"We'll suppose nothing of the kind," he interrupted, brusquely. "Tell
Becky to pack up her things. Leave Lloyd to me. I'll get her consent
without any trouble."

"Come, Colonel," he called, as he left the house. "I'm going to take you
a little ride."

No one ever knew what the kind old fellow said to her to induce her to
go to her grandfather's.

She came back from her ride looking brighter than she had in a long
time. She felt that in some way, although in what way she could not
understand, her going would help them to escape the dreaded poorhouse.

"Don't send Mom Beck with me," she pleaded, when the time came to start.
"You come with me, mothah."

Mrs. Sherman had not been past the gate for weeks, but she could not
refuse the coaxing hands that clung to hers.

It was a dull, dreary day. There was a chilling hint of snow in the damp
air. The leaves whirled past them with a mournful rustling.

Mrs. Sherman turned up the collar of Lloyd's cloak.

"You must have a new one soon," she said, with a sigh. "Maybe one of
mine could be made over for you. And those poor little shoes! I must
think to send to town for a new pair."

The walk was over so soon. The Little Colonel's heart beat fast as they