"Now, are n't you Lonely O'Malley?" demanded the old lady suspiciously.
The boy nodded, wondering what was to come next. He was hoping, as sometimes had happened, that it might be a slice of bread and butter, with peach jam on it.
Miss Arabella looked at the basket, and sniffed aloud.
"You 're Lonely O'Malley, are you? Then you just get out of this orchard, as fast as them young legs can carry you!"
Lonely's jaw dropped in sheer astonishment.
"Travel now!" she cried, "or I 'll Lonely O'Malley you!"
And with a celerity quite unexpected in one of her years Miss Arabella reached in through the open door, and made after the fleeing Lonely with a broom.
Now, the less designing type of boy would have bolted for the gate. But Lonely had not accomplished his purpose; and having the utmost confidence in his dodging and sprinting ability, he made audacious tracks for the river, circling well in through the orchard and keeping a sharp look-out for one partic-
