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With a degree of tact she turned to the principal.

“You’re Mr. Curtis, aren’t you? I thought that was your name. Mine’s Grant—Mrs. John Grant. I live over in Sugar Valley. I guess that’ll do for introductions, though you might as well tell me this boy’s name, if you please.”

“Samuel Parker,” said Mr. Curtis.

“I won’t forget it, or what its owner did for me. I’ve tried to thank him, but I ain’t sure that I’ve exactly tickled him in doing it.” She smiled whimsically, and Sam, in spite of himself, winced. “But what I hope he’ll understand, and all of you will understand, is that I’m his friend for life. I’d like to do something to show how I feel about it. And I will do something!” Suddenly she wheeled to face Sam. “Come now! All boys I ever heard of liked good things to eat. It may strike you as not amounting to much, but I’ll send you one of my mince pies——”

“Oh, but you mustn’t!” Sam protested. “It—it’ll be too much trouble.”

Mrs. Grant paid scant heed to the objection. “I guess you don’t know the kind of pie I mean. There’s pies and pies, young man. And you won’t forget the one I send you.”