“Well, you cut her head off,” said Jane.
“But you told her to,” cried Lottie, taking up her twin’s cause.
“Well, you asked me to play with you, didn’t you?” But Minie’s tears went to Jane’s heart. “I’m sorry, Minie, darling. Please don’t cry. I’ll tell you a story if you like.”
Minie’s chubby, tearful face brightened.
“A fairy story?”
“Yes. About a prince and princess.”
“And you won’t have it end up badly?”
“No. I promise.” So Jane, whose mind was a perfect storehouse of stories and legends, had soon charmed the twins into forgetfulness of their late bereavement while she launched forth upon her tale of giants and enchanted princes.
————
On this very afternoon, and in fact, at exactly the time that Jane had staged her disastrous amusement, a boy was tramping stolidly with his head bent against the rain, along one of the country roads a good three miles from Frederickstown. He was a big, raw-boned boy, whose shabby clothes originally much too loose for his lean frame, and now soaked through, gave him an almost grotesque appearance. A faded dark blue cap, with a patent leather visor, such as sea-captains wear, and the upturned collar of his coat, almost concealed his long brown face, in which the most striking features were a pair of black eyes, set rather close together, and a big handsome Roman nose. With a bundle slung over his shoulder on the end of a stick, he looked like any one of the foreign immigrants who were frequently seen seeking for work as laborers on the neighboring farms.