said, half aloud, "Howard."

The boy turned his face and smiled; "That ain't his name, Mister;
his name's Pete. Pete seen you yesterday over on Dewey, and Pete
he heard the big hills and the woods a singin' when you talked.
But Jed he didn't hear. Jed he don't hear nothin' but himself; he
can't. But Pete he heard and all Pete's people, too. And the gray
mist things come out and danced along the mountain, 'cause they
was so glad you come. And Pete went with you along the Old Trail.
Course, though, you didn't know. Do you like Pete's people,
Mister?" He waved his hands to include the forest, the mountains
and the sky; and there was a note of anxiety in the sweet voice as
he asked again: "Do you like Pete's friends?"

"Yes, indeed, I like your friends," replied Mr. Howitt, heartily;
"and I would like to be your friend too, if you will let me. What
is your other name?"

The boy shook his head; "Not me; not me;" he said; "do you like
Pete?"

The man was puzzled. "Are you not Pete?" he asked.

The delicate face grew sad: "No, no, no," he said in a low moaning
tone; "I'm not Pete; Pete, he lives in here;" he touched himself
on the breast. "I am--I am--" A look of hopeless bewilderment
crept into his eyes; "I don't know who I am; I'm jest nobody.
Nobody can't have no name, can he?" He stood with downcast head;
then suddenly he raised his face and the shadows lifted, as he
said, "But Pete he knows, Mister, ask Pete."