Bab and Betty had been playing in the avenue all the afternoon severalweeks later, but as the shadows began to lengthen both agreed to situpon the gate and rest while waiting for Ben, who had gone nutting witha party of boys. When they played house Bab was always the father, andwent hunting or fishing with great energy and success, bringing home allsorts of game, from elephants and crocodiles to humming-birds andminnows. Betty was the mother, and a most notable little housewife,always mixing up imaginary delicacies with sand and dirt in old pans andbroken china, which she baked in an oven of her own construction.

Both had worked hard that day, and were glad to retire to their favoritelounging-place, where Bab was happy trying to walk across the wide topbar without falling off, and Betty enjoyed slow, luxurious swings whileher sister was recovering from her tumbles. On this occasion, havingindulged their respective tastes, they paused for a brief interval ofconversation, sitting side by side on the gate like a pair of plump graychickens gone to roost.

"Don't you hope Ben will get his bag full? We shall have such funeating nuts evenings observed Bab, wrapping her arms in her apron, forit was October now, and the air was growing keen.

"Yes, and Ma says we may boil some in our little kettles. Ben promisedwe should have half," answered Betty, still intent on her cookery.

"I shall save some of mine for Thorny."

"I shall keep lots of mine for Miss Celia."

"Doesn't it seem more than two weeks since she went away?"

"I wonder what she'll bring us."

Before Bab could conjecture, the sound of a step and a familiar whistlemade both look expectantly toward the turn in the road, all ready to cryout in one voice, "How many have you got?" Neither spoke a word,however, for the figure which presently appeared was not Ben, but astranger, - a man who stopped whistling, and came slowly on dusting hisshoes in the way-side grass, and brushing the sleeves of his shabbyvelveteen coat as if anxious to freshen himself up a bit.

"It's a tramp, let's run away," whispered Betty, after a hasty look.

"I ain't afraid," and Bab was about to assume her boldest look when asneeze spoilt it, and made her clutch the gate to hold on.

At that unexpected sound the man looked up, showing a thin, dark face,with a pair of sharp, black eyes, which surveyed the little girls sosteadily that Betty quaked, and Bab began to wish she had at leastjumped down inside the gate.

"How are you?" said the man with a goodnatured nod and smile, as if tore-assure the round-eyed children staring at him.

"Pretty well, thank you, sir," responded Bab, politely nodding back athim.

"Folks at home?" asked the man, looking over their heads toward thehouse.

"Only Ma; all the rest have gone to be married."

"That sounds lively. At the other place all the folks had gone to afuneral," and the man laughed as he glanced at the big house on thehill.

"Whh, do you know the Squire?" exclaimed Bab, much surprised andre-assured.

"Come on purpose to see him. Just strolling round till he gets back,"with an impatient sort of sigh.

"Betty thought you was a tramp, but I wasn't afraid. I like tramps eversince Ben came," explained Bab, with her usual candor.

"Who 's Ben!" and the man came nearer so quickly that Betty nearly fellbackward. "Don't you be scared, Sissy. I like little girls, so you seteasy and tell me about Ben," he added, in a persuasive tone, as heleaned on the gate so near that both could see what a friendly face hehad in spite of its eager, anxious look.

"Ben is Miss Celia's boy. We found him most starved in the coach-house,and he's been here ever since," answered Bab, comprehensively.

"Tell me about it. I like tramps, too," and the man looked as if he didvery much, as Bab told the little story in a few childish words thatwere better than a much more elegant account.

"You were very good to the little feller," was all the man said when sheended her somewhat confused tale, in which she had jumbled the old coachand Miss Celia, dinner-pails and nutting, Sancho and circuses.

"'Course we were! He's a nice boy and we are fond of him, and he likesus," said Bab, heartily.

" 'Specially me," put in Betty, quite at ease now, for the black eyeshad softened wonderfully, and the brown face was smiling all over.

"Don't wonder a mite. You are the nicest pair of little girls I've seenthis long time," and the man put a hand on either side of them, as if hewanted to hug the chubby children. But he didn't do it; he merely smiledand stood there asking questions till the two chatterboxes had told himevery thing there was to tell in the most confiding manner, for he verysoon ceased to seem like a stranger, and looked so familiar that Bab,growing inquisitive in her turn, suddenly said, -

"Haven't you ever been here before? It seems as if I'd seen you."

"Never in my life. Guess you've seen somebody that looks like me," andthe black eyes twinkled for a minute as they looked into the puzzledlittle faces before him, then he said, soberly, -

"I'm looking round for a likely boy; don't you think this Ben wouldsuite me? I want just such a lively sort of chap."

"Are you a circus man?" asked Bab, quickly.

"Well, no, not now. I'm in better business."

"I'm glad of it - we don't approve of 'em; but I do think they'resplendid!"

Bab began by gravely quoting Miss Celia, and ended with an irrepressibleburst of admiration which contrasted drolly with her first remark.

Betty added, anxiously: "We can't let Ben go any way. I know hewouldn't want to, and Miss Celia would feel bad. Please don't ask him."

"He can do as he likes, I suppose. He hasn't got any folks of his own,has he?"

"No, his father died in California, and Ben felt so bad he cried, and wewere real sorry, and gave him a piece of Ma, 'cause he was so lonesome,"answered Betty, in her tender little voice, with a pleading look whichmade the man stroke her smooth check and say, quite softly, -

"Bless your heart for that! I won't take him away, child, or do a thingto trouble anybody that's been good to him."

"He 's coming now. I hear Sanch barking at the squirrels!" cried Bab,standing up to get a good look down the road.

The man turned quickly, and Betty saw that he breathed fast as hewatched the spot where the low sunshine lay warmly on the red maple atthe corner. Into this glow came unconscious Ben, whistling "RoryO'Moore," loud and Clear, as he trudged along with a heavy bag of nutsover his shoulder and the light full on his contented face. Sanchotrotted before and saw the stranger first, for the sun in Ben's eyesdazzled him. Since his sad loss Sancho cherished a strong dislike totramps, and now he paused to growl and show his teeth, evidentlyintending to warn this one off the premises.

"He won't hurt you - " began Bab, encouragingly; but before she couldadd a chiding word to the dog, Sanch gave an excited howl, and flew atthe man's throat as if about to throttle him.

Betty screamed, and Bab was about to go to the rescue when bothperceived that the dog was licking the stranger's face in an ecstasy ofjoy, and heard the man say as he hugged the curly beast, -

"Good old Sanch!" I knew he wouldn't forget master, and he doesn't"

"What's the matter?" called Ben, coming up briskly, with a strong gripof his stout stick. There was no need of any answer, for, as he cameinto the shadow, he saw the man, and stood looking at him as if he werea ghost.

"It's father, Benny; don't you know me?" asked the man, with an odd sortof choke in his voice, as he thrust the dog away, and held out bothhands to the boy. Down dropped the nuts, and crying, "Oh, Daddy, Daddy!"Ben cast himself into the arms of the shabby velveteen coat, while poorSanch tore round them in distracted circles, barking wildly, as if thatwas the only way in which he could vent his rapture.

What happened next Bab and Betty never stopped to see, but, droppingfrom their roost, they went flying home like startled Chicken Littleswith the astounding news that "Ben's father has come alive, and Sanchoknew him right away!"

Mrs. Moss had just got her cleaning done up, and was resting a minutebefore setting the table, but she flew out of her old rocking-chair whenthe excited children told the wonderful tale, exclaiming as they ended, -

"Where is he? Go bring him here. I declare it fairly takes my breathaway!"

Before Bab could obey, or her mother compose herself, Sancho bounced inand spun round like an insane top, trying to stand on his head, walkupright, waltz and bark all at once, for the good old fellow had so losthis head that he forgot the loss of his tail.

"They are coming! they are coming! See, Ma, what a nice man he is," saidBab, hopping about on one foot as she watched the slowly approachingpair.

"My patience, don't they look alike! I should know he was Ben's Paanywhere!" said Mrs. Moss, running to the door in a hurry.

They certainly did resemble one another, and it was almost comical tosee the same curve in the legs, the same wide-awake style of wearing thehat, the same sparkle of the eye, good-natured smile and agile motion ofevery limb. Old Ben carried the bag in one hand while young Ben held theother fast, looking a little shame-faced at his own emotion now, forthere were marks of tears on his cheeks, but too glad to repress thedelight he felt that he had really found Daddy this side heaven.

Mrs. Moss unconsciously made a pretty little picture of herself as shestood at the door with her honest face shining and both hands ont,saying in a hearty tone, which was a welcome in itself,

"I'm real glad to see you safe and well, Mr. Brown! Come right in andmake yourself to home. I guess there isn't a happier boy living than Benis to-night."

"And I know there isn't a gratefuler man living than I am for yourkindness to my poor forsaken little feller," answered Mr. Brown,dropping both his burdens to give the comely woman's hands a hard shake.

"Now don't say a word about it, but sit down and rest, and we'll havetea in less'n no time. Ben must be tired and hungry, though he's sohappy I don't believe he knows it," laughed Mrs. Moss, bustling away tohide the tears in her eyes, anxious to make things sociable and easy allround.

With this end in view she set forth her best china, and covered thetable with food enough for a dozen, thanking her stars that it wasbaking day, and every thing had turned out well. Ben and his father sattalking by the window till they were bidden to "draw up and helpthemselves" with such hospitable warmth that every thing had an extrarelish to the hungry pair.

Ben paused occasionally to stroke the rusty coat-sleeve withbread-and-buttery fingers to convince himself that "Daddy" had reallycome, and his father disposed of various inconvenient emotions by eatingas if food was unknown in California. Mrs. Moss beamed on every one frombehind the big tea-pot like a mild full moon, while Bab and Betty keptinterrupting one another in their eagerness to tell something new aboutBen and how Sanch lost his tail.

"Now you let Mr. Brown talk a little; we all want to hear how he 'camealive,' as you call it," said Mrs. Moss, as they drew round the fire inthe "settin'-room," leaving the tea-things to take care of themselves.

It was not a long story, but a very interesting one to this circle oflisteners; all about the wild life on the plains trading for mustangs,the terrible kick from a vicious horse that nearly killed Ben, sen., thelong months of unconsciousness in the California hospital, the slowrecovery, the journey back, Mr. Smithers's tale of the boy'sdisappearance, and then the anxious trip to find out from Squire Allenwhere he now was.

"I asked the hospital folks to write and tell you as soon as I knewwhether I was on my head or my heels, and they promised; but theydidn't; so I came off the minute I could, and worked my way back,expecting to find you at the old place. I was afraid you'd have worn outyour welcome here and gone off again, for you are as fond of travellingas your father."

"I wanted to sometimes, but the folks here were so dreadful good to me Icouldn't," confessed Ben, secretly surprised to find that the prospectof going off with Daddy even cost him a pang of regret, for the boy hadtaken root in the friendly soil, and was no longer a wanderingthistle-down, tossed about by every wind that blew.

"I know what I owe 'em, and you and I will work out that debt before wedie, or our name isn't B.B.," said Mr. Brown, with an emphatic slap onhis knee, which Ben imitated half unconsciously as he exclaimedheartily, -

"That's so!" adding, more quietly, "What are you going to do now? Goback to Smithers and the old business?"

"Not likely, after the way he treated you, Sonny. I've had it Out withhim, and he won't want to see me again in a hurry," answered Mr. Brown,with a sudden kindling of the eye that reminded Bab of Ben's face whenhe shook her after losing Sancho.

"There's more circuses than his in the world; but I'll have to limberout ever so much before I'm good for much in that line," said the boy,stretching his stout arms and legs with a curious mixture ofsatisfaction and regret.

"You've been living in clover and got fat, you rascal," and his fathergave him a poke here and there, as Mr. Squeers did the plump Wackford,when displaying him as a specimen of the fine diet at Do-the-boys Hall."Don't believe I could put you up now if I tried, for I haven't got mystrength back yet, and we are both out of practice. It's just as well,for I've about made up my mind to quit the business and settle downsomewhere for a spell, if I can get any thing to do," continued therider, folding his arms and gazing thoughtfully into the fire.

"I shouldn't wonder a mite if you could right here, for Mr. Towne has agreat boarding-stable over yonder, and he's always wanting men." SaidMrs. Moss, eagerly, for she dreaded to have Ben go, and no one couldforbid it if his father chose to take him away.

"That sounds likely. Thanky, ma'am. I'll look up the concern and trymy chance. Would you call it too great a come-down to have father an'ostler after being first rider in the 'Great Golden Menagerie, Circus,and Colossem,' hey, Ben?" asked Mr. Brown, quoting the well-rememberedshow-bill with a laugh.

"No, I shouldn't; it's real jolly up there when the big barn is full andeighty horses have to be taken care of. I love to go and see 'em. Mr.Towne asked me to come and be stable-boy when I rode the kicking graythe rest were afraid of. I hankered to go, but Miss Celia had just gotmy new books, and I knew she'd feel bad if I gave up going to school.Now I'm glad I didn't, for I get on first rate and like it."

"You done right, boy, and I'm pleased with you. Don't you ever beungrateful to them that befriended you, if you want to prosper. I'lltackle the stable business a Monday and see what's to be done. Now Iought to be walking, but I'll be round in the morning ma'am, if you canspare Ben for a spell to-morrow. We'd like to have a good Sunday trampand talk; wouldn't we, Sonny?" and Mr. Brown rose to go with his hand onBen's shoulder, as if loth to leave him even for the night.

Mrs. Moss saw the longing in his face, and forgetting that he was anutter stranger, spoke right out of her hospitable heart.

"It's a long piece to the tavern, and my little back bedroom is alwaysready. It won't make a mite of trouble if you don't mind a plain place,and you are heartily welcome."

Mr. Brown looked pleased, but hesitated to accept any further favor fromthe good soul who had already done so much for him and his. Ben gave himno time to speak, however, for running to a door he flung it open andbeckoned, saying, eagerly, -

"Do stay, father; it will be so nice to have you. This is a tip-toproom; I slept here the night I came, and that bed was just splendidafter bare ground for a fortnight."

"I'll stop, and as I'm pretty well done up, I guess we may as well turnin now," answered the new guest; then, as if the memory of that homelesslittle lad so kindly cherished made his heart overflow in spite of him,Mr. Brown paused at the door to say hastily, with a hand on Bab andBetty's heads, as if his promise was a very earnest one, -

"I don't forget, ma'am, these children shall never want a friend whileBen Brown's alive;" then he shut the door so quickly that the otherBen's prompt "Hear, hear!" was cut short in the middle.

"I s'pose he means that we shall have a piece of Ben's father, becausewe gave Ben a piece of our mother," said Betty, softly.

"Of course he does, and it's all fair," answered Bab, decidedly. "Isn'the a nice man, Ma?

"Go to bed, children," was all the answer she got; but when they weregone, Mrs. Moss, as she washed up her dishes, more than once glanced ata certain nail where a man's hat had not hung for five years, andthought with a sigh what a natural, protecting air that slouched felthad.

If one wedding were not quite enough for a child's story, we might herehint what no one dreamed of then, that before the year came round againBen had found a mother, Bab and Betty a father, and Mr. Brown's hat wasquite at home behind the kitchen door. But, on the whole, it is best notto say a word about it.