nickname for a real one. A halfhearted effort was made to harness her
up to "Elizabeth," but she flatly declined to answer to the
appellation.

She and Noah Wicker, the son of a neighboring farmer, had run wild on
the big place, and it was Miss Lady who invariably got to the top of
the peach tree first, or dared to wade the farthest into the stream.
All through the summer days her little bare legs raced beside Noah's
sturdier brown ones. She could handle a fishing rod as well as her
father, could ride and drive and shoot, and was on terms of easy
friendship with every neighbor who passed over the brow of Billy-goat
Hill.

The matter of education had been the first serious break in this
idyllic existence. After romping through the country school, she had
had several young and pretty governesses, all of whom had succumbed to
the charms of neighboring country swains, and abandoned their young
charge, to start establishments of their own. Then came wise counsel
from without and after many tears she was sent to a boarding school in
the city.

The older teachers at Miss Gibbs' Select School for Young Ladies still
recall their trials during the one year Miss Lady was enrolled. She
was pretty, yes, and clever, and lovable, oh, yes! And at this point
usually followed a number of stories of her generosity and impulsive
kindness; "but," the conclusion always ran, "such a strange, wild
little creature, so intolerant of convention, in dress, in education,
in religion. Quite impossible in a young ladies' seminary."

After one term of imprisonment Miss Lady escaped to the outdoor world