Jerome pulled himself away from her nervous clutch, and collected
himself for flight. "He was goin' to carry that wood to Doctor
Prescott's," said he, reflectively. "Ain't any sense goin' to the
ten-acre lot till I see if he's been there."

"It's on the way," cried Elmira, frantically. "Hurry up! Oh, do hurry
up, Jerome! Poor father! Mother says he's--fell--down--" Elmira
crooked her little arm around her face and broke into a long wail as
she started down the hill. "Poor--father--oh--oh--poor--father!"
floated back like a wake of pitiful sound.




Chapter II


Jerome started, and once started he raced. Long-legged,
light-flanked, long-winded, and underfed, he had the adaptability for
speed of a little race-horse. Jerome Edwards was quite a famous boy
in the village for his prowess in running. No other boy could equal
him. Marvellous stories were told about it. "Jerome Edwards, he can
run half a mile in five minutes any day, yes he can, sir," the
village boys bragged if perchance a cousin from another town came
a-visiting and endeavored to extol himself and his comrades beyond
theirs. In some curious fashion Jerome, after he had out-speeded all
the other boys, furnished them with his own victories for a boast.
They seemed, in exulting over the glory of this boy of their village,
to forget that the glory came only through their defeat. It was
national pride on a very small and childish scale.