his slender hand. "I am delighted to see you back! How tanned you are, and how strong-looking!"
"It was the mountain air did it, Polly. By the way, is Horsehair around?" he continued, with a glance beyond the depot platform.
"Oh, yes! Here he comes now!" And as Polly spoke the big carryall of the school swung into view, with Jackson Lemond, commonly called "Horsehair," on the driver's seat. The boys made a rush for the carryall, throwing their suit-cases in the rack on top, and piling inside one over the other.
"Horsehair, you're looking fine!"
"How's the widow, Horsehair? Heard you were going to marry a widow with eight children."
"Nine children, Buster,—don't drop any of the family like that."
"Nothing like getting a ready-made family while you are at it, Horsehair."
"I heard the widow was a suffragette, Horsehair. Is that right?"
"If she's that, Horsehair, she'll make you mind the children and wash dishes—better beware!"
"Oh, don't worry about that. Horsehair is an expert at washing dishes, and at minding babies he once took first prize at a county fair; didn't you, Horsehair?"
"Say, you!" roared the carryall driver, his face
