brought him up from a lone and forsaken child, relied upon all the
good qualities she discovered from time to time, and she saw nothing
ludicrous in Zene. But aunt Corinne and Bobaday never ceased to
titter at Zene's "marm."

"I've been inquirin' along, and we can turn off of the 'pike up here
at the first by-road, and then take the first cross-road west, and
save thirty mile o' toll gates. The road goes the same direction.
It's a good dirt road."

Grandma Padgett puckered the brows above her glasses. She did not
want to pay unnecessary bounty to the toll-gate keepers.

"Well, that's a good plan, Zene, if you're sure we won't lose the
way, or fall into any dif-fick-ulty."

"I've asked nigh a dozen men, and they all tell the same tale," said
Zene.

"People ought to know the lay of the land in their own neighborhood,"
admitted Grandma Padgett. "Well, we'll try what virtue there is in the
dirt road."

So she clucked to the carriage horses and Zene went back to his
charge.

The last toll-gate they would see for thirty miles drew its pole
down before them. Zene paid according to the usual arrangement, and
the toll-man only stood in the door to see the carriage pass.