would not be at all likely to reach the farmhouse, until he should dash out in the field itself, and planting his small feet carefully.
"If he catches up to me," thought Gerald, "he will knock me over and get the watch and be off before I can help it! I must make the meadow!"
On hurtled Mr. Sip, floundering up the narrow path, still giving vent to exclamations that only quickened Gerald's flight. Suddenly Mr. Sip saw an opportunity for a short cut by which Gerald might yet be overtaken. He bounced into it. Just as Gerald shot forth into the long meadow the furious philosopher found himself hardly ten yards in arrear.
"Now I've got yer!" he called, too angry to observe that the farm-house was in sight. "You drop—that basket—an' that watch—or—" Now Gerald shouted lustily, still flying ahead.
But Mr. Sip did not finish. A new figure came into action.
"What under the canopy is that?" cried a boy who was so much older and larger than little Gerald that he might almost have been called a young man. He was standing by the well up in the Woodens's dooryard waiting for
