"South Riveredge!" echoed a lad who walked at the other side of the phaeton. "Why it's nearly four miles from here. It's almost two to Riveredge itself. What brought you out this way if you were going to South Riveredge?"

But to explain just why she had turned off the direct road to South Riveredge would be a trifle embarra.s.sing, so Jean decided to give another reason:

"I thought I knew my way but I guess I must have missed it, those boys tormented me so."

"I guess you did miss it, but I don't wonder. Well, rest here a little while, and then we'll start you safely back. Guess one of us better go along with her hadn't we, Ned?" he asked of the gray-eyed boy.

"If we want her to get back whole I guess we had," was the laughing answer, as Baltie's guide led him up to a carriage step and stopped.

Baltie's coat was steaming. "Got a blanket? Better let me put it on your horse. He's pretty warm from his race and the day is snappy."

Jean bounded up from the seat and pulled the blanket from it. It was not a very heavy blanket and when the boy had put it carefully upon the old horse, it seemed hardly thick enough to protect him. "Let me have the rug too," he ordered, and without a second's thought jerked up the rug and gave it a toss. Up came the box of candy with it, to balance a second upon one end as daintily as a tight-rope dancer balances upon a rope, then keel gracefully over and land bottom-side-up, upon the tan-bark of the driveway, the packages of candy flying in twenty different directions.

Jean's cry of dismay was echoed by the boys' shouts as their eyes quickly grasped the significance of those dainty white parcels. A wild scramble to rescue her wares followed, as Jean was plied with questions.

"Are they yours? What are you going to do with them?" "Are they for sale?" "Can we buy some?" "How much are they?" "Lend me some cash, Bob?"

Never was an enterprising merchant so suddenly plunged into a rushing business. Jean's head whirled for a moment. How much were the packages of candy? She hadn't the vaguest idea, and circ.u.mstances had not made it convenient to ascertain before she set forth. However, her wits came to her rescue and she recalled the little packages which Constance had made for the fair, and which had sold for ten cents each. So ten cents _she_ would charge, and presently was doling out her rescued packages of fudge and dropping dimes into her box to take the place of the packages which were so quickly disappearing from it.

Given four dozen packages of exceptionally delicious home-made candy, and twenty or thirty boys, after an hour's foot-ball exercise, upon a crisp January morning, each more or less supplied with pocket money, and it is a combination pretty sure to work to the advantage of the candy-maker.

Jean's eyes danced, and her face was radiant. Her business was in its most flourishing stage when she became aware that another actor had appeared upon the scene, and was regarding her steadily through a pair of very large, very round, and very thick-lensed eye-gla.s.ses, and with the solemn expression of a meditative owl. How long he had been a silent observer of her financial operations Jean had no idea. His presence did not appear to embarra.s.s the boys in any way; indeed, when they became aware of it two or three of them promptly urged him to partake of their toothsome dainties. This he did in the same grave, absorbed manner.

"Great, aint they, Professor?" asked one lad.

"Quite unusual. Who is the juvenile vender?" he asked.

"We don't know. She was out yonder in the road with half McKim's Hollow after her when we fellows rallied to the rescue. She was as plucky as any thing, and was putting up a great standoff when we got in our licks."

"Ah! Indeed! And how came she to have such a feast along with her.

I'll take another, thank you, Ned. They are really excellent," and instead of "another" the last three of "Ned's" package were calmly appropriated and eaten in the same abstracted manner that the other pieces had been. Ned looked somewhat blank and turning toward one of his companions, winked and smiled slyly, then said to the Professor:

"Better buy some quick. They are going like hot cakes."

CHAPTER XIV

The Candy Enterprise Grows

"I believe I shall," and drawing closer to the phaeton the Professor peered more closely at its occupant as he said:

"I say, little girl, I think I'll take all you have there. They are exceedingly palatable. And I would really like to know how it happens that a child apparently so respectable as yourself should be peddling sweets. You--why you might really be a gentleman's daughter," he drawled.

Now it had never for a moment occurred to Jean that appearances might prove misleading to those whose powers of observation were not of the keenest, or that a much disheveled child driving about the country in an antiquated phaeton, to which was harnessed a patriarchal horse, might seem to belong to a rather lower order in the social scale than her mother had a right to claim. So the near-sighted Professor's remark held anything but a pleasing suggestion. For a moment she hardly grasped its full significance, then drawing up her head like an insulted queen, she regarded the luckless man with blazing eyes as she answered:

"I am a Carruth, thank you, and the Carruths do as they _please_. You need not buy these candies if you don't wish to. I can get plenty of customers among my friends--the boys."

When did unconscious flattery prove sweeter? Those same "friends--the boys" would have then and there died for the small itinerant whose wares had so touched their palates, and who was openly choosing their patronage over and above that of an individual who had now and again caused more than one of them to pa.s.s an exceedingly bad quarter of an hour. A suppressed giggle sounded not far off, but the Professor's face retained its perfect solemnity as he bent his head toward Jean to get a closer view.

"Hum; ah; yes. I dare say you are quite right. I was probably over hasty in drawing conclusions," was the calm response.

"_Mammy_ says a _gentleman_ can always rec'o'nize a lady," flashed Jean, unconsciously falling into Mammy's vernacular.

"And who is Mammy, may I inquire?" asked the imperturbable voice, its owner absently eating lumps of fudge and pralines at a rate calculated to speedily reduce the supply he had on hand, the lads meanwhile regarding the vanishing "lumps of delight" with longing eyes.

"Why she's _Mammy_," replied Jean with considerable emphasis.

"Mammy _what_?" was the very unprofessional question which followed.

"Mammy Blairsdale, of course. _Our_ Mammy."

There was no answer for a moment as the candy continued to melt from sight like dew before the morning sun. Then the Professor looked at her steadily as he slowly munched his sweets, causing Jean to think of the Henrys' cow when in a ruminative mood.

"Little girl, are you from the South?"

"Don't _call_ me 'little girl' again!" flared Jean, bringing her foot down upon the bottom of the phaeton with a stamp. "I just naturally despise to be called 'little girl.' I'm Jean, and I want to be called Jean."

"Jean, Jean. Pretty name. Well _Miss_ Jean, are you from the South?"

"My _mother is_. She was a _Blairsdale_," replied "Miss" Jean, much as she might have said she is the daughter of England's Queen, much mollified at having the cognomen added.

"Do you happen to know which part of the South you come from?"

"_I_ don't come from the South at all. I was born right here in Riveredge. My mother came from Forestvale, North Carolina."

"I thought I knew the name. Yes, it is very familiar. Blairsdale. Yes.

Quite so. Quite so. Rather curious, however. So many years. My grandmother was a Blairsdale too. Singular coincidence, _she_ had red hair, I'm told, Yes, really. Think I must follow it up. Very good, indeed. Did _you_ make them? I judge not. Who did? I must know where to get more when I have a fancy for some," and having eaten the last praline the Professor absent-mindedly put into his mouth the paper in which they had been wrapped, having unconsciously rolled it into a nice little wad while talking.

A funny twinkle came into his eyes when his mistake dawned upon him and turning to the grinning boys he said:

"I have heard of men putting the lighted end of a cigar into their mouths by mistake. This was less unpleasant at all events," and the wad was tossed to the driveway. The boys burst into shouts of laughter and the ice was broken. Crowding about the phaeton they asked:

"Who makes the candy? Do you always sell it? When can we get some more? Say, Professor, do you really know her folks? Who _is_ she any how?"

"I told you my name, and I live in Riveredge. My sister makes the candy, but she doesn't know I'm selling it. Maybe she'll let me bring you some more, and maybe she won't. I don't know. And maybe I'll catch Hail-Columbia-Happy-Land when I get back home," concluded the young lady, her lips coming together with decision and her head wagging between doubt and defiance. "But I don't care one bit if I do. I've sold _all_ the candy, and I've got just piles of money; so _that_ proves that I _can_ help as well as the big girls even if _I_ am too little to be trusted with their old secrets. And now I've got to go straight back home or they'll all be scared half to death. Perhaps they won't want to scold so hard if they are good and scared."

"One of us will go with you till you get past McKim's Hollow," cried the boys. "Ned can, can't he, Professor?"

"I believe I'll go myself," was the unexpected reply. "I was about to walk over to Riveredge, but I think perhaps Miss Jean will allow me to ride with her," and without more ado Professor Forbes, B.A., B.C., B.M., and half a dozen other Bachelors, gravely removed the coverings from old Baltie, folding and carefully placing the blanket upon the seat and laying the rug over Jean's knees. After he had tucked her snugly in, he took his seat beside her.

"Now, Miss Jean, I think we are all ready to start."

If anything could have been added to complete Jean's secret delight at the attention shown her, it was the dignified manner in which the Professor raised his hat, the boys as one followed his example, as Baltie ambled forth. "That is the way I _like_ to be treated. I _hate_ to be snubbed because I'm only ten years old," thought she.

As they turned into the road the distant whistles of South Riveredge blew twelve o'clock. Jean started slightly and glanced quickly up at her companion.

"The air is very clear and still to-day," he remarked. "We hear the whistles a long distance."