"No, but we used to call her so, She's the best friend I've got, and I
don't know but the only one," said Paul, a little sadly.

"No, she isn't," said John, quickly; "I'll be your friend, Paul.
Sometime, perhaps, I shall go to New York, myself, and then I will come
and see you. Where do you expect to be?"

"I don't know anything about the city," said Paul, "but if you come, I
shall be sure to see you somewhere. I wish you were going now."

Neither Paul nor his companion had much idea of the extent of the great
metropolis, or they would not have taken it so much as a matter of
course that, being in the same place, they should meet each other.

Their conversation was interrupted by the ringing of a bell from a
farmhouse within sight.

"That's our breakfast-bell," said John rising from the grass. "It is
meant for me. I suppose they wonder what keeps me so long. Won't you
come and take breakfast with me, Paul?"

"I guess not," said Paul, who would have been glad to do so had he
followed the promptings of his appetite. "I'm afraid your folks would
ask me questions, and then it would be found out that I am running
away."

"I didn't think of that," returned John, after a pause. "You haven't got
any dinner with you?" he said a moment after.

"No."