The first freshness had not been worn from Jim's new suit before we all went to a picnic on the banks of the little mountain river that flowed through the town. Jim was told to keep a sharp lookout on the younger children, who were fishing from the bank in shallow water. One of the little girls was a fidgety specimen of humanity, for she could never sit still two minutes at a time. Before she had been fishing ten minutes she fell into the river. The water was very shallow, but the current was swift, and there was surely enough water to drown little Margaret Prettyman, with a-plenty to spare. But Jim Dandy was there, and the child had hardly touched the water before he was in after her and had her in his arms. Not many seconds more had passed before Mrs. Prettyman had the very wet and much-frightened Margaret in her arms, and was weeping over that rescued infant.
Jim Dandy's smartness was again dimmed, and he was a sorry and bedraggled looking darky. Mr. Prettyman looked his "buttons" over carefully, and Jim was evidently embarrassed by the gaze.
"Well, James," his master said, "you are rightly named, for you are a Jim Dandy—every inch a Jim Dandy."
This is what the country boy did to justify his name during the two weeks that I staid at Mr. Prettyman's. It may be that he has gone on and on from adventure to adventure, so that when I hear about them I will have to send the record of them to Mr. Kirk Munroe, so that he may have a biographer worthy of a daring career. When I left I gave some money to little Margaret, to be divided among the servants. She came to the gate just as I was going to the carriage, and said, "Aunt Mandy's obliged, and Hannah's obliged, and Jim Dandy's obliged,' but Jim Dandy's obliged the most, 'cause he stood on his head."
THE MIDDLE DAUGHTER.[1]
BY MARGARET E. SANGSTER.
CHAPTER IV.
TWO LITTLE SCHOOLMARMS.
"And so you are your papa's good fairy? How happy you must be! How proud!" Amy's eyes shone as she talked to Grace, and smoothed down a fold of the pretty white alpaca gown which set off her friend's dainty beauty. The girls were in my mother's room at the Manse, and Mrs. Raeburn had left them together to talk over plans, while she went to the parlor to entertain a visitor who was engaged in getting up an autumn fête for a charitable purpose. Nothing of this kind was ever done without mother's aid.