sorely missed.

"Gramma Deebun do it?" suggested Robin quickly.

"No: Grandma Dearborn has the rheumatism. She couldn't walk
up-stairs."

"She got ze wizzim-tizzim," echoed Robin solemnly. Then his face
lighted up with a happy thought. "Nev' mind; Robin'll put Big Brother
to bed _all_ ze nights when he's a man." And Big Brother kissed the
sweet mouth and was comforted.

During the summer Mr. Dearborn drove to town with fresh marketing
every morning, starting early in order to get home by noon. Saturdays
he took Steven with him, for that was the day he supplied his butter
customers.

The first time the boy made the trip he carried Mrs. Estel's address
in his pocket, which he had carefully copied from the fly-leaf of the
book she had given him. Although he had not the remotest expectation
of seeing her, there was a sense of companionship in the mere thought
that she was in the same town with him.

He watched the lamp-posts carefully as they went along, spelling out
the names of the streets. All of a sudden his heart gave a bound. They
had turned a corner and were driving along Fourth Avenue. He took the
slip of paper from his pocket. Yes, he was right. That was the name of
the street. Then he began to watch for the numbers. 200, 300, 400;
they passed on several more blocks. Mr. Dearborn drove up to the
pavement and handed him the reins to hold, while he took the crock of