he was too cut and dried, "bromidic," she classified him, for Derry had
carefully explained the etymology of the word. Milt was honest, but
selfish and "near." Bobby was disposed to be fresh, but Gus was just
such a boy as Amarilly herself would have been, reincarnated. He was
practical, industrious, thrifty, and shrewd, and yet possessed of the
imagination and optimism of his sister. She called him aside one day for
a private consultation.

"Say, Gus, your scheme's all right. Go ahead and get your cow. I'll let
you have my savings, and the other boys needn't know. You can pay me
when you get ready to."

"That's bully in you, Amarilly, but I'm agoin' to see this thing through
alone and start in without no help front no one," firmly refused Gus,
and his sturdy little sister could but admire him for his independence.

He locked up his new possession very carefully, putting the key in his
pocket every morning before going to the business precincts to pick up a
job. The children, however, were not dispossessed by this precaution,
finding ingress and egress through the window. Gus most opportunely
secured a week's job driving a delivery-wagon, and he instantly invested
his wages in the provisioning of the cow quarters.

"The feed'll git stale by the time the cow comes," objected Milt.

"Mebby it's fer bait to ketch a critter with," offered Bobby.

After all, it was the miracle predicted by Mrs. Jenkins that came to
pass and delivered the cow. Early one morning, when Gus went as usual
with fond pride to view his sole asset, he found installed therein a