stow away butter and eggs in the spring-wagon from the Ossokosee House. "Mr. Philip Touchtone is a particular pet of Miss Beauchamp's and mine when he is a good boy—as he almost always is," the farmer's fat wife lightly added.
"And a capital friend," added the grave Miss Beauchamp, with a smile, "for a boy about the age and size of one I know to have on his books. You ask Mr. Marcy over at the hotel all about him, Gerald. Now, you do that for me soon."
"O, pshaw, Miss Beauchamp!" Philip interrupted, his wide-awake face rather red, and straightening himself up to endure these broad compliments, "you and Mrs. Wooden ought to remember that people who praise friends to their faces are said to be fond of slandering them behind their backs. Come, Mr. Wooden, I promised Mr. Marcy to be back as soon as I could. Jump in, Gerald."
The boy swung his slender figure up to the cushioned seat. Philip quickly followed after a few more words with the farmer. Then the wagon rattled out into the road and was soon bowling along to the Ossokosee. Philip fa-
