the rear, had to pass the group of loafers in front of the Post
Office. The loafers called out rude, bantering comments, and Missy
burned with shame.

Then Arthur Simpson appeared in Pieker's doorway next door and
grinned.

"Hello! Some steed!" he greeted Tess. "Dare you to ride her in!"

"Not to-day, thanks," retorted Tess insouciantly--that was another
quality Missy envied in her friend, her unfailing insouciance. "Wait
till I get my new pony next week, and then I'll take you up!"

"All right. The dare holds good." Then Arthur turned his grin to
Missy. "What's the matter with YOU? Charger get out of hand?"

The loafers in front of the Post Office took time from their chewing
and spitting to guffaw. Missy could have died of mortification.

"Want a lift?" asked Arthur, moving forward.

Missy shook her head. She longed to retrieve herself in the public
gaze, longed to shine as Tess shone, but not for worlds could she
have essayed that high, dizzy seat again. So she shook her head
dumbly and Arthur grinned at her not unkindly. Missy liked Arthur
Simpson. He wore a big blue-denim apron and had red hair and
freckles--not a romantic figure by any means; but there was a
mischievous imp in his eye and a rollicking lilt in his voice that
made you like him, anyway. Missy wished he hadn't been a witness to
her predicament. Not that she felt at all sentimental toward Arthur.