comb. Her skin was of the most delicate pink color, flushing to rosy
bloom in her cheeks. She was a long, rather than a tall girl, with
slim fingers and slim feet, and any excitement tingled over her
visibly, so that aunt Corinne was frequently all of a quiver about
the most trivial circumstances. She had a deep dimple in her chin and
another at the right side of her mouth, and her nose tipped just
enough to give all the lines of her face a laughing look.

But this laughing look ran ludicrously into consternation when,
twisting away from the prospect ahead, she happened to look suddenly
backward under the looped-up curtain, and saw a head dodging down.
Somebody was hanging to the rear of the carriage.

Aunt Corinne kneeled on the cushion and stretched her neck and eyes
out over a queer little old man, who seemed to carry a bunch of some
kind on his back. He had been running noiselessly behind the
carriage, occasionally hanging by his arms, and he was taking one of
these swings when his dodging eyes met hers, and he let go, rolling
in the 'pike dust.

"You _better_ let go!" scolded aunt Corinne. "Bob'day, there's
a beggar been hangin' on! Ma Padgett, a little old man with a bag on
his back was goin' to climb into this carriage!"

[Illustration: A QUEER LITTLE OLD MAN.]

"Tisn't a bag," said Bobaday laughing, for the little old man looked
funny brushing the dust off his ragged knees.

"_'Tis_ a bag," said aunt Corinne, "and he ought to hurt himself