"tose" in the evening to walk with him. How the Major had gotten such
possession of her, I think even her father and mother hardly knew, but
certain it was that she had become his personal property. They went
the rounds of the town stores every day, and took long walks from which
the little lady always came back tired and asleep in the arms of the
"Mady," as she called him. I suppose sometimes the Major had carried
her for miles, and he would mount the steps of the hotel veranda in
those sultry days, mopping his face wet from fatigue. And then he would
unload his pockets of all the shells and rocks and sticks and strings
that the little one had gathered in the waking part of her walk, and
put them away for her carefully. One day the usual load had a marked
variety in the shape of a large watermelon and three kittens. In
managing all of which the little lady was assisting by bringing one
kitten tail foremost under each arm. Much time was spent by the little
tyrant in directing the Major as to where each article of that
remarkable load was to go. If she had become, the Major's property,
I think I may say that the Major had also become her property. I think
that on rainy days from his vest to his heels, the Major's clothing
was marked with little muddy foot prints; that his hat was used as a
carryall for all manner of toys and sweetmeats; that his watch was
demanded at all hours of the day to see if it was "bekfus time" yet,
and that his cane served as an Arab steed for races around the porch
without limit. The "Mady" and all he had were the undisturbed possession
of the little one.

It was the close of the summer that, one morning, the little one did
not appear. She was sick of fever, they said. At breakfast, the Major
looked disturbed. But in a hotel we are not apt to think seriously of
the troubles of our neighbors, even if they are next door to us, and
few of us thought to ask about the baby. One night coming in late from