"She did, eh? Ho, ho! And I suppose she wished that I was crazy enough to be sent to the 'sylum. That's a good one, and I must go and tell Whyn."
Miss Arabella had almost reached her house when she met Rod walking slowly along, with his eyes fixed upon the ground. He was thinking deeply, and wondering how he was to earn the money to buy his scout suit. So far he could see no way out of his difficulty. He knew that if he spoke to Parson Dan and Mrs. Royal they would gladly give him the money. But he must earn it himself, for that was the scout rule.
"Well, what are you after now?" was Miss Arabella's sharp greeting.
"Grandmother sent me after the basket," Rod explained. "I couldn't get into the house, and so I thought maybe you were dead."
"Do I look like a dead person?" the woman asked, while a grim smile lurked about the corners of her mouth.
"No, not now, Miss Arabella. But yesterday you looked as if you might die at any moment."
"Well, yesterday is not to-day," she snapped. "I'm much better, so if you'll come back, I'll give you the basket you left here."
When they had reached the house and entered the kitchen, Miss Arabella, instead of getting the basket, sat down upon a splint-bottom chair, and began to take off her wraps. Rod stood in the middle of the room and watched her without saying a word. When the hat and shawl had been removed and laid carefully upon the table, the woman turned to the boy.
"You told me yesterday," she began, "that you are a scout. Is that so?"
"Yes, Miss Arabella."