"Where are you going now?" she asked respectfully, patting William Thayer's back while his master caressed his ear.
"Oh, I don't know exactly. There's some nice woods back of the town; I think I'll look 'em through, and then go on to New Derby. I read in the paper about some kind of a firemen's parade there to-morrow, and if there's a lot of people, we'll earn something. We haven't made much lately, because William Thayer hurt his leg, and I've been sparing of him—haven't I, pup? But he's all right now."
He squeezed the dog's body and tickled him knowingly; the little fellow grinned widely and barked. Caroline sighed.
"It must be grand," she said wistfully, "to walk from one town to another, that way. Where do you sleep?"
"In barns, sometimes, and there's lots of covered wagons all around the farm-houses, outside the towns, you know. A church shed's as good a place as any. I don't like the towns as big as this, though; I like the country this time o' year."
Caroline nodded comprehendingly, breathing deep breaths of the fresh, earth-scented air.
"I wish there never were any houses in the world—nor any schools, either!" she cried.
He smiled. "I never was much for schools, myself," he said. "They don't smell good."
Caroline looked at him solemnly. She felt that the resolution of her life was taken. In one ecstatic flash she beheld her future.
"I shall never go to school again," she announced. "I shall—" A wave of joyous possibility broke over her, but modesty tied her tongue.