away, in being alive and hearty.

The small boy entered into the conversation with great spirit, to
tell that a certain hen which he owned had yesterday come off her
nest with fourteen of the spryest deedies that ever stepped. One in
especial had so won upon Rufe by its beauty and grace of deportment
that he was carrying it about with him, feeding it at close
intervals, and housing it in the security of his pocket.

The deedie hardly made a moan. There was no use in remonstrating
with Rufe,--everything that came within his eccentric orbit seemed
to realize that,--and the deedie was contentedly nestling down in
his pocket, apparently resigned to lead the life of a portemonnaie.

Rufe narrated with pardonable pride the fact that, some time before,
his great-uncle, Rufus Dicey, had sent to him from the "valley
kentry" a present of a pair of game chickens, and that this deedie
was from the first egg hatched in the game hen's brood.

But Rufe was not selfish. He offered to give Tim one of the chicks.
Now poultry was Tim's weakness. He accepted with more haste than
was seemly, and at once asked for the deedie in the small boy's
pocket. Rufe, however, refused to part from the chick of his
adoption, and presently Tim, with the gun on his shoulder, left the
tanyard in company with Rufe, to look over the brood of game chicks,
and make a selection from among them.

Birt hardly noticed what they did or said. Every faculty was
absorbed in considering the wily game which his false friend had
played so successfully. It was all plain enough now. The fruit of