rosial　odours　from　the　kitchen。　In　all　my　life　I　never　enjoyed　a　moment　more　than　that；　I　think。
  〃Come　in　now；〃　said　the　motherly　Mrs。　Stanley。
  So　we　filed　into　the　roomy　kitchen；　where　an　older　girl；　called　Kate；　was　flying　about　placing　steaming　dishes　upon　the　table。　There　was　also　an　older　son；　who　had　been　at　the　farm　chores。　It　was　altogether　a　fine；　vigorous；　independent　American　family。　So　we　all　sat　down　and　drew　up　our　chairs。　Then　we　paused　a　moment；　and　the　father；　bowing　his　head；　said　in　a　low　voice：
  〃For　all　Thy　good　gifts；　Lord；　we　thank　Thee。　Preserve　us　and　keep　us　through　another　night。〃
  I　suppose　it　was　a　very　ordinary　farm　meal；　but　it　seems　to　me　I　never　tasted　a　better　one。　The　huge　piles　of　new　baked　bread；　the　sweet　farm　butter；　already　delicious　with　the　flavour　of　new　grass；　the　bacon　and　eggs；　the　potatoes；　the　rhubarb　sauce；　the　great　plates　of　new；　hot　gingerbread　and；　at　the　last；　the　custard　piea　great　wedge　of　it；　with　fresh　cheese。　After　the　first　ravenous　appetite　of　hardworking　men　was　satisfied；　there　came　to　be　a　good　deal　of　lively　conversation。　The　girls　had　some　joke　between　them　which　Ben　was　trying　in　vain　to　fathom。　The　older　son　told　how　much　milk　a　certain　Alderney　cow　had　given；　and　Mr。　Stanley；　quite　changed　now　as　he　sat　at　his　own　table　from　the　rather　grim　farmer　of　the　afternoon；　revealed　a　capacity　for　a　husky　sort　of　fun；　joking　Ben　about　his　potato…planting　and　telling　in　a　lively　way　of　his　race　with　me。　As　for　Mrs。　Stanley；　she　sat　smiling　behind　her　tall　coffee　pot；　radiating　good　cheer　and　hospitality。　They　asked　me　no　questions　at　all；　and　I　was　so　hungry　and　tired　that　I　volunteered　no　information。
  After　supper　we　went　out　for　half　or　three　quarters　of　an　hour　to　do　some　final　chores；　and　Mr。　Stanley　and　I　stopped　in　the　cattle　yard　and　looked　over　the　cows；　and　talked　learnedly　about　the　pigs；　and　I　admired　his　spring　calves　to　his　hearts　content；　for　they　really　were　a　fine　lot。　When　we　came　in　again　the　lamps　had　been　lighted　in　the　sitting…room　and　the　older　daughter　was　at　the　telephone　exchanging　the　news　of　the　day　with　some　neighbourand　with　great　laughter　and　enjoyment。　Occasionally　she　would　turn　and　repeat　some　bit　of　gossip　to　the　family；　and　Mrs。　Stanley　would　claim：
  〃Do　tell！〃
  〃Can't　we　have　a　bit　of　music　to…night？〃　inquired　Mr。　Stanley。
  Instantly　Ben　and　the　slim　girl；　Mary；　made　a　wild　dive　for　the　front　roomthe　parlourand　came　out　with　a　first…rate　phonograph　which　they　placed　on　the　table。
  〃Something　lively　now；〃　said　Mr。　Stanley。
  So　they　put　on　a　rollicking　negro　song　called。　〃My　Georgia　Belle；〃　which；　besides　the　tuneful　voices；　introduced　a　steamboat　whistle　and　a　musical　clangour　of　bells。　When　it　wound　up　with　a　bang；　Mr。　Stanley　took　his　big　comfortable　pipe　out　of　his　mouth　and　cried　out：
  〃Fine；　fine！〃
  We　had　further　music　of　the　same　sort　and　with　one　record　the　older　daughter；　Kate；　broke　into　the　song　with　a　full；　strong　though　uncultivated　voicewhich　pleased　us　all　very　much　indeed。
  Presently　Mrs。　Stanley；　who　was　sitting　under　the　lamp　with　a　basket　of　socks　to　mend；　began　to　nod。
  〃Mother's　giving　the　signal；〃　said　the　older　son。
  〃No；　no；　I'm　not　a　bit　sleepy；〃　exclaimed　Mrs。　Stanley。
  But　with　further　joking　and　laughing　the　family　began　to　move　about。　The　older　daughter　gave　me　a　hand　lamp　and　showed　me　the　way　upstairs　to　a　little　room　at　the　end　of　the　house。
  〃I　think；〃　she　said　with　pleasant　dignity；　〃you　will　find　everything　you　need。〃
  I　cannot　tell　with　what　solid　pleasure　I　rolled　into　bed　or　how　soundly　and　sweetly　I　slept。
  This　was　the　first　day　of　my　real　adventures。
  CHAPTER　II。　　I　WHISTLE
  When　I　was　a　boy　I　learned　after　many　discouragements　to　play　on　a　tin　whistle。　There　was　a　wandering　old　fellow　in　our　town　who　would　sit　for　hours　on　the　shady　side　of　a　certain　ancient　hotel…barn；　and　with　his　little　whistle　to　his　lips；　and　gently　swaying　his　head　to　his　tune　and　tapping　one　foot　in　the　gravel；　he　would　produce　the　most　wonderful　and　beguiling　melodies。　His　favourite　selections　were　very　lively；　he　played；　I　remember；　〃Old　Dan　Tucker；〃　and　〃Money　Musk；〃　and　the　tune　of　a　rollicking　old　song；　now　no　doubt　long　forgotten；　called　〃Wait　for　the　Wagon。〃　I　can　see　him　yet；　with　his　jolly　eyes　half　closed；　his　lips　puckered　around　the　whistle；　and　his　fingers　curiously　and　stiffly　poised　over　the　stops。　I　am　sure　I　shall　never　forget　the　thrill　which　his　music　gave　to　the　heart　of　a　certain　barefoot　boy。
  At　length；　by　means　I　have　long　since　forgotten；　I　secured　a　tin　whistle　exactly　like　Old　Tom　Madison's　and　began　diligently　to　practise　such　tunes　as　I　knew。　I　am　quite　sure　now　that　I　must　have　made　a　nuisance　of　myself；　for　it　soon　appeared　to　be　the　set　purpose　of　every　member　of　the　family　to　break　up　my　efforts。　Whenever　my　father　saw　me　with　the　whistle　to　my　lips；　he　would　instantly　set　me　at　some　useful　work　（oh；　he　was　an　adept　in　discovering　useful　work　to　dofor　a　boy！）。　And　at　the　very　sight　of　my　stern　aunt　I　would　instantly　secrete　my　whistle　in　my　blouse　and　fly　for　the　garret　or　cellar；　like　a　cat　caught　in　the　cream。　Such　are　the　early　tribulations　of　musical　genius！
  At　last　I　discovered　a　remote　spot　on　a　beam　in　the　hay…barn　where；　lighted　by　a　ray　of　sunlight　which　came　through　a　crack　in　the　eaves　and　pointed　a　dusty　golden　finger　into　that　hay…scented　interior；　I　practised　rapturously　and　to　my　heart's　content　upon　my　tin　whistle。　I　learned　〃Money　Musk〃　until　I　could　play　it　in　Old　Tom　Madison's　best　styleeven　to　the　last　nod　and　final　foot…tap。　I　turned　a　certain　church　hymn　called　〃Yield　Not　to　Temptation〃　into　something　quite　inspiriting；　and　I　played　〃Marching　Through　Georgia〃　until　all　the　〃happy　hills　of　hay〃　were　to　the　fervid　eye　of　a　boy's　imagination　full　of　tramping　soldiers。　Oh；　I　shall　never　forget　the　joys　of　those　hours　in　the　hay…barn；　nor　the　music　of　that　secret　tin　whistle！　I　can　hear　yet　the　crooning　of　the　pigeons　in　the　eaves；　and　the　slatey　sound　of　their　wings　as　they　flew　across　the　open　spaces　in　the　great　barn；　I　can　smell　yet　the　odour　of　the　hay。
  But　with　years；　and　the　city；　and　the　shame　of　youth；　I　put　aside　and　almost　forgot　the　art　of　whistling。　When　I　was　preparing　for　the　present　pilgrimage；　however；　it　came　to　me　with　a　sudden　thrill　of　pleasure　that　nothing　in　the　wide　world　now　prevented　me　from　getting　a　whistle　and　seeing　whether　I　had　forgotten　my　early　cunning。　At　the　very　first　good…sized　town　I　came　to　I　was　delighted　to　find　at　a　little　candy　and　toy　shop　just　the　sort　of　whistle　I　wanted；　at　the　extravagant　price　of　ten　cents。　I　bought　it　and　put　it　in　the　bottom　of　my　knapsack。
  〃Am　I　not　old　enough　now；〃　I　said　to　myself；　〃to　be　as　youthful　as　I　choose？〃
  Isn't　it　the　strangest　thing　in　the　world　how　long　it　takes　us　to　learn　to　accept　the　joys　of　simple　pleasures？and　some　of　us　never　learn　at　all。　〃Boo！〃　says　the　neighbourhood；　and　we　are　instantly　frightened　into　doing　a　thousand　unnecessary　and　unpleasant　things；　or　prevented　from　doing　a　thousand　beguiling　things。
  For　the　first　few　days　I　was　on　the　road　I　thought　often　with　pleasure　of　the　whistle　lying　there　in　my　bag；　but　it　was　not　until　after　I　left　the　Stanleys'　that　I　felt　exactly　in　the　mood　to　try　it。
  The　fact　is；　my　adventures　on　the　Stanley　farm　had　left　me　in　a　very　cheerful　frame　of　mind。　They　convinced　me　that　some　of　the　great　things　I　had　expected　of　my　pilgrimage　were　realizable　possibilities。　Why；　I　had　walked　right　into　the　heart　of　as　fine　a　family　as　I　have　seen　these　many　days。
  I　remained　with　them　the　entire　day　following　the　potato…planting。　We　were　out　at　five　o'clock　in　the　morning；　and　after　helping　with　the　chores；　and　eating　a　prodigious　breakfast；　we　went　again　to　the　potato…field；　and　part　of　the　time　I　helped　plant　a　few　remaining　rows；　and　part　of　the　time　I　drove　a　team　attached　to　a　wing…plow　to　cover　the　planting　of　the　previous　day。
  In　the　afternoon　a　slashing　spring　rain　set　in；　and　Mr。　Stanley；　who　was　a　forehanded　worker；　found　a　job　for　all　of　us　in　the　barn。　Ben；　the　younger　son；　and　I　sharpened　mower…blades　and　a　scythe　or　so；　Ben　turning　the　grindstone　and　I　holding　the　blades　and　telling　him　stories　into　the　bargain。　Mr。　Stanley　and　his　stout　older　son　overhauled　the　work…harness　and　tinkered　the　corn…planter。　The　doors　at　both　ends　of　the　barn　stood　wide　open；　and　through　one　of　them；　framed　like　a　picture；　we　could　see　the　scudding　floods　descend　upon　the　meadows；　and　through　the　other；　across　a　fine　stretch　of　open　country；　we　could　see　all　the　roads　glistening　and　the　treetops　moving　under　the　rain。
  〃Fine；　fine！〃　exclaimed　Mr。　Stanley；　looking　out　from　time　to　time；　〃we　got　in　our　potatoes　just　in　the　nick　of　time。〃
  After　supper　that　evening　I　told　them　of　my　plan　to　leave　them　on　the　following　morning。
  〃Don't　do　that；〃　said　Mrs。　Stanley　heartily；　〃stay　on　with　us。〃
  〃Yes；〃　said　Mr。　Stanley；　〃we're　shorthanded；　and　I'd　be　glad　to　have　a　man　like　you　all　summer。　There　ain't　any　one　around　here　will　pay　a　good　man　more'n　I　will；　nor　treat　'im　better。〃
  〃I'm　sure　of　it；　Mr。　Stanley；〃　I　said；　〃but　I　can't　stay　with　you。〃
  At　that　the　tide　of　curiosity　which　I　had　see