"But they're real old country miles, I'm sorry to say." "Can we get to it to-night ?" The simple little question made the man's heart ache.

What wouldn't he give for an hour of Roger once more--or Belle--or Lightfoot! Anything--even one of the old plantation mules would do if he could only perch her up on its back and take her into Richmond like a lady and not like the daughter of poor white trash, tramping, poverty stricken, along a dusty road.
"No, dear, not to-night," he sighed.

"We've come a long way and we're both tired.

So when it gets dark we'll curl up somewhere in the nice, sweet woods and take a snooze, just like camping out.

And then--in the morning, when the old sun comes sneaking up through the trees, we'll fool him! We won't wait till he can make it hot, but we'll get right up with the birds and the squirrels and we'll just run right along.