Margaret Cameron

“ Marjorie reminded them. "Did you ever ride in an automobile before?"
"Ho!" boasted the boy, from his seat beside Dolliver. "I ride in one every day. My father's got a big one, ever so much bigger'n yours."
"What's that?" questioned Dolliver, eying the child. "Your father owns an automobile?"
"Why, Jimmie McManus, you big story!" cried the little girl, who was in the tonneau with Marjorie. "He's just playing that he's Bobbie Cole," she explained to the Dollivers; "but he isn't, you know. He's only Jimmie McManus." ”

“ Here comes Cole now!" they shouted. "We've got him. Cole! They're all right!"
A grim, white-faced young man sat beside the chauffeur, and in the tonneau were two pallid, distracted women, who stood up as the car slackened speed, calling and holding out their arms to their children. The crowd made way, and before the car stopped, abreast of the other, the children, with terrified shrieks of, "Oh, mother! The 'nappers! The nappers got us!" ”

“ She waved an indeterminate hand. "Ever so far away."
"I see," said Dolliver. "And do you always bring your butter away over here to the road to sell?"
"Oh—now—" For the first time the child seemed disconcerted, and fixed an embarrassed glance upon the toe with which she tried to dig a hole in the grass. "Now—you see—now—"
"Where do you usually sell your butter, dear?" asked Marjorie, gently.
"To the summer people," instantly replied the child, looking at her again. "They live in the big houses, and have lots of money." ”

“ We saw these two children, over on the turn-pike, offering butter and eggs for sale, which we bought of them. They told us they were brother and sister, that their mother took in washing and kept cows and chickens, and that their father was a drunkard."
"Indeed! Which of them told this interesting tale?"
"Both of them," interposed Marjorie.
"Impossible!" sobbed Mrs. Cole, from her seat in the tonneau. "Frank, you know Bobbie never could tell a story like that! He never lies—and he never ran away in his life." ”

“ He just pretends. He's so little, he's always pretending things."
"Oh, I see," said Dolliver. "And has Bobbie a sister, too?"
"No, nor any brothers, neither," said the boy. "I wisht he had just one brother, anyhow."
"Have you any brothers?" Marjorie asked the boy.
"Oh, lots," the girl replied for him. "Mother's got seven kids—four girls and three boys."
"'N' father drinks something fierce," placidly added Jimmie.
"Poor soul!" murmured Marjorie, tucking an arm around Katie. ”

“ Hush up, Jimmie!" The little girl put her arms around him. "He won't beat her, now. We're going to take her the money, don't you see? Stop crying, you silly!"
By this time Marjorie had jumped out of the car and had gathered both children into her embrace, her sweet gray eyes full of tears.
"You poor, blessed little mites!" she cried. "You shall have the money. Give it to them, Page, so they can hold it in their hands and see it. Yes, dearie, you shall have it. Nobody shall hurt mother." ”

“ They are 'nappers! They are! Don't let them get me!"
"I guess that's all we want," roughly commented the muscular young man, shoving toward the car, and others took up the cry.
"Well, it isn't all I want!" retorted Dolliver, ringingly, standing up in the car. "Is there an officer in this crowd?"
"We'll give you all that's coming to you!" savagely promised another voice, and as the crowd again snarled and surged toward them Marjorie clasped her husband's arm and gave a terrified little cry. "Will you come down and take it? Or do we drag you out—the two of you? Get those kids out of the way!" ”

“ Katie took up the lamentation, "and Bobbie always has a governess tagging around and saying: 'Don't soil your clothes. Don't go in the sun. Don't get your feet wet. Don't make so much noise.' They just don't let anybody have any fun!"
"Well, nobody seems to be interfering very much with your liberty," suggested Dolliver, smiling at them. "Isn't your mother afraid the 'nappers will get you?" ”

“ Marjorie slipped a restraining arm around the excited, wriggling little body. "Who's Petie?",
"Petie Toland. He lives next door to Bobbie, and he can't ever have any fun, either," Katie explained.
"No fun?" questioned Dolliver. "What's the matter with him?"
"Oh, they're all so awfully afraid of 'nappers!" scornfully returned the little maid. "They won't let anybody out of sight!"
"'Nappers? What are 'nappers?"
"Kidnappers," expounded Jimmie. "They call em that 'cause they go round the country 'napping kids. Didn't you know they got Harry Alcott? But his folks got him back all right. ”

“ Jimmie looked up at him with a quick accession of interest, but the girl shook her head.
"We're only poor children," she explained. "Nobody wants us. They never 'nap you unless you're rich."
"Say," said Jimmie, looking from one to the other of the Dollivers, "you ain't 'nappers—are you?" His tone indicated that his own conviction in the matter was far from immutable.
"No, dearie, we're not 'nappers," said Marjorie, laughing gently.
"Oh, let's play you are!" Katie clapped her hands and sparkled. "Let's play you're 'nappers ”

“ In others—well, you know what it means to us. What one gets out of the country depends largely upon what one brings to it, I fancy—which, by the way, was more briefly and comprehensively said by a person named Emerson, several years ago. ”

“ And just like Corbin, from all I hear of him. I don't know him personally, but a classmate of mine was his secretary for a while, and he says the old man's not so bad when you get used to him, but he's certainly 'from Missouri'! ”