other groceries with them, which was speedily unpacked. While the others were thus engaged in settling and arranging the house, Irene wheeled her chair to the porch, on the steps of which sat Bub, again whittling. He had shown much interest in the crippled girl, whose misfortune seemed instantly to dispel his aversion for her sex, at least so far as she was concerned. He was not reluctant even to look at her face and he watched with astonishment the ease with which she managed her chair. Having overheard, although at a distance, most of the boy's former conversation with Uncle Peter, Irene now began questioning him. "Have you been eating and sleeping here?" "Of course," answered Bub. "In the Lodge?" "No; over in Talbot's house. That's over the ridge, yonder; it's only a step, but ye kain't see it f'm here. My home's in the South Holler, four mile away." "Do you cook your own meals?" "Nobudy else ter do it." "And don't you get dreadfully lonesome at night?" "Who? Me? Guess not. What the Sam Hill is they to be lonesome over?" "There are no near neighbors, are there?" "Plenty. The Barker house is two mile one way an' the Bigbee house is jus' half a mile down the slope; guess ye passed it, comin' up; but they ain't no one in the Bigbee house jus' now, 'cause Bigbee got shot on the mount'n las' year, a deer hunt'n', an' Bigbee's wife's married another man what says he's delicate like an' can't leave the city. But neighbors is plenty. Six mile along the canyon lives Doolittle." Irene was delighted with Bub's quaint language and ways and before Mrs. Conant called her family to the simple improvised dinner the chair-girl had won the boy's heart and already they were firm friends. CHAPTER XIV A CALL FROM AGATHA LORD Hillcrest Lodge was perched upon a broad shelf of the wooded mountain,