She was tired still when they got out of the train at Hillsboro and started wearily up the road toward Putney Farm. Two miles lay ahead of them, miles which they had often walked before, but never after such a day of work as this. Molly dragged her feet as she walked and hung heavily on Betsy’s hand. Betsy plodded along, her head hanging, her eyes all gritty with fatigue and sleepiness. A light buggy spun round the turn of the road behind them, the wheels rattling smartly. The little girls drew out to one side and stood waiting till the road should be clear again. When the driver saw them, he pulled the horse back so quickly that it stood almost straight up. He looked at them through the twilight, and then with a loud shout sprang out of the buggy.

It was Uncle Henry Putney! They wouldn’t have to walk any farther!