a chance; and then it wouldn't be what you call 'charity' at all."
The old man sat back on the log and looked at Marjorie, curiously. "You are a strange little girl," he said.
"And will you take it?" asked Marjorie, eagerly, holding out the gold piece.
"Yes," he said, very gravely, "I will take it as a loan, and I will pay a part of the debt every day of my life. I thank you for a great deal more than the gold piece, little one."
Marjorie patted the wrinkled hand. "Good-by," she said. "The stage will be along in a little while, and you had better rest here until it comes," and she kissed her hand to him as she ran to join the Dream.
Looking back a few minutes later, she saw the old man bend down from his seat and take up a little stray kitten and begin to feed it from a paper parcel that he carried, and she smiled softly to herself; and some time later, when the crowded stage-coach passed them, and the old man leaned out to wave his hand, she saw that on his knees he held a child whose tired little head rested against his shoulder.
