"DE HINE FOOT ER A HE FRAWG"


Toward the close of an early summer afternoon, a little girl came running
along the turnpike to where a boy stood wriggling his feet in the dust.

"Old Aunt Ailsey's done come back," she panted, "an' she's conjured the
tails off Sambo's sheep. I saw 'em hanging on her door!"

The boy received the news with an indifference from which it blankly
rebounded. He buried one bare foot in the soft white sand and withdrew it
with a jerk that powdered the blackberry vines beside the way.

"Where's Virginia?" he asked shortly.

The little girl sat down in the tall grass by the roadside and shook her
red curls from her eyes. She gave a breathless gasp and began fanning
herself with the flap of her white sunbonnet. A fine moisture shone on her
bare neck and arms above her frock of sprigged chintz calico.

"She can't run a bit," she declared warmly, peering into the distance of
the long white turnpike. "I'm a long ways ahead of her, and I gave her the
start. Zeke's with her."

With a grunt the boy promptly descended from his heavy dignity.

"You can't run," he retorted. "I'd like to see a girl run, anyway." He
straightened his legs and thrust his hands into his breeches pockets. "You
can't run," he repeated.