, so. But he only drove her the harder,
yelling to her to "Get up!" and yanking as hard as he could on
the braids.

"Here! that's enough of that!" called Hiram, stepping quickly
toward the two.

For Sister had stopped exhausted, and in tears.

"Be off with you!" commanded Hiram. "You've plagued the girl
enough."

"Mind your business, Hi-ram-Lo-ram!" returned Dan, Junior,
grabbing at Sister's hair again.

Hiram caught the younger boy by the shoulder and whirled him