stirring the inhabitants to futile action. "It's like the 'clipse,"
said one of the squad of children collected at the gate, "only they
ain't no smoked glass." Some of the grown people "made an errand" for
the sake of being in the street, but those who lived near-by simply
mounted guard at their doors and windows. The horse had not waited long
when Miss Lucindy appeared before the gaze of an eager world. Her face
had wakened into a keen excitement.

"Here!" she called to the Crane boy's brother, who was lingering in the
background grinding his toes on the gravel and then lifting them in
sudden agony, "you take this kitchen chair and set it down side of him,
so't I can climb up."

The chair was placed, and Miss Lucindy essayed to climb, but vainly.

"Ann!" she called, "you bring me that little cricket."

Ann Toby appeared unwillingly, the little cricket in her hand. She was
a tall, red-haired woman, who bore the reputation of being willing to
be "tore into inch pieces" for Miss Lucindy. Her freckled face burned
red with shame and anger.

"For Heaven's sake, you come back into the house!" she whispered, with
tragic meaning. "You jest give it up, an' I'll scatter them boys. Sassy
little peeps! what are they starin' round here for, I'd like to know!"

But Lucindy had mounted the cricket with much agility, and seated
herself on the horse's back. Once she slipped off; but the Crane boy
had the address to mutter, "Put your leg over the horn!" and, owing to
that timely advice, she remained. But he was to experience the