"That mare," said the young man, reflectively, "is as smart as I be, and sometimes I think a thought smarter."
"You wouldn't beat that little dog," she said, holding up her bundle.
"Bet your striped shawl I wouldn't."
"I like you," she said, emphatically. "I guess you ain't as bad as you look."
The young man frowned slightly, and fell into another reverie.
[CHAPTER II.]
EVEN SHARKS HAVE TENDER HEARTS.
The old Moss Glen Inn, elm-shaded and half covered by creeping vines, is a favourite resort for travellers in the eastern part of Maine, for there a good dinner can be obtained in a shorter space of time than in any other country hotel in the length and breadth of the State.
"And all because there's a smart woman at the head of it," explained the young man to the little waif beside him. "There she is—always on hand."