AND -- I see your papa driving up the street, and there
is the chief policeman's buggy just behind." Lily
acquiesced entirely in the extraordinary coincidence
of the father and the chief of police appearing upon
the scene. The unlikely seemed to her the likely.
"NOW," said she, cheerfully, "you will be put in
state prison and locked up, and then you will be put
to death by a very strong telephone."

Johnny's father was leaning out of his buggy, look-
ing back at the chief of police in his, and the mare
was jogging very slowly in a perfect reek of dust.
Lily, who was, in spite of her terrific imagination,
human and a girl, rose suddenly to heights of pity
and succor. "They shall never take you, Johnny
Trumbull," said she. "I will save you."

Johnny by this time was utterly forgetful of his
high status as champion (behind her back) of Ma-
dame's very select school for select children of a
somewhat select village. He was forgetful of the
fact that a champion never cries. He cried; he
blubbered; tears rolled over his dusty cheeks, mak-
ing furrows like plowshares of grief. He feared lest
he might have killed his aunt Janet. Women, and
not very young women, might presumably be un-
able to survive such rough usage as very tough
and at the same time very limber little boys, and
he loved his poor aunt Janet. He grieved because
of his aunt, his parents, his uncle, and rather more