little wagon, pulled by the old colored woman, Bob's wife, in her best,
and there, propped upon pillows, lay Hamilton Swift, Junior, his soul
shining rapture out of his great eyes, a bright spot of color on each of
his thin cheeks. He lifted himself on one elbow, and for an instant
something seemed to be wrong with the brace under his chin.

Beasley sprang to him and adjusted it tenderly. Then he bowed
elaborately toward the mantel-piece.

"Mrs. Hunchberg," he said, "may I have the honor?" And offered his arm.

"And I must have MISTER Hunchberg," chirped Hamilton. "He must walk with
me."

"He tells ME," said Beasley, "he'll be mighty glad to. And there's a
plate of bones for Simpledoria."

"You lead the way," cried the child; "you and Mrs. Hunchberg."

"Are we all in line?" Beasley glanced back over his shoulder. "HOO-ray!
Now, let us on. Ho! there!"

"BR-R-RA-vo!" applauded Mister Swift.

And Beasley, his head thrown back and his chest out, proudly led the
way, stepping nobly and in time to the exhilarating measures. Hamilton
Swift, Junior, towed by the beaming old mammy, followed in his wagon,
his thin little arm uplifted and his fingers curled as if they held a
trusted hand.