“I live dere sometimes,” spoke the child, “and sometimes down dere,” and she indicated two directions.  “I dot two muvvers.”

“What in the world does she mean?” asked Mollie, hopelessly.

“That’s what she always says,” spoke the boy.  “She calls one of her aunts her mamma—­it’s her mother’s sister, you see.  She lives about a mile from Nellie’s house, and Nellie spends about as much time at one place as she does at the other.  She always says she has two mothers.”

“I has” announced the child, calmly, accepting another chocolate from Grace.

“And you know Nellie?” asked Betty, pointedly.

“Yes,” said the boy.  “You see, I work through this part of the country.  I peddle writing paper, pens, pins, needles and notions,” he added, motioning to his pack.  “I often stop at Nellie’s house, and at her aunt’s, too.  They’re my regular customers,” he added, proudly, and with a proper regard for his humble calling.

“I’m doing pretty well, too,” he went on.  “I’ve got a good trade, and I’m thinking of adding to it.  I’ll take little Nellie back home for you,” he offered.  “I’m going that way.  Sometimes, when I’m late, as I am to-day, her mother keeps me over night.”

“That’s nice,” said Betty.  “We really didn’t know what to do with her, and we ought to be in Flatbush at my friend’s aunt’s house,” and she indicated Mollie.  “Will you go with your little friend?” Betty asked of the child.

“Me go wif Dimmie,” was the answer, confidently given.  “Dimmie know where I live.”

“But can you walk?” asked Amy, as they all noticed that the boy’s foot was quite badly cut.

“Oh, I guess I can limp, if I can’t walk,” he said, bravely.  “If I had a bandage I might tie it up so I could put on my shoe.  Then I’d be all right.”

“Let me fix it,” exclaimed Betty, impulsively.  “I know something about bandaging, and we have some cloth and ointment with us.  I’ll bandage up your foot.”

“Oh, I couldn’t think of troubling you!” he protested.  “I—­I guess I can do it,” but he winced with pain as he accidentally hit his foot on the stone.

“Now you just let me do it!” insisted the Little Captain.  “You really must, and you will have to walk to take Nellie home.  That will be something off our minds.”

“Maybe we can get a lift,” suggested the boy.  “Often the farmers let me ride with them.  There may be one along soon.”

“Let us hope so—­for your sake as well as Nellie’s,” spoke Grace.  “It’s really kind of you, and quite providential that we met you.”

“Yes, ma’am,” replied the boy, looking from one pretty girl to the other.  “I’ll take care of Nellie.  I’ve known her for some time, you see.  I peddle around here a lot.  My father’s dead, I haven’t got any relatives except a sick aunt that I go to see once in a while, and I’m in business for myself.”

“You are quite a little soldier,” complimented Betty, as she got out the bandages and salve.  “You are very brave.”