s won't blow away. I'm maki

[Quante Popa]

Ll look after you." A little later the ragged boy had eaten a good meal.
Then he was given some of Bunker Blue's old clothes, for he was almost
as large as the red-haired boy, and the old clothes were thrown away.
Mr. Brown looked at the boy's sore foot, and found that there was a big
sharp thorn in one toe. When this thorn had been taken out, and the toe
bound up with salve, the ragged boy said he felt much better. Perhaps I
shouldn't call him a ragged boy any longer, for he was not, with
Bunker's clothes on. "Mother, is he going to stay with us?" asked Bunny
that evening when it was nearly supper time, and the new boy--Tom
Vine--had gone after a pail of water at the spring. "Would you care to
have him stay?" asked Mrs. Brown. "Yes," said Sue. "He's nice. I like
him." "Well, we'll keep him for a while," answered Mrs. Brown. "He needs
help, I think." Tom Vine told more of his story after supper. He had
never been away from the city's pavements in all his life before he went
out to the country with the farmer who hired him. He had never seen the
ocean, or the woods. He did not even know that cows gave milk until he
saw the farmer's hired man milking one day. "I just don't know anything
about the woo


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