Dorothy looked him over. Yes, he was shaggy, all right, but there was
a twinkle in his eye that seemed pleasant.

"Oh yes," she replied; "I can tell you. But it isn't this road at all."

"No?"

"You cross the ten-acre lot, follow the lane to the highway, go north
to the five branches, and take--let me see--"

"To be sure, miss; see as far as Butterfield, if you like," said the
shaggy man.

"You take the branch next the willow stump, I b'lieve; or else the
branch by the gopher holes; or else--"

"Won't any of 'em do, miss?"

"'Course not, Shaggy Man. You must take the right road to get
to Butterfield."

"And is that the one by the gopher stump, or--"

"Dear me!" cried Dorothy. "I shall have to show you the way, you're
so stupid. Wait a minute till I run in the house and get my sunbonnet."

The shaggy man waited. He had an oat-straw in his mouth, which he
chewed slowly as if it tasted good; but it didn't. There was an
apple-tree beside the house, and some apples had fallen to the ground.