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“Come up to Grandma’s,” she urged. “You can rest, and then you can get some shoes; and then my mother will help you go wherever you want to. I know she will.”

But the young man shook his head. “I don’t dare take a chance. Someone might be on the watch for me. You keep your promise, little Yankee girl. Don’t speak of me!” and again Roxy promised. “I can’t go on before to-morrow; I’m used up,” he added. “I’m only resting here. I’ll have to find a safer place to sleep.”

There was the sound of approaching wheels on the near-by road, and with a quick word of caution the young man disappeared and Roxy turned to see Polly driving the brown horse and light wagon coming rapidly down the highway. Roxy ran toward the road so that Polly would not notice any movement in the thicket; and as Polly saw her she drew rein, believing that Roxy had waited to make friends again.

“Oh, Roxy! Have you been waiting for me? Well, you are a dear! And have you forgiven your Polly-Wolly for being so horrid? I’ll never call you ‘Yankee’ again.” And the smiling Polly leaned down to touch Roxy’s rough straw hat.