"It's a picture of me." "No. It's a picture of me," said the Unwiseman. "And it's one of the best I ever had taken." "But I don't see you in it," said Mollie. "All I can see is a great field of grass and a big bowlder down in one corner." "I know it," said the Unwiseman. "I'm lying on my back behind the bowlder asleep. If you could move the bowlder you could see me, but you can't. It's too heavy, and, besides, I think the paint is glued on." "I hope you don't lie on the ground asleep very much," said Mollie, gravely, for[Pg 45] she had taken a great liking to this strange old man who didn't know anything. "You might catch your death of cold." [Pg 45] "I didn't say I was lying on the ground," said the Unwiseman. "I said I was lying on my back. People ought not to catch cold lying on a nice warm back like mine." "And do you live here all alone?" asked Mollie. "Yes, I don't need anybody to live with. Other people know things, and it always makes them proud, and I don't like proud people." "I hope you like me," said Mollie, softly. "Yes, indeed, I do," cried the Unwiseman. "I like you and Whistlebinkie very much, because you don't either of you know anything either, and so, of course, you aren't stuck up like some people I meet who think just because they know the difference between a polar bear and a fog horn while I don't that they're so much better than I am.[Pg 46] I like you, and I hope you will come and see me again." [Pg 46] "I will, truly," said Mollie. "Very well—and that you may get back sooner you'd better run right home now. It is getting late, and, besides, I have an engagement." "You?" asked Mollie. "What with?" "Well, don't you tell anybody," said the Unwiseman; "but I'm going up to the village to the drug store. I promised to meet myself up there at six o'clock, and it's quarter past now, so I must hurry." "But what on earth are you going to do there?" asked Mollie. "I'm going to buy myself a beaver hat just like Whistlebinkie's," returned the Unwiseman, gleefully, "I've
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