Eudora flushed slightly, and, as if in response, the old man
flushed, also. "No, I thank you, Wilson," she said, and moved on.

The boy, who was raking dry leaves, stood gazing at them with a
shrewd, whimsical expression. He was the old man's grandson.

"Is that a boy or a girl kid, grandpa?" he inquired, when the
gardener returned.

"Hold your tongue!" replied the old man, irascibly. Suddenly he
seized the boy by his two thin little shoulders with knotted old
hands.

"Look at here, Tommy, whatever you know, you keep your mouth
shet, and whatever you don't know, you keep your mouth shet, if
you know what's good for you," he said, in a fierce whisper.

The boy whistled and shrugged his shoulders loose. "You know I
ain't goin' to tell tales, grandpa," he said, in a curiously
manly fashion.

The old man nodded. "All right, Tommy. I don't believe you be,
nuther, but you may jest as well git it through your head what's
goin' to happen if you do."

"Ain't goin' to," returned the boy. He whistled charmingly as he
raked the leaves. His whistle sounded like the carol of a bird.

Eudora pushed the carriage around to the side door, and
immediately there was a fluttering rush of a slender woman clad