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diff --git a/25481-h/25481-h.htm b/25481-h/25481-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..b72d285 --- /dev/null +++ b/25481-h/25481-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,4108 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" /> + <title> + The Project Gutenberg eBook of Little Grandfather, by Sophie May. + </title> + <style type="text/css"> +/*<![CDATA[ XML blockout */ +<!-- + p { margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; + } + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; + } + hr { width: 33%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + clear: both; + } + + table {margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;} + + + body{margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + } + + .pagenum { /* uncomment the next line for invisible page numbers */ + /* visibility: hidden; */ + position: absolute; + left: 92%; + font-size: smaller; + text-align: right; + } /* page numbers */ + .tocnum {position: absolute; top: auto; right: 4%;} + .blockquot{margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 10%;} + + .center {text-align: center;} + .smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + .caption {font-weight: bold;} + + .figcenter {margin: auto; text-align: center;} + + .figleft {float: left; clear: left; margin-left: 0; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-top: + 1em; margin-right: 1em; padding: 0; text-align: center;} + + .figright {float: right; clear: right; margin-left: 1em; margin-bottom: 1em; + margin-top: 1em; margin-right: 0; padding: 0; text-align: center;} + + .poem {margin-left:10%; margin-right:10%; text-align: left;} + .poem br {display: none;} + .poem .stanza {margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em;} + .poem span.i0 {display: block; margin-left: 0em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i2 {display: block; margin-left: 1em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i4 {display: block; margin-left: 2em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i3 {display: block; margin-left: 1.5em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i5 {display: block; margin-left: 2.5em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i6 {display: block; margin-left: 3em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i7 {display: block; margin-left: 3.5em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + // --> + /* XML end ]]>*/ + </style> + </head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Little Grandfather, by Sophie May + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Little Grandfather + +Author: Sophie May + +Release Date: May 15, 2008 [EBook #25481] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LITTLE GRANDFATHER *** + + + + +Produced by David Edwards, Josephine Paolucci and the +Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net. +(This file was produced from images generously made +available by The Internet Archive.) + + + + + + +</pre> + + + + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 301px;"> +<img src="images/front.jpg" width="301" height="500" alt="Little Grandfather." title="" /> +</div> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 301px;"> +<img src="images/titlepage.jpg" width="301" height="500" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3>LITTLE PRUDY'S FLYAWAY SERIES.</h3> + + +<h1>LITTLE GRANDFATHER.</h1> + +<h3>BY</h3> + +<h2>SOPHIE MAY,</h2> + +<h5>AUTHOR OF "LITTLE PRUDY STORIES," "DOTTY DIMPLE STORIES," "THE DOCTOR'S +DAUGHTER." ETC.</h5> + +<h3><i>ILLUSTRATED.</i></h3> + +<p class="center"> +BOSTON:<br /> +LEE AND SHEPARD, PUBLISHERS.<br /> +<br /> +NEW YORK:<br /> +LEE, SHEPARD AND DILLINGHAM.<br /> +1874.<br /> +</p> + + +<p class="center"> +Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1873,<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">By</span> LEE AND SHEPARD,<br /> +<br /> +In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington.<br /> +<br /> +Electrotyped at the Boston Stereotype Foundry,<br /> +No. 19 Spring Lane.<br /> +</p> + + +<h3>DEDICATION.<br /> +TO<br /> +<i>LITTLE MARY TOBEY.</i></h3> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><i>LITTLE PRUDY'S FLYAWAY SERIES.</i></h2> + +<h4>TO BE COMPLETED IN SIX VOLS.</h4> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">1. LITTLE FOLKS ASTRAY.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">2. PRUDY KEEPING HOUSE.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">3. AUNT MADGE'S STORY.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">4. LITTLE GRANDMOTHER.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">5. LITTLE GRANDFATHER.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">6. (In preparation.)<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CONTENTS</h2> + + +<p> +CHAPTER <span class="tocnum">PAGE.</span><br /> +<br /> +I. <span class="smcap">The Parlins.</span> <span class="tocnum"><a href="#Page_9">9</a></span><br /> +<br /> +II. <span class="smcap">Walking in Sleep.</span> <span class="tocnum"><a href="#Page_21">21</a></span><br /> +<br /> +III. <span class="smcap">The Trundle-bed.</span> <span class="tocnum"><a href="#Page_41">41</a></span><br /> +<br /> +IV. <span class="smcap">The Ox-money.</span> <span class="tocnum"><a href="#Page_53">53</a></span><br /> +<br /> +V. <span class="smcap">The Boy that wore Home the Medal.</span> <span class="tocnum"><a href="#Page_63">63</a></span><br /> +<br /> +VI. <span class="smcap">The Boy that meant to mind his Mother.</span> <span class="tocnum"><a href="#Page_80">80</a></span><br /> +<br /> +VII. <span class="smcap">The Boy that cheated.</span> <span class="tocnum"><a href="#Page_97">97</a></span><br /> +<br /> +VIII. <span class="smcap">The "Never-give-ups."</span> <span class="tocnum"><a href="#Page_113">113</a></span><br /> +<br /> +IX. <span class="smcap">The Muster.</span> <span class="tocnum"><a href="#Page_134">134</a></span><br /> +<br /> +X. <span class="smcap">Going to Sea.</span> <span class="tocnum"><a href="#Page_153">153</a></span><br /> +<br /> +XI. <span class="smcap">To the Forks.</span> <span class="tocnum"><a href="#Page_173">173</a></span><br /> +<br /> +XII. <span class="smcap">"I ha'e naebody now."</span> <span class="tocnum"><a href="#Page_197">197</a></span><br /> +<br /> +XIII. <span class="smcap">Conclusion.</span> <span class="tocnum"><a href="#Page_215">215</a></span><br /> +</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</a></span></p> +<h2>LITTLE GRANDFATHER.</h2> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER I.</h2> + +<h3>THE PARLINS.</h3> + + +<p>He did look so funny when they first put him into "pocket-clothes!" His +green "breeches" were so tight that they made you think of two pods of +marrow-fat peas, only they were topped off with a pair of "rocco" shoes, +as red as bell-peppers. He had silver buckles on his shoes, and brass +buttons on his green jacket, which was fastened at the back. He had a +white collar about his neck as large as a small cape, and finished off +around<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</a></span> the edge with a ruffle. His mother had snipped his dark locks so +they needn't look so much like a girl's; and then with his brown fur hat +on, which his grandfather Cheever had sent from Boston, he looked in the +glass and smiled at himself.</p> + +<p>Do you wonder he smiled?</p> + +<p>He had bright black eyes, red cheeks, and a rich, dark skin. He was a +handsome little creature; but when he was tanned, his brother Stephen +called him a "Pawnee Indian," which was a heavy joke, and sank deeper +into Willy's tender soul than Stephen suspected.</p> + +<p>After he had viewed himself in the mirror, dressed in his new suit, he +ran to his best comforter, his mother, and said, with a quivering lip,—</p> + +<p>"Isn't I <i>most</i> white, mamma?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span></p> + +<p>His mother caught him to her breast and hugged him, brown fur hat and +all, and told him he mustn't mind Steenie's jokes; he was not an Indian, +and Molly Molasses—the squaw who came around with baskets to +sell—would never carry him off.</p> + +<p>He was three years old at this time, and so full of high spirits and +health, that he was rather a troublesome child to manage. Mrs. Parlin +sometimes remarked, with a sigh and a smile,—</p> + +<p>"I don't know what I <i>shall</i> do with our Willy!"</p> + +<p>If she had said, "I don't know what I should do without him," it would +have been nearer the truth; for never did mother dote more on a child. +He was the youngest, and two little children next older—a son and a +daughter—had been called to their heavenly<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</a></span> home before he was born. +People said Mrs. Parlin was in a fair way to spoil Willy, and her +husband was so afraid of it, that he felt it his duty to be very stern +with the boy.</p> + +<p>Seth, the oldest son, helped his father in this, and seemed to be +constantly watching to see what Willy would do that was wrong.</p> + +<p>Stephen, two years younger than Seth, was not so severe, and hardly ever +scolded, but had a very "hectoring disposition," and loved dearly to +tease his little brother.</p> + +<p>Love, the only sister, and the eldest of the family, was almost as +soothing and affectionate to Willy as Mrs. Parlin herself. She was tall, +fair, and slender, like a lily, and you could hardly believe it possible +that she would ever grow to be such<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span> a very large woman as her mother, +or that Mrs. Parlin had once been thin and delicate, like Love.</p> + +<p>There was another, besides these two, who petted Willy; and that was +"Liddy," the housemaid. Lydia was a Quaker woman, and every "First Day" +and "Fifth Day"—that is, Sunday and Thursday—she went off to a +meeting, which was held over the river, three miles away, in a yellow +"meeting-house" without any steeple. It was not always convenient to +spare Lydia on "Fifth Day," for, Mr. Parlin kept a country hotel, or, as +it was called in those days, a "tavern," and there was plenty of work to +be done; but no matter how much company came, "Liddy" would leave her +pies half rolled out on the board, or her goose half stuffed, and walk +off to the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span> Quaker settlement to meeting. But when she came back, she +went steadily to work again, and was such a good, honest, pious woman, +that nobody thought of finding any fault with her.</p> + +<p>She was all the "regular help" Mrs. Parlin had; but Mrs. Knowles did the +washing, and often Siller Noonin came in to help Lydia with an extra +baking.</p> + +<p>Caleb Cushing—or, as the country people called him, "Kellup"—was the +man of all work, who took care of the sheep and cattle, and must always +be ready to "put up" the horses of any traveller who happened to stop at +the house.</p> + +<p>Mr. and Mrs. Parlin, the four children, and Caleb and Lydia, made up the +household, with the addition of great shaggy Fowler, the dog, and +speckled Molly, the cat, with double fore-paws.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span></p> + +<p>Grandfather Cheever, with his hair done up in a queue, came sometimes +from Boston, and made a long visit; but you could hardly say he belonged +to the family.</p> + +<p>Now, my story is to be about Willy, and I would like to describe him; +but how can I, when I have heard such various accounts of the child? I +suppose, if you had questioned the family about him, you would have +heard a different story from every one. His father would have shaken his +head, and said, Willy was a "singular child; there was no <i>regulation</i> +to him." Seth would have told you he was "impudent." Stephen would have +called him "a cry-baby," and Caleb, "the laziest little chap he ever +came across;" though "grandf'ther Cheever" thought him "very bright and +stirring." Love would have said, "He is <i>so</i> affectionate!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span> which his +father very much doubted. Lydia might possibly have called him a +"rogue," because he would spy out her doughnuts and pies, no matter +where she hid them away for safe keeping.</p> + +<p>But I know very well how his <i>mother</i> would have answered your question +about Willy. She would have said, "Don't talk of his faults; he is my +own little darling."</p> + +<p>And then she would have opened her arms wide, and taken him right in: +that is the way it is with mothers.</p> + +<p>Thus you see our Willy was not the same to everybody; and no child ever +is. To those who loved him he was "sweet as summer;" but not so to those +who loved him not.</p> + +<p>I suspect Willy was rather contrarily<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span> made up; something like a mince +pie, perhaps. Let us see.</p> + +<p>Short and crusty, now and then; rich, in good intentions; sweet, when he +had his own way; sour, when you crossed him; well-spiced, with bright +little speeches. All these qualities made up Willy's "points;" and you +know a mince pie is good for nothing without points.</p> + +<p>Some people brought out one of these "points," and some another. Seth +expected him to be as sharp as cider vinegar; and so I am afraid he was, +whenever Seth corrected him. But his mother looked for sweet qualities +in her little darling, and was never disappointed.</p> + +<p>Willy slept in the bedroom, in a trundle-bed which had held every one of +the children, from the oldest to the youngest. After he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span> had said his +prayers, Mrs. Parlin tucked him up nice and warm, and even while she +stood looking at his rosy cheeks, with the rich fringes of his eyelids +resting on them, he often dropped off into dreamland. She had a way of +watching him in his sleep, and blessing him without any words, only +saying in her heart,—</p> + +<p>"Dear God, let me keep this last precious treasure! But if that may not +be, O, lay it up for me in heaven."</p> + +<p>Willy was afraid to go to bed alone, which is hardly to be wondered at; +for he had a strange and dreadful habit of walking in his sleep. Such +habits are not as common now as they were in old times, I believe. +Whether Willy's walks had anything to do with the cider and doughnuts, +which were sometimes given him in the evening, unknown<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span> to his mother, I +cannot say; but Mrs. Parlin was never sure, when she "tucked" him into +his trundle-bed, that he would spend the night there. Quite as likely he +would go wandering about the house; and one cold winter, when he was a +little more than seven years old, he got up regularly every night, and +walked fast asleep into the bar-room, which was always full of men, and +took his seat by the fireplace.</p> + +<p>This was such a constant habit, that the men expected to see him about +half past eight o'clock, just as much as they expected to see the cider +and apples which "Kellup" brought out of the cellar.</p> + +<p>In those days cider was almost as freely drunk as water, and so, I +grieve to say, was New England rum and brandy; and you<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span> must not suppose +Mr. Parlin was a bad man because he allowed such drinking in his +bar-room. There were no pledges signed in those days, but he was a +perfectly temperate man, and a church member; he would have thought it +very strange indeed if any one had told him he was doing wrong to sell +liquor to his neighbors.</p> + +<p>And now, having introduced Master Willy and the rest of the family as +well as I can, I will go on to tell you a few of Willy's adventures, +some of which occurred while he was asleep, and some while he was +awake.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span></p> +<h2>CHAPTER II.</h2> + +<h3>WALKING IN SLEEP.</h3> + + +<p>About seven o'clock, one cold evening, Willy was in the bar-room, +sitting on Caleb's knee, and holding a private conversation with him, +while he nibbled a cookie.</p> + +<p>"Don't you think it's the beautifulest bossy ever you saw?"</p> + +<p>"Well, middlin' handsome," replied Caleb, mischievously; "middlin' +handsome."</p> + +<p>"O, Caleb, when it's got a white place in its forehead shaped <i>so</i>!" +said Willy, biting his cookie into something like the form of a star.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Well, yes; you see he'd be quite a decent-looking calf, if it wasn't +for that white streak, now," said Caleb, in a tone of regret.</p> + +<p>"If it <i>wasn't</i> for that white streak! Why, Caleb Cushing!—when 'twas +put there to purpose to be kissed! Love said so."</p> + +<p>"Well, everybody to their fancy," returned Caleb, dryly. "I never had +any notion for kissing cattle, myself."</p> + +<p>"She isn't a cattle, Cale Cushing. She's my bossy."</p> + +<p>"Yours, do you say? Then you'd better take care of him, Willy. He walked +up to the kitchen door to-day, to see if he could find anything there to +lay his hands on."</p> + +<p>"Hands? He hasn't any hands, Caleb!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</a></span> But you ought to take care of her, +any way, till I grow a man; father spects you to. And then, when she +gets to be a ox—"</p> + +<p>"Well, what are you going to do when she gets to be a ox?"</p> + +<p>Willy looked puzzled. He had never thought of that before.</p> + +<p>"Have him killed—shan't you, sonny? He'll make very nice eating."</p> + +<p>Willy stood upright on Caleb's knee, in horror and amaze.</p> + +<p>"My bossy killed? I'll send anybody to jail that kills that bossy."</p> + +<p>"Then perhaps you'd better trade him off now to Squire Lyman. Didn't the +squire offer to swap his baby for him?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; and so I would if that baby was a boy," said Willy, thoughtfully; +"but<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</a></span> she's only a girl—couldn't help me bring in chips, you know. +Guess I don't want a girl-baby."</p> + +<p>Caleb laughed at this very quietly, but his whole frame was shaking; and +Willy turned round and looked him in the eye with strong displeasure.</p> + +<p>"What you laughing at, Cale Cushing? You mustn't make fun of my bossy. +I'll tell you what I'll do with her. I'll keep her to haul hay with."</p> + +<p>"Did you ever see one ox hauling hay alone, Willy?"</p> + +<p>"No; but I'll have a little cart, and then she can."</p> + +<p>"But the trouble is, Willy, your ox might feel lonesome."</p> + +<p>"Well, I'll buy one ox more, and then he won't be lonesome."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Ah! but, Willy, oxen cost money."</p> + +<p>"'Sif I didn't know that! How much money do they cost, Caleb?"</p> + +<p>"Sometimes more, sometimes less. Pretty high this winter, for hay is +plenty. There was a man along from the west'ard, and, Willy, what think +he offered your pa for that brindled yoke of his?"</p> + +<p>"Three dollars?"</p> + +<p>"Seventy-five dollars; and your pa wouldn't let 'em go under ninety! +Think of that," added Caleb, dropping his voice, and appearing to talk +to the beech-wood fire, which was crackling in the big fireplace. "Think +of that! Ninety dollars! Enough to buy a small farm! Just what I should +have got in the logging-swamp, winter before last, if Dascom hadn't +cheated me out of it."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span></p> + +<p>"What did you say, Caleb?"</p> + +<p>"O, I was just talking to myself," replied Caleb, rather bitterly. "It +wasn't anything little boys should hear. I was only thinking how easy +money comes to some folks, and how hard it comes to others. You see I +worked a whole winter once, and never got a cent of pay; and I couldn't +help feeling it when your pa put that ninety dollars away in his +drawer."</p> + +<p>"You didn't want my father's money—did you, Caleb Cushing?"</p> + +<p>"No, child; only I knew if I'd had justice done me, I should have had +ninety dollars myself. It was mine by good rights, and I hadn't ought to +be cheated out of it."</p> + +<p>Willy looked up astonished. What did Caleb mean by saying it was "his by +good<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span> rights"?—his father's money. For he had not heard all Caleb's +remarks, and what he had heard he had entirely misunderstood.</p> + +<p>"Willy!" called his mother's voice from the sitting-room; but the little +fellow, was too excited to hear.</p> + +<p>"Do you mean my father's money, Caleb, that he keeps in his drawer?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes, child; laid inside of a book," replied Caleb, carelessly.</p> + +<p>"What! and you want it?—my father's money?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes," laughed Caleb; "off to bed, child. Don't you hear your +mother calling?"</p> + +<p>Willy slipped down from the man's knee, and walked out of the room in +deep thought. Why Caleb should want his father's money,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span> and say he had +a right to it, was more than he could understand; and he went to sleep +with his little brain in a whirl.</p> + +<p>Very soon tired and chilly teamsters began to pour into the bar-room, +and rub their hands before the roaring fire. Caleb, who had quite +forgotten his unlucky conversation with Master Willy, put fresh wood on +the andirons, and brushed the hearth with a strip broom. Presently Mr. +Parlin himself appeared in the doorway, bearing a huge pitcher of cider, +which sparkled in a jolly way, as if it were glad to leave its hogshead +prison in the dark cellar, and come up into such lively company.</p> + +<p>"Well, neighbors, this is a cold evening," said Mr. Parlin, setting the +pitcher down on the counter, and looking round with a hospitable smile. +"Caleb, fetch out the loggerhead."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span></p> + +<p>Caleb drew from the left ear of the fireplace a long iron bar, and +thrust it into the hot coals. That was the loggerhead, and you will soon +see what it was used for.</p> + +<p>While it was still heating, Dr. Hilton took from one corner of the room +a child's arm-chair, and set it down at a comfortable distance from the +fireplace.</p> + +<p>"We'll have it all ready for Bubby, when he makes us his visit," said +he, laughing.</p> + +<p>Some one always placed the chair there for Willy, and it was usually Dr. +Hilton.</p> + +<p>When the loggerhead was red hot, Caleb drew it out of the coals, and +plunged it into the cold cider, which immediately began to bubble and +hiss. Then he poured the sparkling liquid into mugs for the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</a></span> thirsty +teamsters to drink; and while he was still holding the pitcher high in +air, that the cider might come down with a good "bead," the door slowly +opened, and in glided Willy, in his yellow flannel night-dress.</p> + +<p>The men smiled and nodded at one another, but said nothing, as the child +crossed the floor, seated himself in the little red chair, and began to +rock. He rocked with such careless grace, and held his little feet +before the blaze so naturally, that you would have thought he came into +the room merely to warm his toes and to hear the men talk. You would +never have supposed he was asleep unless you had looked at his eyes. +They were wide open, it is true, but fixed, like a doll's eyes. If you +had held a lighted candle before them, I suppose they would not have +winked.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 332px;"> +<img src="images/i001.jpg" width="332" height="500" alt="The Little Sleep-walker.—Page 31." title="" /> +<span class="caption">The Little Sleep-walker.—Page 31.</span> +</div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span></p> + +<p>In fact, Willy was fast asleep and dreaming; and all the difference +between him and other sleepers was, that he acted out his dreams.</p> + +<p>"Queer what ails that child! Must be trouble on the brain, and he ought +to be bled," said Dr. Hilton, with the wise roll of the eye he always +gave when he talked of diseases.</p> + +<p>Nobody answered, for the doctor had said the same thing fifty times +before.</p> + +<p>Still little Willy kept on rocking and dreaming, as unconscious as a +yellow lily swinging on its stem.</p> + +<p>Everybody had a story to tell, which everybody else laughed at, while +the fire joined in the uproar right merrily. Still Willy slept on.</p> + +<p>Presently a glare of light at the windows startled the company.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Must be a fire somewhere!" said one of the men.</p> + +<p>"Only the moon rising," said another.</p> + +<p>"That's no place to look for the moon," said Mr. Parlin, seizing his hat +and cloak.</p> + +<p>"Fire! Fire!" shouted Mr. Riggs, running to the door in a panic.</p> + +<p>"I'll warrant it's nothing but a chimney burning out," remarked Caleb, +coolly; and when all the rest had gone to learn what it meant, he chose +to stay behind.</p> + +<p>There was nobody left in the bar-room now but himself and the sleeping +Willy.</p> + +<p>"Guess I'll take a look at the drawer, and see that the money is all +right," said careful Caleb, stepping inside the bar, which had a long +wooden grate, and looked somewhat like an enormous bird-cage, with the +roof off. "Mr. Parlin is a very careless<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span> man," said Caleb, drawing a +key from its hiding-place in an account-book; "he's dreadful free and +easy about money. I don't know what he'd do without me to look out for +him."</p> + +<p>So saying, Caleb turned the key in the lock, and opened the drawer. +There were rolls of bank bills lying in it, and handfuls of gold and +silver.</p> + +<p>"With so many coming and going in this house, it's a wonder Mr. Parlin +ain't robbed every night of his life," said Caleb, reckoning over the +bills very fast, for he was in the habit of counting money.</p> + +<p>Was it all right? Was the ox money there? When the "man from the +west'ard" paid it to Mr. Parlin, Caleb saw Mr. Parlin spread it between +the leaves of a little singing-book and lay it in the drawer.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span> Did Caleb +find it there now? And if he did, did he <i>leave</i> it there?</p> + +<p>Little boys, what do you suppose? You see he had been cheated out of +ninety dollars, and was very angry about it; and now he had the best +chance in the world to help himself to another ninety dollars, and make +up his loss. Do you think he would do it? Mr. Parlin <i>was</i> very careless +about money; quite likely he would never miss this. Was that what Caleb +was thinking about, as he knit his brows so hard?</p> + +<p>True, Caleb professed to fear God, but perhaps he did not fear Him; +perhaps he had been living a lie all this time—who knows?</p> + +<p>After he had staid inside the bar a little while, he came out, and +looking carefully at Willy, to make sure he was still asleep,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span> stole out +doors and joined the teamsters. They had only reached the top of the +hill, and hardly any one had noticed that Caleb had not been with them +all the while. The fire was only Mr. Chase's chimney burning out; but it +was so late by this time that the men did not go back to Mr. Parlin's +bar-room.</p> + +<p>Next morning Caleb went over to Cross Lots to see about selling a load +of potatoes, and soon after he left there was a great excitement in the +house. Mr. Parlin had found, on going to his money-drawer, that he had +lost ninety dollars.</p> + +<p>"Strange!" said he; "I remember it was there all safe at six o'clock; +for I saw it with my own eyes. It was spread in an old singing-book; and +the singing-book is gone too."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Could anybody have taken it?" said Love. "Who was here last night?"</p> + +<p>"O, I never leave a man alone in the bar-room," replied her father; "at +any rate I didn't last night."</p> + +<p>"Caleb would attend to that," said Mrs. Parlin; "he is more particular +than you are, I think."</p> + +<p>Willy looked up, with his black eyes full of questions.</p> + +<p>"Was it that money you had for the oxen, papa? Caleb telled me all about +it last night. He said you ought to not keep it; you ought to give it to +him; he wanted it."</p> + +<p>Mr. Parlin shook his head at Willy. "You mustn't make up such stories as +that, my son."</p> + +<p>"I guess he dreamed it," said sister Love.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span></p> + +<p>"O, I didn't, I didn't; Caleb said so," cried Willy; "he said so last +night."</p> + +<p>Caleb was gone an unusually long time; and when Dr. Hilton returned from +Harlow he said he left him at the bank in that town depositing some +money.</p> + +<p>That seemed strange, for Caleb had been so unfortunate that no one +supposed he had any money to put in the bank.</p> + +<p>"If it was anybody but Caleb, I should almost suspect he took that +ninety dollars," said Seth, after a while.</p> + +<p>"Don't—don't think it," exclaimed his mother; "we know Caleb too well +for that."</p> + +<p>"O, no, no, no!" cried little Willy. "Caleb is going to give me some +rabbits. Caleb carries me pickaback; do you s'pose he'd steal?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span></p> + +<p>They all laughed at that; it was a little boy's reasoning.</p> + +<p>When Caleb came home that night, and was asked why he had been gone so +long, he blushed, and, as Seth thought, looked guilty. He did not say he +had put any money in the bank, and did not even mention having been at +Harlow at all. Nobody could think why he should make such a secret of +going to Harlow, for Caleb was a great talker, and usually told all his +affairs to everybody.</p> + +<p>"Father has lost ninety dollars, Caleb," said Seth, looking him straight +in the eye; "who do you suppose has got it?"</p> + +<p>"Where? When?" cried Caleb; and then, when he had heard the story, he +turned quite pale, and declared he was "'palled." When Caleb was greatly +amazed, he said he was "'palled."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</a></span></p> + +<p>It was very uncomfortable at Mr. Parlin's for a few days. Nobody liked +to believe that Caleb had taken the money, but it did really seem very +much like it. Mrs. Parlin said she could not and would not believe it, +and she even shed tears when she saw her husband and sons treat Caleb so +coldly.</p> + +<p>Poor Caleb! Whether he was guilty or not, he was certainly very unhappy.</p> + +<p>"Willy," said he, "what made you tell your father I said I wanted his +money? I never made such a speech in my life?"</p> + +<p>"O, yes, you did, Caleb! Certain true you did! And I a sitting on your +knee. But you wouldn't steal, Cale Cushing, and I telled my papa you +wouldn't."</p> + +<p>"Willy," said Caleb, sadly, "I don't think you mean to tell a lie, but +what you<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</a></span> are talking about I don't know. I never stole so much as a pin +in my life; yet all the same I must go away from this place. I can't +stay where everybody is pointing the finger at me."</p> + +<p>"Who pointed a finger at you, Caleb? I didn't see 'em."</p> + +<p>Caleb smiled a broken-hearted smile, kissed Willy over and over again, +and went away that night, no one knew whither. He said to himself,—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Honor gone, all's gone;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Better never have been born."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Was he guilty? Who could tell? Was he innocent? Then you may be sure God +would make it clear some time. Caleb would only have to wait.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span></p> +<h2>CHAPTER III.</h2> + +<h3>THE TRUNDLE-BED.</h3> + + +<p>They were all very sorry to have Caleb go away, for he had lived in the +family a great many years, and was always good-natured and obliging.</p> + +<p>"But since he has turned out to be a thief, of course we don't want him +here," said Seth.</p> + +<p>"How can you speak so, my son?" said his mother, reprovingly. "You do +not really know any harm of Caleb. Remember what the Bible says, 'Judge +not, that ye be not judged.'</p> + +<p>"Why, mother, who judged Caleb? Who<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</a></span> ever accused him of stealing? I +should think he judged himself—shouldn't you? When a man runs away as +he did, it looks very much as if he was guilty."</p> + +<p>"O, no," said gentle Love, who was knitting "double mittens" in the +corner; "that isn't a sure sign at all. I dare say he went away because +he was unhappy. How would <i>you</i> like to live with people that don't +trust you? Why, Seth, you couldn't bear it, I'm sure."</p> + +<p>"I wish Caleb didn't go off," said Willy; "he was a-going to give me a +rabbit."</p> + +<p>"Well," said Stephen, in a teasing tone, "he wouldn't have gone off if +it hadn't been for you, Master Willy! You said he wanted father's money, +you know, and that was what put us to thinking."</p> + +<p>"O, yes, he telled me he wanted it," cried the little fellow stoutly.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Willy, Willy, you should be more careful in repeating other people's +words," said Mrs. Parlin, looking up from the jacket she was making. +"Little boys like you are so apt to make mistakes, that they ought to +say, 'Perhaps,' or, 'I think so,' and never be too sure."</p> + +<p>"Then I'm not sure; but <i>perhaps</i> I know, and I <i>guess</i> I think so real +hard."</p> + +<p>"That's right, little Pawnee Indian," laughed Stephen. "Indians like you +always stick fast to an idea when they once get hold of it."</p> + +<p>"I'm not an Indian," said Willy, ready to cry; "and I never said Caleb +stealed; 'twas you said so; you know you did."</p> + +<p>It grew very cold that winter, about "Christmas-tide," and one night the +wind howled and shrieked, while up in the sky<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</a></span> the moon and stars seemed +to shiver and shine like so many icicles. Willy had been put to bed at +the usual time, and nicely tucked in, and it was nearly half past eight, +the time for him to begin his wanderings. Lydia sat by the kitchen +fireplace, comforting herself with hot ginger tea.</p> + +<p>"It would be too bad for that little creetur to get out of bed such a +night as this," thought she; "I'm going in to see if he has enough +clothes on. Who knows but his dear little nose is about <i>fruz</i> off by +this time?"</p> + +<p>So she stole into the bedroom, which opened out of the kitchen, took a +peep at her beloved Willy, made sure his nose was safe, and turned down +the coverlet to see if his hands were warm.</p> + +<p>"Poor, sweet little lamb! Not much<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</a></span> cold now; but thee will be cold; +this room is just like a barn."</p> + +<p>Then, as "Liddy" went back to the kitchen, she wondered if it might not +be the cold weather that made Willy have what she called his +"walking-spells."</p> + +<p>"For he is so much worse in winter than he is in summer," thought she. +"Any way, I'm going to try, and see if I can't put a stop to it +to-night; and then, if the <i>expeeriment</i> works, I'll try it again."</p> + +<p>What "expeeriment"? You will soon see. There had been a quantity of +charcoal put on the kitchen fire to broil some steak for travellers; so +the kind-hearted Liddy bustled about on tiptoe, filled a shallow pan +with some of the coals, "piping hot," and placed it very near the +trundle-bed, on Mrs. Parlin's foot-stove.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</a></span></p> + +<p>Alas for Liddy's ignorance! she was always rather foolish in her +fondness for Willy; but didn't she know any better than to put a dish of +red coals so near him in a small room, and then go out and shut the +door? She often said she didn't "see any use in all this book-larning," +and wondered Mrs. Parlin should be so anxious to have her children go to +school. In her whole life Liddy had never attended school more than six +months; and as for chemistry and philosophy she knew nothing about them +except that they are hard words to spell. She did not dream that there +was a deadly gas rising every moment from that charcoal, and that her +darling Willy was breathing it into his lungs. She may have heard of the +word "gas," but if she had she supposed it was some sort of "airy +nothing" not worth mentioning.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</a></span></p> + +<p>Of course <i>you</i> know that if she had hated Willy, and wished to murder +him, she could hardly have chosen a surer way than this; but poor Liddy +went back to the kitchen with a smiling face, feeling well pleased with +her "<i>expeeriment</i>," and began to chop a hash of beef, pork, and all +sorts of vegetables, for to-morrow's breakfast.</p> + +<p>After a little while Willy began to toss about uneasily; but he did not +come out of the room and Liddy was delighted. She had said she meant to +put a stop to that; and so, indeed, she had,—for this time at least. +The dear child had not strength enough to get out of bed, and moaned as +if a heavy hand were clutching at his throat. In fact he was +suffocating. It is frightful to think of! Was nobody coming to save him?</p> + +<p>The chilly teamsters had some time ago<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</a></span> crowded into the bar-room with +frost on their hair and whiskers; but the frost was fast turning to +steam as they drank the cider which John, the new hired man, heated with +the red-hot loggerhead. Dr. Hilton had set out the little red chair, and +somebody would have wondered why Willy did not come in, if the men had +not all been so busy telling stories that they did not have time to +think of anything else.</p> + +<p>It was now nearly nine, and Mrs. Parlin and Love were in the +sitting-room sewing by the light of two tallow candles.</p> + +<p>"Isn't it the coldest night we've had this year, mother?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, dear, I think it is. You know what the old ditty says,—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'When the days begin to lengthen,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The cold begins to strengthen.'<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</a></span></div></div> + +<p>"I do wish dear little Willy would stay in his bed, nicely 'happed' in'" +(<i>happed</i> is the Scotch word for "tucked"), "but I suppose he is just as +well off by the bar-room fire. It's lucky he doesn't take a fancy to +wander anywhere else, and we can always tell where he is."</p> + +<p>"But, mother, I haven't heard him pass through the south entry,—have +you? I always know when he goes into the bar-room by the quick little +click of the latch."</p> + +<p>"So do I," replied her mother; "but now I think of it, I haven't heard +him to-night. I can't help hoping he is going to lie still."</p> + +<p>There was nothing more said for a little while. They were both very busy +finishing off a homespun suit for Willy. How should they suspect that a +strange stupor<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</a></span> was fast stealing over their little darling? Who was +going to tell them that even now he was entering the valley of the +shadow of death? <i>Who?</i> I cannot answer that question; I only know that +just then Mrs. Parlin, who was going to bed in about fifteen minutes, +and did not like to leave her work yet, suddenly dropped the jacket, +which was almost done, and said,—</p> + +<p>"Love, I guess I'll go in and look at that child. He may have tossed the +clothes off and got a little chilly."</p> + +<p>Then she arose from her chair slowly,—she was so large that she always +moved slowly,—took one of the candles, and went into the kitchen.</p> + +<p>As she opened the bedroom door—Well, I cannot tell you; you will have +to imagine that white, white face, pressed close to the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</a></span> pillow, that +limp little figure, stretched under the coverlet, in awful stillness.</p> + +<p>"O God, is it too late?" thought Mrs. Parlin. She saw the charcoal; she +understood it all in an instant.</p> + +<p>"Lydia, come quick!"</p> + +<p>A low moan fell on her ear as she bent to listen. Thank Heaven, it was +not too late! Willy could yet be saved!</p> + +<p>Happy mother, receiving her precious one as if from the dead! Bewildered +Willy, coming back to life with no remembrance of the dark river which +he had almost forded, without a thought of the pearly gates he had +almost entered!</p> + +<p>Conscience-stricken "Liddy!" How she suffered when she found what she +had done! Not that she made a scene by screaming and tearing her hair, +as some<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</a></span> ignorant people are apt to do at such a time. No; Liddy was a +Quaker, and the Quaker blood is very quiet. She only pressed her hands +together hard, and said to Mrs. Parlin,—</p> + +<p>"Thee knows I never <i>meant</i> any harm to that sweet child."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</a></span></p> +<h2>CHAPTER IV.</h2> + +<h3>THE OX-MONEY.</h3> + + +<p>Perhaps the shock had some effect upon Willy's habits, for after this he +did not walk in his sleep for some time.</p> + +<p>But one night, as the teamsters were drinking their cider, and talking +about the well-beloved "Kellup," wondering why he should take it into +his head to steal,—"as honest a man, they had always thought, as ever +trod shoe-leather,"—the bar-room door softly opened, and in glided +Willy, in his flannel night-dress.</p> + +<p>The men were really glad to see him, and nodded at one another, smiling, +but,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</a></span> as usual, made no remark about the child. They knew he could not +hear, but it seemed as if he could, and they were a little careful what +they said before him.</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Mr. Parlin, going on to speak of Caleb, "I considered him an +honest, God-fearing man, and trusted him as I would one of my own sons. +If there was any other way to account for that money, I should be glad, +I assure you,—as glad as any of you."</p> + +<p>"Where has Kellup gone to?" asked Mr. Griggs.</p> + +<p>"Gone to Bangor, they say."</p> + +<p>All this while Willy had not seated himself in his little chair, but was +walking towards the bar. After muttering to himself a little while, he +went in and took from the shelf the old account-book. Mr.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</a></span> Parlin looked +at the teamsters, and put his finger on his lips as a hint for them to +keep still, and see what the child would do.</p> + +<p>Willy felt in the account-book for the key, then glided along to the +money-drawer and opened it.</p> + +<p>"There, now, it isn't here," said he, after he had fumbled about for a +while with his chubby fingers; "the book isn't here that had the +ox-money in it. Caleb mustn't have that money; it belongs to my father."</p> + +<p>The men grew very much interested, and began to creep up a little +nearer, in order to catch every word.</p> + +<p>"Money all gone," sighed Willy; and then, appearing to think for a +moment, added, "O, yes; but I know where I put it!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</a></span></p> + +<p>Breathless with surprise, Mr. Parlin and his guests watched the child as +he pattered with bare feet across the floor to the west side of the +room, climbed upon a high stool, and opening the "vial cupboard," took +out from a chink in the wall, behind the bottles, a little old +singing-book.</p> + +<p>It was only the danger of startling Willy too suddenly that prevented +the amazed father from snatching the book out of his hand.</p> + +<p>"Yes, the ox-money is here," said Willy, patting the notes, which lay +between the leaves.</p> + +<p>How <i>do</i> you suppose he could see them, with his eyes fixed and vacant?</p> + +<p>Then he seemed to be considering for a space what to do; but at last put +the singing-book<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</a></span> back again in the chink behind the bottles, clambered +down from the stool, and taking his favorite seat in the red chair, +began to warm his little cold feet before the fire.</p> + +<p>"Well, that beats all!" exclaimed Dr. Hilton, before any one else could +get breath to speak.</p> + +<p>Mr. Parlin went at once to the cupboard, and took down the singing-book.</p> + +<p>"The money is safe and sound," said he, as he looked it over,—"safe and +sound; and Caleb Cushing is an honest man, thank the Lord!"</p> + +<p>"Three cheers for Caleb!" said Dr. Hilton.</p> + +<p>"Three cheers for Kellup!" cried one of the teamsters.</p> + +<p>And quite forgetting the sleeping child,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span> the rest of the teamsters took +up the toast, and shouted,—</p> + +<p>"Three cheers for Kellup Cushing! Hoo-ra-a-ay!"</p> + +<p>Of course that waked Willy, and frightened him dreadfully. Imagine +yourself going to sleep in bed, and waking up in a chair in another +room, in a great noise. It was the first time the little fellow had ever +been roused from one of his "walking-spells," and they had to carry him +away to his mother to be comforted.</p> + +<p>He did not know that night what had happened; but next morning they told +him that Caleb did not steal the money, and that papa had written a +letter to beg him to come back.</p> + +<p>"And how think we found out that Caleb didn't steal?" asked Stephen.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</a></span></p> + +<p>Of course Willy had not the least idea.</p> + +<p>"Because you stole the money yourself!" replied the hectoring Stephen.</p> + +<p>"O, what a story!" exclaimed Willy, angrily. "'S if <i>I'd</i> steal!"</p> + +<p>"Ah, but you did, little man! I'll leave it to father if you didn't!"</p> + +<p>Willy stamped and kicked. He had a high temper when it was aroused, and +his sister Love had to come and quiet him.</p> + +<p>"You took the money in your sleep," said she. "You didn't mean to do it; +you are not a thief, dear; and we love you just as well as we did +before."</p> + +<p>They all thought Willy must have had a dream about Caleb and the +ox-money, or he would never have gone and taken the singing-book out of +the drawer; but<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</a></span> from that day to this he has never been able to +remember the dream.</p> + +<p>Caleb cried for joy when he received the letter, and fell on his +knees,—so he afterwards told grandpa Cheever,—and thanked his heavenly +Father for bringing him out of the greatest trial he had ever had in his +life. He was very glad to go back to Mr. Parlin's, and everybody there +received him like a prince. King George the Third, coming in his own +ship from England, would not have been treated half so well; for the +Parlins despised him,—poor crazy monarch,—whereas they now thought +Caleb was the very pink of perfection. Even Seth begged pardon for his +hasty judgment. Mrs. Parlin gave him "election cake," for supper, and +some of her very best ginger preserves, and said<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</a></span> she did not see how +they could make up for the pain of mind he had suffered.</p> + +<p>Caleb confessed that he <i>had</i> felt "kind o' bad; but it wasn't worth +speaking of now."</p> + +<p>After this, when Willy told any improbable story, and insisted that it +was true, as children often will, his mother had only to remark,—</p> + +<p>"Remember Caleb! You said he wanted your father's money. Is this story +any more reasonable than that?" and Willy would blush, and stammer +out,—</p> + +<p>"Well, <i>perhaps</i> it isn't true, mamma. I won't tell it for certain; but +I <i>think</i> so, you know!"</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>I believe this was the only time that Willy<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</a></span> ever did anything in his +sleep that is worth recording. The rest of his adventures occurred when +he was wide awake; so, you see, if he did wrong there was not so much +excuse for him.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</a></span></p> +<h2>CHAPTER V.</h2> + +<h3>THE BOY THAT WORE HOME THE MEDAL.</h3> + + +<p>The school-house was deep red, and shamed the Boston pinks, which could +not blush to the least advantage near it. It stood on a sand-bank, with +a rich crop of thistles on three sides, and an oak tree in one corner. +There were plenty of beautiful places in town; but the people of +Perseverance, District Number Three, had chosen this spot for their +school-house, because it was not good for anything else.</p> + +<p>It was the middle of September, but the summer term was still in +session, because school had not begun that year until after<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</a></span> haying. It +was Saturday noon, and the fourth class was spelling. The children were +all toeing a chalk-mark in the floor, but Willy Parlin scowled and moved +about uneasily.</p> + +<p>"Order there," said Miss Judkins, pounding the desk with her ruler. +"What makes you throw your head back so, William Parlin?"</p> + +<p>"'Cause there's somebody trying to tell me the word, and I don't want +anybody to tell me," answered Willy, with another toss of his dark +locks.</p> + +<p>Fred Chase was sitting on a bench behind the class, with an open +spelling-book before him, and was the "somebody" who had been whispering +the word to Willy; but Willy was naturally as open as the day, and +despised anything sly.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</a></span> More than that, he knew his lesson perfectly.</p> + +<p>Miss Judkins asked no more questions, for she was well aware that Fred +Chase was constantly doing just such things. She smiled as she looked at +Willy's noble face, and was well pleased soon after to hear him spell a +word which had been missed by three boys above him, and march straight +up to the head. She always liked to have Willy "Captain," for deep down +in her heart he was her favorite scholar. There were only a few more +words to be spelled; then Willy called out "Captain," the next boy said +"Number One," the third "Number Two," and so on down the whole twenty; +and after that the school was dismissed for the week.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</a></span></p> + +<p>The "mistress" put on her blue gingham "calash,"—a big drawn bonnet +shaped like a chaise-top,—and as she was leaving the house she +whispered to Willy, "Don't forget what I told you to say to your +mother."</p> + +<p>"No, marm; you told me to say you'd asked Mrs. Lyman <i>if it was so</i>, and +Mrs. Lyman said, '<i>Yes, it is too true.</i>'"</p> + +<p>"That is it, exactly, dear," replied Miss Judkins, smiling. "And be sure +you don't lose your medal."</p> + +<p>She said that just for fun, and it was such a capital joke that Willy's +eyes twinkled. Lose the quarter of a dollar dangling from his neck by a +red string!—the medal which told as plainly as words can speak, that he +had left off that day at the head of his class!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</a></span></p> + +<p>As it was Saturday, he was to keep the medal till Monday morning—a +great privilege, and one he had enjoyed two or three times before. But +there was this drawback; he had to slip the medal under his jacket, out +of sight, on Sunday. It was the more to be regretted, as he sat in one +of the "amen pews," not far from the pulpit; and if the medal might only +hang outside his jacket, where it ought, Elder Lovejoy would certainly +catch sight of it when he turned round, and looked through his +spectacles, saying, "And now, seventhly, my dear hearers."</p> + +<p>Willy would sit, to-morrow, swelling with secret pride, and wishing +Elder Lovejoy's eyes were sharp enough to pierce through his jacket. But +then, as he told his mother, he "liked the feeling of the medal, even<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</a></span> +if it <i>was</i> covered up." I suppose there was some satisfaction in +knowing he was more of a boy than people took him to be.</p> + +<p>"Wonder what it is that Mrs. Lyman says is too true," thought Willy, +taking a piece of chalk out of his pocket, and drawing a profile of Miss +Judkins on the door-sill, while that young lady tripped along the road, +brushing the golden-rod and sweet-fern with the skirt of her dress.</p> + +<p>"Now stop that, Gid Noonin," said he, as a large boy came up behind him, +and tickled him under the arms. "Stop that!" repeated he, making chalk +figures, as he spoke, in the ample nose of Miss Judkins.</p> + +<p>"7ber 18001," scrawled he, slowly and carefully. "7ber" was short for +September; and Gideon could find no fault with that, for people often +wrote it so; but he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</a></span> could not help laughing at the extra cipher in the +year 1801.</p> + +<p>"Give me that chalk," chuckled he; and then he wrote, in bold +characters, "7ber the 15th, 1801."</p> + +<p>Willy dropped his head. He had not learned to write; but did he want to +be taught by that great Gid Noonin, the stupidest boy in school? Why, he +had gone above Gid long ago, just by spelling "exact." Gideon spelt it +e, g, z! Did you ever hear of anything so silly? And he a fellow twelve +years old! Willy was just eight, but he hoped he could spell! If you +doubted it, there was the medal!</p> + +<p>Gideon was not only a poor scholar,—he was regarded as a bad boy, and +many mothers warned their little sons not to play with him.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Look here, Billy, what you up to this afternoon? Going anywhere?"</p> + +<p>"Only up to the store, I guess. Why?"</p> + +<p>"O, nothing partic'lar. Just asked for fun."</p> + +<p>"Well, give back that piece of chalk," said Willy, "for it isn't mine. +Steve keeps it in his pocket to rub his shoe-buckles with."</p> + +<p>Gideon laughed, but would not return the chalk till he had whitened +Willy's jacket with it and the top of his hat. He never seemed to mean +any harm, but just to be running over with good-natured, silly mischief.</p> + +<p>Willy ran home whistling; but when he saw his father standing in the +front entry, his tune grew a little slower, and then stopped. Mr. Parlin +was rather stern with<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</a></span> his children, and did not like to have them make +much noise in the house.</p> + +<p>"Well, my son, so you have brought home the medal again. That's +right,—that's right."</p> + +<p>Willy took off his hat when his father spoke to him, and answered, "Yes, +sir," with a respectful bow.</p> + +<p>There were two or three men standing in the doorway which led into the +bar-room.</p> + +<p>"How d'ye do, my fine little lad?" said one of the men; "and what is +your name?"</p> + +<p>Now, this was a question which Deacon Turner had asked over and over +again, and Willy was rather tired of answering it. He thought the deacon +might remember after being told so many times.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</a></span></p> + +<p>"My name is just the same as it was the other day when you asked me, +sir," said he.</p> + +<p>This pert speech called forth a laugh from all but Mr. Parlin, who +frowned at the child, and exclaimed,—</p> + +<p>"You are an ill-mannered little boy, sir. Go to your mother, and don't +let me see you here again till you can come back with a civil tongue in +your head."</p> + +<p>Tears sprang to Willy's eyes. He really had not intended any rudeness, +and was ashamed of being reproved before strangers. He walked off quite +stiffly, wishing he was "a growed-up man, so there wouldn't anybody dare +send him out to his mother."</p> + +<p>But when he reached the kitchen, he found it so attractive there that he +soon<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</a></span> forgot his disgrace. A roast of beef was sizzling before the fire +on a string, and Siller Noonin was taking a steaming plum pudding out of +the Dutch oven, while Mrs. Parlin stood near the "broad dresser," as it +was called, cutting bread.</p> + +<p>"O, mother, mother! the mistress told me to tell you she asked Mrs. +Lyman what you asked her to, and she told <i>her</i> to ask <i>me</i> to tell +<i>you</i> it was too true.—Now, <i>what</i> is too true, mother?"</p> + +<p>"It is too true that you are right in my way, you dear little plague," +said Mrs. Parlin, stopping, in the very act of cutting bread, to hug the +rosy-cheeked boy. She was a "business woman," and had many cares on her +mind, but always found time to kiss and pet her children more than most +people did, and much more<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</a></span> than Siller Noonin thought was really +necessary.</p> + +<p>"But, then," as Siller said, "their father never makes anything of them +at all; so I suppose their mother feels obliged to do more than her part +of the kissing."</p> + +<p>"Mother, mother! what is it that is too true? How can anything be too +true?" asked Willy, dancing across the hearth, and almost upsetting the +dripping-pan in which Liddy had just made the gravy.</p> + +<p>"You shall hear, by and by, all it is best for you to know," replied +Mrs. Parlin. And after dinner was served, and Siller had gone home, she +told him that Siller's nephew, Gideon Noonin, had been a very naughty +boy—worse than people generally supposed him to be.</p> + +<p>She did not like to repeat the whole<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</a></span> of the sad story,—how he had +stolen money from Mr. Griggs, the toll-gatherer, and how poor Mr. +Noonin, the father, had paid it back by selling some sheep, and begged +Mr. Griggs not to send his bad son to jail. She did not wish Willy to +know all this; but she told him she was more than ever convinced that +Gideon was a wicked boy.</p> + +<p>"I don't know what makes you little children all like him so well," said +she. "He may be funny and good-natured, but he is not a suitable +playmate for anybody, especially for a small boy like you. Remember the +old proverb, 'Eggs should not dance with stones.'"</p> + +<p>Willy looked deeply interested while his mother was talking, and said he +would never speak to Gideon except to answer questions.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</a></span></p> + +<p>"But he does ask so many questions! I tell you, mamma, he's always +taking hold of you, and asking if you don't want to go somewhere, or do +something. And then he makes you go right along and do it, 'cause he's +so big. Why he's twice as big as me, mother; but he can't spell worth a +cent."</p> + +<p>A little while after this, Willy ran off, whistling, to buy some +mackerel and codfish at Daddy Wiggins's store. Before he reached the +store, he heard a voice up in the air calling out to him,—</p> + +<p>"Hullo, Billy Button! what you crying about down there?"</p> + +<p>Willy stopped whistling, and looked up to see where the voice came from. +Gideon Noonin was sitting on the bough of a great maple tree, eating +gingerbread. The sight<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</a></span> of his face filled Willy with strange feelings. +What a naughty, dreadful face it was, with the purple scar across the +left cheek! Willy had never admired that scar, but now he thought it was +horrible. His mother was right: Gid must be a very bad boy.</p> + +<p>At the same time Gid's eyes danced in the most enticing manner, and +laughing gleefully he threw down a great ragged piece of gingerbread, +which Willy knew, from past experience, must be remarkably nice. It was +glazed on the top as smooth as satin, and had caraway seeds in it, and +another kind of spice of an unknown name. Willy intended to obey his +mother, and beware of Gideon; but who had ever told him to beware of +Gideon's gingerbread? Gid might be bad, but surely the gingerbread<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</a></span> +wasn't! Moreover, if nobody ate it, it would get stepped on in the road, +and wasted. So to save it Willy opened his mouth and began to nibble. No +harm in that—was there?</p> + +<p>"Wan't to go swimming, Billy?"</p> + +<p>Willy was walking along as fast as he could, but of course he must +answer a civil question.</p> + +<p>"No. Don't know how to swim."</p> + +<p>"Who s'posed you did—a little fellow like you?" said Gid, in a +warm-hearted tone, as he dropped nimbly down from the tree, and alighted +on his head. "Come 'long o' me, and I'll show you how."</p> + +<p>Willy's eyes sparkled,—he didn't know it, but they did,—and he drew in +his breath with a "Whew!" Not that he had the least idea of going with +Gid; but<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</a></span> the very thought of it was perfectly bewitching. How often he +had teased his two brothers to teach him to swim! and they wouldn't. He +was always too young, and they never could stop. They thought he was a +baby; but Gid didn't think so. Ah, Gid knew better than that.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</a></span></p> +<h2>CHAPTER VI.</h2> + +<h3>THE BOY THAT MEANT TO MIND HIS MOTHER.</h3> + + +<p>"Come on, Billy Button."</p> + +<p>"O, Gid Noonin, I can't."</p> + +<p>"Why not? Got the cramp?"</p> + +<p>"Look here, Gid."</p> + +<p>"Well, I'm looking."</p> + +<p>"Now, Gid Noonin!"</p> + +<p>"Yes; that's my name!"</p> + +<p>"I shan't go a step!"</p> + +<p>"So I wouldn't," returned Gid, coolly. "I only asked you for fun."</p> + +<p>"O—h! H'm! Are you going to swim in the brook or the river?"</p> + +<p>"Brook, you goosie. Prime place down<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</a></span> there by the old willow tree. +Don't you wish I'd let you go?"</p> + +<p>"No; for my mother says—"</p> + +<p>"O, <i>does</i> she, though?"</p> + +<p>"My mother says—"</p> + +<p>"Lor, now, Billy Button!"</p> + +<p>"Hush, Gid; my mother says—"</p> + +<p>"A pretty talking woman your mother is!" struck in Gid, squinting his +eyes.</p> + +<p>What a witty creature Gid was! Willy could hardly keep from laughing.</p> + +<p>"Can't you let me speak, Gid Noonin? My mother says she won't—"</p> + +<p>"Says she <i>won't</i>? That's real wicked kind of talk! I'm ashamed of your +mother!"</p> + +<p>Willy laughed. Gid did have <i>such</i> a way of making up faces!</p> + +<p>"Come on, you little girl-baby! Guess I <i>will</i> take you, if you won't +cry."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</a></span></p> + +<p>Willy laughed again. It was not at all painful, but extremely funny, to +hear Gid call names, for he never did it in a provoking way at all.</p> + +<p>"Come along, you little tip end of a top o' my thumb."</p> + +<p>"No, <i>sir</i>. Shan't go a step!"</p> + +<p>Willy was a boy that meant to mind his mother.</p> + +<p>"But I s'pose you'll have to go if I take you."</p> + +<p>Willy caught himself by the left ear. He felt the need of holding on by +something; still he was somehow afraid he should have to go in spite of +his ears. Was there ever such a boy as Gid for teasing?</p> + +<p>"Why, Gid Noonin, I told you my mother said—"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</a></span></p> + +<p>"No, you didn't! You haven't told me a thing! You stutter so I can't +understand a word."</p> + +<p>At the idea of his stuttering, Willy laughed outright; and during that +moment of weakness was picked up and set astride of Gid's shoulders.</p> + +<p>"You put me down! My mother says I shan't play with you; so there!" +cried Willy, struggling manfully, yet a little pleased, I must confess, +to think he couldn't possibly help himself.</p> + +<p>"Ride away, ride away. Billy shall ride," sang Gid, bouncing his burden +up and down.</p> + +<p>Willy felt like a dry leaf in an eddy, which is whirled round and round, +yet is all the while making faster and faster for the hungry dimple in +the middle, where there is no getting out again.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</a></span></p> + +<p>"O, dear, Gid's such a great big boy, and I'm <i>only</i> just eight," +thought he, jolting up and down like a bag of meal on horseback. Well, +it would be good fun, after all, to go in swimming,—splendid fun, when +there was somebody to hold you up, and keep you from drowning. If you +could forget that your mother had told you not to play with Gid Noonin!</p> + +<p>"If you get the string of that medal wet you'll catch it," said Gid. +"Better take it off and put it in your pocket."</p> + +<p>"Just a-going to," said Willy. "D'you think I's a fool?"</p> + +<p>Well, wasn't it nice! The water feeling so ticklish all over you, and—</p> + +<p>Why, no, it wasn't nice at all; it was just frightful! After two or +three dives, Gid had snapped his fingers in his face,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</a></span> and gone off and +left him. Willy couldn't swim any more than a fish-hook. Where <i>was</i> +Gid?</p> + +<p>"The water's up to my chin. Come, Gid, quick!"</p> + +<p>What would Seth and Stephen say if they knew how he was abused? No—his +mother? No—Love, and Caleb, and Liddy? How they would feel! There +wasn't any bottom to this brook, or if there ever had been it had +dropped out.</p> + +<p>"O, Gid, I can't stand up."</p> + +<p>Gid was in plain sight now, on the bank, pretending to skip stones. Gid +was like a Chinese juggler; he could make believe do one thing, while he +was really doing another.</p> + +<p>"Quick! Quick! Quick! I shall dro—ow—own!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</a></span></p> + +<p>Gid took his own time; but as he swam slowly back to his trembling +little playmate, he was "rolling a sweet morsel under his tongue," which +tasted very much like a silver medal—with the string taken out.</p> + +<p>"What d'you go off for?" gasped Willy.</p> + +<p>"For fun, you outrageous little ninny!" mumbled Gid, tickling Willy +under the arms. "I'm going to get you out, now, and dress you, and send +you home to your mother."</p> + +<p>"Dress me, I guess!"</p> + +<p>"Well, you'd better scamper!" said Gid, hurriedly, as they got into +their clothes. "Your mother'll have a fit about you."</p> + +<p>"My mother? No, she won't. She don't spect the codfish and mackerel till +most supper-time. She said I might play, but she wasn't willing I should +play with you,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</a></span> though, Gid Noonin," said little Willy, squeezing the +water out of his hair.</p> + +<p>"But you did, you little scamp! Now run along home. I can't stop to +talk. Got to saw wood."</p> + +<p>"Then what made you creep so awful slow when I called to you?" asked +Willy, indignantly.</p> + +<p>"O, because I've got such a sore throat," wheezed Gideon. "Off with you! +Scamper!"</p> + +<p>Upon that Gid took to his heels, and left Master Willy staring at him, +and wondering what a sore throat had to do with swimming, and what made +Gid in such a hurry all in a minute.</p> + +<p>"He's a queer fellow—Gid is! Can't spell worth a cent. Should think +he'd be ashamed to see a little boy like me wear<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</a></span> the medal. Glad I +didn't wet it, for the color would have washed out of the string."</p> + +<p>With that Willy put his hand in his pocket.</p> + +<p>"Out here and show yourself, sir."</p> + +<p>This to the medal.</p> + +<p>"What! Why, what's this?"</p> + +<p>He felt in the other pocket.</p> + +<p>"Why! Why!"</p> + +<p>He drew out junks of blue clay, wads of twine, a piece of chalk, a +fish-hook, and various other articles more or less wound up in a wad; +but no medal.</p> + +<p>"Guess there's a hole in my pocket, and the medal fell through."</p> + +<p>And without stopping to examine the pocket, he ran back all the way to +the brook. Nowhere to be found. Not in the grass on either side of the +road; not on the bank.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</a></span></p> + +<p>Then he remembered to look at his pockets; turned them all three inside +out four times. No hole there.</p> + +<p>"Well, I never!—Look here, you Oze Wiggins; did you pick up anything in +the grass?"</p> + +<p>"Noffin' but a toadstool," replied little Ozem, innocently; and Willy +wondered if he wasn't a half-fool to make such an answer as that.</p> + +<p>"Where can that medal be?" said he, with a dry sob.</p> + +<p>He did not once suspect that Gideon Noonin had taken it.</p> + +<p>"I'll go home and tell my mother. O, dear! O, dear!"</p> + +<p>He was still at the tender age when little boys believe their mammas can +help them out of any kind of trouble. True, he had<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</a></span> been naughty and +disobedient; but if he said he was sorry, wouldn't her arms open to take +him in? He was sorry now,—no doubt of that,—and was running home with +all speed, when the sight of his father in the distance reminded him of +his errand, and he rushed back to the store for the codfish and +mackerel.</p> + +<p>"What makes your hair so wet, bubby?" asked Daddy Wiggins, rolling the +fish in brown paper. "Haven't been in swimming—have you?"</p> + +<p>"Don' know," stammered Willy, darting out of the store.</p> + +<p>If his hair was wet it wouldn't do to go home till it was dry; for his +father would find out that he had been in the brook, and the next thing +in order would be a whipping. It was hard enough to lose<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</a></span> the medal; +Willy thought a whipping would be more than he could bear, for it was +always given with a horsewhip out in the barn; and the unlucky boy could +never help envying the cows, as they looked on, chewing their cuds with +such an air of content and unconcern. Cows never were punished, nor +sheep either. Good times they had—that's a fact. <i>Sheep</i> wouldn't mind +a real heavy horse-whipping, they were done up so in wool; but when a +little boy had to take off his jacket, why, there wasn't much over his +skin to keep off the smart. Ugh! how it did hurt!</p> + +<p>There was another advantage in being a sheep, or a cow, or a hen; +animals of that sort never lost anything—didn't have medals to lose.</p> + +<p>"And this wasn't mine," groaned Willy.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</a></span> "What'll the mistress do to me? +Don' know; blister both hands, I s'pose!"</p> + +<p>Willy had intended to play ball with the little boys, but it was not to +be thought of now. Putting his fish behind a tree, he ran to the brook +again and poked with a stick as far as he could reach; then waded in up +to his knees, for the medal might have rolled out of his pocket.</p> + +<p>"No, it couldn't; for my breeches were tucked in up there between two +rocks."</p> + +<p>Suddenly he recollected Gideon's going back to the bank.</p> + +<p>"That wicked, mean boy!" almost screamed Willy. "He stole my medal! I'll +go right off and tell mother!"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Parlin had on her afternoon cap, and was sitting alone in the +well-sanded "fore-room," doing the mending, and singing,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</a></span>—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"While shepherds watched their flocks by night,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">All seated on the ground,"—<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>when Willy, with his pantaloons tucked up to his knees, and his head +dripping with water, rushed wildly into the room.</p> + +<p>"My medal's gone! Gid Noonin stole it!"</p> + +<p>"My son! What do you mean?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, ma'am; Gid Noonin stole it! Made me go in swimming, and then he +stole it!"</p> + +<p>"Gideon Noonin?" said Mrs. Parlin, with a meaning glance. "That boy? +<i>Made</i> you go swimming, my son?"</p> + +<p>Willy hung his head.</p> + +<p>"Yes, ma'am! Marched me off down to the brook pickaback,—he did!"</p> + +<p>"Poor, little baby!" said Mrs. Parlin, in the soft, pitiful tone she +would have used to an infant. "Poor little baby!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</a></span></p> + +<p>Willy's head sank lower yet, and the blush of shame crept into his +cheeks.</p> + +<p>"Why, mother, he's as strong's a moose; he could most lift <i>you</i>!"</p> + +<p>"'My son, if sinners entice thee, consent thou not.'"</p> + +<p>"Well, but I—"</p> + +<p>"You consented in your heart, Willy, or Gideon could not have made you +go swimming."</p> + +<p>What a very bright woman! Willy was amazed. How could she guess that +while riding on Gid's back he had been a <i>little</i> glad to think he could +not help it? He had hardly known himself that he was glad, it was such a +wee speck of a feeling, and so covered up with other feelings.</p> + +<p>"But I tried not to go, mother. I tell you I squirmed awf'ly!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Well, you didn't try hard enough in the first place, Willy. Come here, +and sit in my lap, and let us talk it over.—Do you know, my son, if you +<i>had</i> tried hard enough, the Lord would have helped you?"</p> + +<p>Willy raised his eyes wonderingly. Had God been looking on all the +while, just ready to be spoken to? He had not thought of that.</p> + +<p>"O, mamma," said he solemnly, "I will mind, next time, see 'f I don't. +But there's that medal; why, what'll I do?"</p> + +<p>"If Gideon will not return it, you must pay Miss Judkins a quarter of a +dollar."</p> + +<p>"With a hole in," sighed Willy. "Why, I've only got two cents in this +world."</p> + +<p>"O, well," said Mrs. Parlin, hopefully, "perhaps you can hire out to +papa, and earn the rest."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</a></span></p> + +<p>"O, if he'll <i>only</i> let me! Won't you please ask him, mamma?" cried +Willy, filled with a new hope. "Ask him, and get Love to ask him, too. +<i>I</i> shouldn't dare do it, you know."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</a></span></p> +<h2>CHAPTER VII</h2> + +<h3>THE BOY THAT CHEATED.</h3> + + +<p>The next Monday Seth happened to go into the shed-chamber for a piece of +leather to mend an old harness, and met Willy coming down the stairs +with a basket full of old iron.</p> + +<p>"Stop a minute, Willy. What have you got there?"</p> + +<p>Willy would have obeyed at once, if it had not been for that lordly tone +and air of Seth's, which always made him feel contrary.</p> + +<p>"Stop, I say!" repeated Seth. "What have you got there?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Old iron."</p> + +<p>"Old iron? Did mother send you after it?"</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>"Well, then, go carry it right back."</p> + +<p>Willy did not stir.</p> + +<p>"Old iron is worth money, little boy."</p> + +<p>"Yes; I know that."</p> + +<p>"And what business have you with it?"</p> + +<p>"Going to sell it."</p> + +<p>"What? Without asking mother, you naughty boy?"</p> + +<p>Willy set the heavy basket on the next lower stair.</p> + +<p>"So you went up stairs for that iron without leave? What a wicked boy!"</p> + +<p>Willy set the basket on another stair.</p> + +<p>"Bellows' nose, old tea-kettle, rusty nails," said Seth, examining the +basket.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Willy Parlin, do you know this is stealing."</p> + +<p>"'Tisn't, neither!"</p> + +<p>"But I tell you it is! Just as much stealing as if you took money out of +father's wallet."</p> + +<p>"I don't steal," said Willy, setting the basket on another stair.</p> + +<p>Seth was growing exasperated.</p> + +<p>"If you don't intend to mind me, Willy Parlin, and carry back that iron, +I shall have to go and tell father."</p> + +<p>"Then you'll be a tell-tale, Mr. Seth."</p> + +<p>"Do you think I'll have my little brother grow up a thief?"</p> + +<p>"I wasn't a thief; but you're a tell-tale. You said, yesterday, little +boys mustn't tattle, and I guess big boys mustn't tattle, neither," +chuckled the aggravating Willy, dragging his basket of iron into the +kitchen.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Mother," said Seth, as Mrs. Parlin passed through the shed with a pan +of sour milk, "there's got to be something done with Willy; he has taken +to stealing."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Parlin set the pan upon a bench, and sank down on the meat-block, +too weak to stand.</p> + +<p>"I caught him just now, mother, lugging off a great basket full of old +iron; and if you don't go right in and stop him, he'll take it up to the +store to sell."</p> + +<p>"Is that all?" exclaimed Mrs. Parlin, drawing a deep breath. "Why, how +you frightened me! His father gave him leave to collect what old iron he +could find, and sell it to make up for the medal he lost the other day."</p> + +<p>"Well there, mother, I'm glad to hear it—that's a fact! But why didn't +the little<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</a></span> rogue tell me? I declare, he deserves a good whipping for +imposing upon me so."</p> + +<p>"He ought to have told you; but perhaps you spoke harshly to him, my +son. You know Willy can't bear that."</p> + +<p>"I don't think I was very harsh, mother. You wouldn't have me see the +child doing wrong, and not correct him—would you?"</p> + +<p>"His father and I are the ones to correct him," replied Mrs. Parlin. +"Willy has too many masters and mistresses. Next time you see him doing +what you think is wrong, let me know it, but don't scold him!"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Parlin had said this before, but it was something Seth never could +remember.</p> + +<p>Willy sold the iron, returned a bright new quarter to Miss Judkins, and +felt happy<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</a></span> again, especially as there were ten cents left, which his +father kindly allowed him to keep.</p> + +<p>Gideon Noonin never confessed his crime, and after this Willy was very +careful to keep away from him. But there was another boy, nearer his own +age, who had quite as bad an influence over him—Fred Chase. He +afterwards became a worthless young man, and made his mother so wretched +that Siller Noonin said, "Poor Mrs. Chase, she has everything heart can +wish, except a bottle to put her tears in."</p> + +<p>Fred was a well-mannered, pretty little fellow, and no one thought ill +of him, because he was so sly with his mischief. He did harm to Willy by +making him think he had a very hard time. His work was to bring in a +bushel basket of chips<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</a></span> every morning, and fill the "fore-room" +wood-box. Of course the "back-log" and "back-stick," and "fore-stick" +were all too heavy for his little arms, and Caleb attended to those. +Freddy had nothing whatever to do, and pretended to pity Willy.</p> + +<p>"They 'pose upon you," said he. "I never'd stand it."</p> + +<p>Until Freddy told him he was imposed upon, Willy had never suspected it; +but, after that, he saw he had nearly all the work to do, and that Seth +and Stephen did not help as much as they might. The more he reflected +upon the subject, the more unhappy he grew, and the more he lingered +over his wood and chips.</p> + +<p>"Did you ever hear of the little boy and the two pails of water?" said +his mother.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</a></span></p> + +<p>"O, what about him, mamma? Do tell me."</p> + +<p>"Why, the boy was told to draw two pails of water from the well; but +instead of drawing them he sat down and dreaded it, till he pined away, +and pined away, and finally died."</p> + +<p>Willy ran out with his basket, and never asked again to hear the story +of the boy and the two pails. But the wood-pile seemed to be lying on +top of his heart, crushing him, till he was relieved by a bright idea.</p> + +<p>Why not stand some sticks upright in the bottom of the box, and then lay +the rest of the wood on top of them? It would look just the same as +usual; but <i>what</i> a help!</p> + +<p>The box was in the entry, and the "fore-room"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</a></span> door shut; he could cheat +as well as not.</p> + +<p>"Now I'll have lots of time to play!"</p> + +<p>"What, you here yet, Willy?" said his mother, opening the door. She +thought he had been an unusually long while filling the box; and so he +had. It was new business, doing it in this way, and it took time.</p> + +<p>"I supposed you had gone, darling, for I didn't hear you whistle."</p> + +<p>Willy whistled faintly, as he laid on the last stick. How lucky his +mother hadn't opened the door sooner!</p> + +<p>"That's a nice big box full, my son. You please your mother this +morning. Come here and kiss me."</p> + +<p>Willy went, and then Mrs. Parlin, who was a fine singer, and knew a +great many ballads, sang, smiling,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</a></span>—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Ho! why dost thou shiver and shake,<br /></span> +<span class="i7">Gaffer Gray?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And why doth thy nose look so blue?"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>She often sang that when he came into the house cold, and then he would +sing in reply, with a voice almost as sweet as her own,—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i5">"'Tis the weather that's cold,<br /></span> +<span class="i5">'Tis I'm grown very old,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And my doublet is not very new,<br /></span> +<span class="i5">Well-a-day!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>But he was not in a musical mood this morning: he felt in a hurry to be +off; and giving his mother a hasty kiss, he bounded away without his +shingle-covered spelling-book, and had to come back after it.</p> + +<p>Foolish Willy! Did he think his mamma would not find out the deep-laid +plot, which had cost him so much labor? Children have no idea how bright +their parents<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</a></span> are! It was a very cold day in December, and as Mrs. +Parlin kept up a roaring fire, she came before noon to the upright +sticks standing in the wood-box, as straight as soldiers on a march. She +sighed a little, and smiled a little, but said not a word, for she was a +wise woman, was Mrs. Parlin.</p> + +<p>"Well, Willy boy," said she, when he came home from school, and had had +his supper of brown bread, baked apples, and milk, "come, let us have a +sing."</p> + +<p>There was nothing Willy and his mother enjoyed better than a "sing," she +holding him in her lap and rocking him the while. He put his whole soul +into the music, miscalling the Scotch words sometimes so charmingly that +it was a real delight to hear him. People often stopped at the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</a></span> +threshold, I am told, or at the open window in summer, to listen to the +clear childish voice in such ballads as,—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Fy! let us a' to the wedding,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For they will be lilting there;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For Jock's to be married to Maggie,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The lass wi' the gowden hair."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>To-night it was "Colin's Come to Town;" and Willy's tones rang sweet and +high,—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"His very step has music in't,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As he comes up the stair."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>"Did you ever hear the beat of that little chap for singing?" said +Caleb, in the bar-room, to Dr. Hilton and Mr. Griggs.</p> + +<p>Since that sad affair of the ox-money Caleb had loved Willy better than +ever, though it would be hard to tell why; perhaps because the child had +been so glad to see him come back again.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Bless him!" said Love, bringing the brass warming-pan into the +"fore-room," to fill it with coals at the fireplace. "Why, mother, I +never hear the name 'Willy,' but it makes me think of music. It sounds +as sweet as if you said 'nightingale.'"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Parlin answered by folding the singing-bird closer to her heart.</p> + +<p>"And do you know what the word 'Mother' makes me think of?—Of a great +large woman, always just ready to hug somebody."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Parlin laughed.</p> + +<p>"Yes, indeed it does. And it doesn't seem as if a small woman is really +fit to be called mother. There's Dorcas Lyman: when she says 'Mother' to +that little woman, it sounds so queer to me; for Mrs. Lyman isn't big +enough, you know."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</a></span></p> + +<p>"<i>Course</i> she isn't; not half big enough," said Willy. "I could 'most +lift her with my little finger. But, then, that baby—she's got a real +nice baby; wish she'd give Patty to me."</p> + +<p>Love smiled, and walked off, with her long-handled warming-pan, to heat +a traveller's bed in the icy north chamber.</p> + +<p>Willy's heart was full of tenderness for his mother, whom he kept +kissing fondly. Now was a good time to speak of the upright, deceitful +sticks of wood, perhaps; but Mrs. Parlin did not do it. She began the +Evening Hymn, and Willy sang with her:—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Glory to Thee, my God, this night,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For all the blessings of the light;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Keep me, O keep me, King of kings,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beneath thine own almighty wings.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Forgive me, Lord, for thy dear Son,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The ills which I this day have done,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That with the world, myself, and Thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I, ere I sleep, at peace may be."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>"Now, Willy," said Mrs. Parlin, pausing, "let us think a while, and try +to remember what we have done to-day that is wrong. You think, and I +will think, too."</p> + +<p>He looked up, and she knew by the cloud in his eyes that his conscience +was troubled.</p> + +<p>"Well, I'll think. But <i>you</i> haven't done anything wrong, mamma?"</p> + +<p>"O, yes, dear; many things."</p> + +<p>"Well, so've I, too. Want me to tell what?"</p> + +<p>"Not unless you choose, my child. Only be sure you tell God."</p> + +<p>They were silent a few moments.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</a></span></p> + +<p>"There, that's the <i>last</i> time I'll ever stand the sticks up on end in +the wood-box," burst forth Willy.</p> + +<p>"I thought so," said his mother, kissing him.</p> + +<p>So she had known about it all the while!</p> + +<p>But not another word did she say; and they went on with the hymn:—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Teach me to live, that I may dread<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The grave as little as my bed.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Teach me to die, that so I may<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Triumphing rise at the last day."<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</a></span></p> +<h2>CHAPTER VIII.</h2> + +<h3>"THE NEVER-GIVE-UPS."</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i5">"Now Christmas is come,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Let us beat up the drum,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And call our neighbors together;<br /></span> +<span class="i6">And when they appear,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Let us make them good cheer,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As will keep out the wind and the weather."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>This is what the old song says; but it is not the way the people of the +new colonies celebrated Christmas. Indeed, they thought it wrong to +observe it at all,—because their forefathers had come away from England +almost on purpose to get rid of the forms and ceremonies which hindered +their worship in the church over there.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</a></span></p> + +<p>The Parlins, however, saw no harm in celebrating the day of our +Saviour's birth, and Mrs. Parlin, who was an Episcopalian, always +instructed Love and the boys to trim the house with evergreens, and put +cedar crosses in the windows.</p> + +<p>Willy was glad whenever his grandfather Cheever happened to be visiting +them at "Christmas-tide," for then he was sure of a present. Mr. Cheever +was an Englishman of the old school, and prayed for King George. He wore +what were called "small clothes,"—that is, short breeches, which came +only to the knee, and were fastened there with a buckle,—silk +stockings, and a fine ruffled shirt. His hair was braided into a long +queue behind, which served Willy for a pair of reins, when he went +riding on the dear old gentleman's back.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</a></span></p> + +<p>I am not sure that Mr. Parlin was always glad to see grandpa Cheever, +for they differed entirely in politics, and that was a worse thing then +than it is now, if you can believe it. Mr. Parlin loved George +Washington, and grandpa said he was "only an upstart." Grandpa loved +King George, and Mr. Parlin said he was "only a crazy man."</p> + +<p>But Willy adored his grandfather, especially at holiday times; for +besides presents, they were sure to have games in the big dining-room, +such as blindfold, or "Wood-man blind," bob-apple, and snap-dragon.</p> + +<p>Then they always had a log brought in with great ceremony, called the +Yule log, the largest one that could be found in the shed; and when Seth +and Stephen came staggering in with it, grandpa Cheever,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</a></span> and Mrs. +Parlin, and Love, and Willy all struck up,—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">"Come, bring with a noise,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">My merry, merry boys,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Christmas log to the firing,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">While my good dame, she<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Bids ye all be free,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And drink to your hearts' desiring."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>The "good dame," I suppose, was Mrs. Parlin; and she gave them to drink, +it is true, but nothing stronger than metheglin, or egg nog, or flip. It +seems to me I can almost see her standing by the table, pouring it out +with a gracious smile. She was a handsome, queenly-looking woman, they +say, though rather too large round the waist you might think.</p> + +<p>Her father was a famous singer, as well as herself; and for my part I +should have enjoyed hearing some of their old songs,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</a></span> while the wind +went whistling round the house:—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Without the door let Sorrow lie,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And if for cold it hap to die,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We'll bury it in a Christmas pie,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And evermore be merry."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Or this one:—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Rejoice, our Saviour, he was born<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On Christmas day in the morning."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>But these were family affairs, these Christmas meetings. No one else in +Perseverance had anything to do with them, not even Caleb or Lydia.</p> + +<p>But the little boys in those days did not live without amusements, you +may be sure. Perhaps their choicest and most bewitching sport was +training. There had been one great war,—the war of the +Revolution,—and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</a></span> as people were looking for another,—which actually +came in 1812,—it was thought safe for men to be drilled in the practice +of marching and carrying fire-arms.</p> + +<p>In Perseverance, and many other towns, companies were formed, such as +the Light Infantry, or "String Bean Company," the Artillery, and the +"Troop." These met pretty often, and marched about the streets to the +sound of martial music.</p> + +<p>Of course the little boys could not see and hear of all this without a +swelling of the heart and a prancing of the feet; for they were rather +different from boys of these days! Hard indeed, thought they, if they +couldn't form a company too! As for music, what was to hinder them from +pounding it out of tin pans and pewter porringers? There is music in +everything,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</a></span> if you can only get it out. Chickens' wind-pipes, when well +dried, are very melodious, and so are whistles made of willow; and if +you are fond of variety, there are always bones to be had, and +dinner-horns, and jews-harps.</p> + +<p>Full of zeal for their country, the little boys on both sides of the +river met together and formed quite a large company. They had two trials +to begin with; firstly, they could not think of a name fine enough for +themselves; and secondly, they could not get any sort of uniform to +wear. Their mothers could not see the necessity of their having new +suits just to play in; and it seemed for some time as if the little +patriots would have to march forever in their old every-day clothes.</p> + +<p>"But they'll give us some new ones by<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</a></span> and by, boys," said Willy. "My +mother laughed last night, when I asked again, and that's a certain sure +sign."</p> + +<p>"O, I thought we'd given that up," said Fred Chase.</p> + +<p>"Look here, boys," exclaimed Willy; "I've thought of a name; it's the +'Never-Give-Ups.' All in favor say 'Ay'!"</p> + +<p>"Ay! ay!" piped all the lads; and it was a vote. Perhaps it was a year +before the Never-Give-Ups got their uniforms; but at last their mammas +saw the subject in a proper light, and stopped their work long enough to +dye some homespun suits dark blue, and trim them gorgeously with red.</p> + +<p>Willy's regimentals were not home-made; they were cut down from his +father's old ones; and he might have been too well pleased with them, +only Fred Chase's were<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</a></span> better yet, being new, with the first gloss on, +just as they had come from a store in the city of Boston.</p> + +<p>Fred was captain of the company. The boys had felt obliged in the very +beginning to have it so, on account of a beautiful instrument, given him +by his father, called a flageolet. True, Fred could not play on it at +all, and had to give it up to Willy; but it belonged to him all the +same.</p> + +<p>"Something's the matter with my lungs," said Fred, coughing; "and that's +why those little holes plague me so; it's too hard work to blow 'em."</p> + +<p>The boys looked at one another with wise nods and smiles. They did not +like Fred very well; but he was always pushing himself forward: and when +a boy has a great deal of self-esteem, and a brave suit<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</a></span> of clothes +right from Boston, how are you going to help yourselves, pray? So Fred +was captain, and Willy only a fifer.</p> + +<p>There was one boy in the ranks who caused some trouble—Jock Winter. Not +that Jock quarrelled, or did anything you could find fault with; but he +was simple-minded and a hunchback, and some of the boys made fun of him. +When Fred became captain he fairly hooted him out of the company. "No +fair! no fair!" cried Willy, Joshua Potter, the Lyman twins, and two +thirds of the other boys; but the captain had his way in spite of the +underground muttering.</p> + +<p>Saturday afternoon was the time for training. The Never-Give-Ups met at +the old red store kept by Daddy Wiggins, and paraded down the village +street, and across<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</a></span> the bridge, as far sometimes as the Dug Way, a +beautiful spot three or four miles from home. They were a goodly sight +to see,—the bright, healthy boys, straight as the "Quaker guns" they +carried, and marching off with a firm and manly tread.</p> + +<p>Mothers take a secret pride in their sons, and many loving eyes watched +this procession out of town; but the procession didn't know it, for the +mothers were very much afraid of flattering the boys. I think myself it +would have done the little soldiers no harm to be praised once in a +while. Indeed, I wish they might have heard the ladies of the village +talking about them, as they met to drink tea at Mrs. Parlin's. She never +went out herself, but often invited company to what they called little +"tea-junketings."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Well," said Mrs. Potter, the doctor's wife, "isn't it enough to do your +eyes good to see such a noble set of boys?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, it is," said Mrs. Griggs; "and I am not afraid for our country, if +they grow up as good men as they now bid fair to be."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Chase could not respond to this, for her boy Fred was a great +trial; his father indulged him too much, and she had had strong fears +that he might take to bad habits. But he was as handsome as any of the +boys, and she spoke up quickly:—</p> + +<p>"Yes, Mrs. Potter; as you say, they <i>are</i> a noble-looking set of boys; +and don't they march well?"</p> + +<p>"They waste a great deal of time; but then they might be doing worse, +and I like<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</a></span> to see boys enjoy themselves," said Mrs. Lyman, the greatest +worker in town.</p> + +<p>Her twins, George and Silas, ought to have heard that, for they thought +their mother did not care to see them do anything but delve.</p> + +<p>"Ah, bless their little hearts, we are all as proud of them as we can +be," said ruddy, fleshy Mrs. Parlin, brushing back her purple +cap-strings as she poured the tea. "My Willy, now, is the very apple of +my eye, and the little rogue knows it too."</p> + +<p>Yes, Willy did know it, for his mother was not afraid to tell him so. +The other boys had love doled out to them like wedding cake, as if it +were too rich and precious for common use; but Mrs. Parlin's love was +free and plenteous, and Willy lived on it like daily bread.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</a></span></p> + +<p>Kissing and petting were sure to spoil boys, so Elder Lovejoy's wife +thought; and she longed to say so to Mrs. Parlin; but somehow she +couldn't; for her little Isaac was not half as good as Willy, though he +hadn't been kissed much since he was big enough to go to school.</p> + +<p>"Willy's grandpa Cheever has sent him a splendid present," said Mrs. +Parlin; "it is a drum. His birthday will come next Wednesday; but when I +saw him marching off with Freddy's flageolet under his arm, I really +longed to give him the drum to-day."</p> + +<p>"I dare say you did," said Mrs. Lyman, warmly. "We mothers enjoy our +children's presents more than they enjoy them themselves."</p> + +<p>Then she and Mrs. Parlin exchanged a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</a></span> pleasant smile, for they two +understood each other remarkably well.</p> + +<p>Willy received his drum on the fifteenth of September, his tenth +birthday, and was prouder than General Washington at the surrender of +Lord Cornwallis. No more borrowed flageolets for him. He put so much +soul into the drumsticks that the noise was perfectly deafening. He +called the family to breakfast, dinner, and supper, to the tune of "Hail +Columbia," or "Fy! let us a' to the wedding!" and nearly distracted +Quaker Liddy by making her roll out her pie-crust to the exact time of +"Yankee Doodle."</p> + +<p>"I don't see the sense of such a con-tin-oo-al thumping, you little +dear," said she.</p> + +<p>"That's 'cause you're a Quaker," cried<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</a></span> Willy. "But I tell you while my +name's Willy Parlin this drum <i>shall</i> be heard."</p> + +<p>Poor Liddy stopped her ears.</p> + +<p>"What you smiling for, mother?" said Willy. "Are you pleased to think +you've got a little boy that can pound music so nice?"</p> + +<p>"Not exactly that, my son. I was wondering whether there is room enough +out of doors for that drum."</p> + +<p>"Why, mother!" exclaimed the little soldier much chagrined. "Why, +mother!"</p> + +<p>Everybody else had complained of the din; but he thought she, with her +fine musical taste, must be delighted. After this pointed slight he did +not pound so much in the house, and the animals got more benefit of the +noise. Towler enjoyed it hugely; and the cows might have kept<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</a></span> step to +the pasture every morning, and the hens every night to the roost, if +they had had the least ear for music. Siller Noonin, who believed in +witches, began to think the boy was "possessed." Love laughed, and said +she did not believe that; but she was afraid Willy spoke the truth every +day when he said so stoutly,—</p> + +<p>"While my name is Willy Parlin, this drum <i>shall</i> be heard."</p> + +<p>She wondered if parchment would ever wear out.</p> + +<p>He drummed with so much spirit that it had a strong effect on the little +training company. They had always liked him much better than Fred, and +were glad of an excuse now to make him their captain. A boy who could +fife so well, and drum so<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</a></span> well, ought to be promoted, they +thought—"All in favor say Ay!"</p> + +<p>Poor Fred was dismayed. He had always known he was unpopular; still he +had not expected this.</p> + +<p>"But how can <i>I</i> be captain?" replied Willy, ready to shout with +delight. "If I'm captain, who'll beat my drum?"</p> + +<p>"Isaac Lovejoy," was the quick reply.</p> + +<p>That settled it, and Willy said no more. He was now leader of the +company, and Fred Chase was obliged to walk behind him as first +lieutenant.</p> + +<p>But the moment Willy was promoted, and before they began to march, he +"took the stump," and made a stirring speech in favor of Jock Winter.</p> + +<p>"Now see here, boys," said he, leaning on his wooden gun, and looking +around<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</a></span> him persuasively. "'All men are born free and equal.' I s'pose +you know that? It's put down so in the Declaration of Independence!"</p> + +<p>"O, yes! Ay! Ay!"</p> + +<p>"Well, Jock Winter was born as free and equal as any of us; he wasn't +born a hunchback. But see here: wouldn't you be a hunchback yourself, +s'posing your father had let you fall down stairs when you was a baby? I +put it to you—now wouldn't you?"</p> + +<p>"Ay, ay," responded the boys.</p> + +<p>"Well; and s'pose folks made fun of you just for that; how would you +like it?"</p> + +<p>"Shouldn't like it at all."</p> + +<p>"But then Jock's just about half witted," put in Fred, faintly. He knew +his power was gone, but he wanted to say something.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Well, what if he is half-witted? He thinks more of his country than you +do; twice more, and risk it."</p> + +<p>"That's so," cried Joshua Potter. "Fred says if there's another war, +<i>he</i> won't go; he never'll stand up for a mark to be shot at, at eleven +dollars a month!"</p> + +<p>"O, for shame!" exclaimed the captain.</p> + +<p>"Now you hush up," said Fred, reddening. "I was only in fun—of course I +was! You needn't say anything, Will Parlin; a boy that has a <i>Tory +drum</i>!"</p> + +<p>"It's a good Whig drum as ever lived!" returned Willy. "But come, now, +boys; will we have Jock Winter?"</p> + +<p>It was a vote; and the Never-Give-Ups went over the river in a body to +invite him. He lived in a log-house with his grandfather, and a negro +servant known<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</a></span> as Joe Whitehead. Old Mr. Winter was aroused from his +afternoon nap by the terrific beating of the drum, and thought the +British were coming down upon him.</p> + +<p>"Joe! Joe!" cried he. "Get your scythe, Joe, and mow 'em down as fast as +they come!"</p> + +<p>When the little boys heard of this, it amused them greatly. Mistaken for +the British army, indeed! Well, now, that was something worth while!</p> + +<p>A happier soul than little, simple, round-shouldered Jock you never saw, +unless it was his poor old grandfather. He could keep step with the best +of them; but unfortunately he had no decent clothes. This was a great +drawback, but Mrs. Parlin and Mrs. Lyman took pity on the boy, and made +him a nice suit.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</a></span></p> +<h2>CHAPTER IX.</h2> + +<h3>THE MUSTER.</h3> + + +<p>Willy proved to have fine powers as a leader. Like the famous John +Gilpin,</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"A train-band captain eke was he,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Of credit and renown,"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>and the Never-Give-Ups became such an orderly, well-trained company, +that some of the rich fathers made them the present of a small cannon.</p> + +<p>Do you know what a wonderful change that made in the condition of +things? Well, I will tell you. They became at once an Artillery Company! +Not poor little infantry any more, but great, brave artillery!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</a></span></p> + +<p>Every man among them cast aside his Quaker gun with contempt, and wore a +cut-and-thrust sword, made out of the sharpest kind of wood. An +Artillery Company,—think of that! The boys threw up their caps, and +Willy sang,—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Come, fill up my cup, come, fill up my can;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Come, saddle your horses, and call up your men!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Come, open the west port, and let us gang free,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And it's room for the bonnets of Bonny Dundee!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>There was to be a General Muster that fall, and if you suppose the +Perseverance boys had thought of anything else since the Fourth of July, +that shows how little you know about musters.</p> + +<p>A muster, boys—Well, I never saw a muster, myself; but it must have +been something like this:—</p> + +<p>A mixture of guns and gingerbread; men and music; horses and hard +cider.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[Pg 136]</a></span></p> + +<p>It was very exciting,—I know that. There were plumes dancing, flags +waving, cannons firing, men marching, boys screaming, dogs barking; and +women looking on in their Sunday bonnets.</p> + +<p>The "Sharp-shooters" and the "String Beans" were there from Cross Lots; +the Artillery from Harlow; the "Pioneers," in calico frocks, with wooden +axes, from Camden; and all the infantry and cavalry from the whole +country round about.</p> + +<p>Seth Parlin belonged to the cavalry, or "troop," and made a fine figure +on horseback. Willy secretly wondered if he would look as well when <i>he</i> +grew up.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Saddled and bridled and booted rode he,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A plume at his helmet,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A sword at his knee."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>It seemed to be the general impression<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</a></span> that the muster would do the +country a great deal of good. The little artillery company, called the +Never-Give-Ups, were on the ground before any one else, their cheeks +painted with clear, cold air, and their hearts bursting with patriotism. +As a rule, children were ordered out of the way; but as the little +Never-Give-Ups had a cannon, they were allowed to march behind the large +companies, provided they would be orderly and make no disturbance.</p> + +<p>"Boys," said Willy, sternly,—for he felt all the importance of the +occasion,—"boys, remember, George Washington was the Father of his +Country; so you've got to behave."</p> + +<p>The boys remembered "the father of his country" for a while, but before +the close of the afternoon forgot him entirely. There<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</a></span> were several +stalls where refreshments were to be had,—such as cakes, apples, +molasses taffy, sugar candy, and cider by the mugful, not to mention the +liquors, which were quite too fiery for the little Never-Give-Ups.</p> + +<p>At every halt in the march the boys bought something to eat or drink. +There had been a barrel of cider brought from Mr. Chase's for their +especial use, and Fred sold it out to the boys for four cents a glass. +This was a piece of extraordinary meanness in him, for his father had +intended the cider as a present to the company. The boys did not know +this, however, and paid their money in perfect good faith.</p> + +<p>"Hard stuff," said Willy, draining his mug. "I don't like it much."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Why, it's tip-top," returned Fred. "My father says it's the best he +ever saw."</p> + +<p>Mr. Chase had never said anything of the sort. He had merely ordered his +colored servant, Pompey, to put a barrel of cider on the wheelbarrow, +and take it to the muster-ground. Whether Pompey and Fred had selected +this one for its age I cannot tell, but the boys all declared it was "as +hard as a stone wall."</p> + +<p>Dr. Hilton, who seemed to be everywhere at once, heard them say that, +and exclaimed,—</p> + +<p>"Then I wouldn't drink any more of it, boys. Hard cider does make +anybody dreadful cross. Better let it alone."</p> + +<p>I fear the boys did not follow this advice, for certain it is that they +grew outrageously cross. The trouble began, I believe,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</a></span> with Abram +Noonin, who suddenly declared he wouldn't march another step with Jock +Winter. As the marching was all done for the day, Abram might as well +have kept quiet.</p> + +<p>"Yes, you shall march with Jock Winter, too," said Captain Willy, +exasperated with the throbbing pain in his head—the first he had ever +felt in his life. "Pretty doings, if you are going to set up and say, 'I +will' and 'I won't!'"</p> + +<p>While the captain and the private were shooting sharp words back and +forth, and Fred was busy drawing cider, Isaac Lovejoy, the rogue of the +company, was very busy with his own mischief.</p> + +<p>"Look here, Fred," said Joshua Potter, going up to the stall with a +twinkle in his eye; "they don't ask but three cents a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</a></span> mug, round at the +other end of the barrel!"</p> + +<p>"What do you mean by that?" cried the young cider merchant, looking up +just in time to see Isaac Lovejoy marching off with the pitcher he had +been filling from a hole in the barrel made with his jack-knife.</p> + +<p>"Stop thief! Stop thief!" cried Fred.</p> + +<p>"That's right," said one of the big boys from over the river. "Ike's +selling your cider to the men for three cents a glass."</p> + +<p>Perhaps this was one of Isaac's jokes, and he intended to give back the +money; we will hope so. But, be that as it may, Fred was terribly angry; +as angry, mind you, as if he was an honest boy himself, and had a +perfect right to all the coppers jingling in his own pockets!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</a></span></p> + +<p>He ran after Ike, and caught him; and there was a scuffle, in which the +pitcher was broken. Mr. Chase came up to inquire into it.</p> + +<p>"Tut, tut, Isaac!" said he; "aren't you ashamed? You know that cider was +a present to the Never-Give-Ups."</p> + +<p>The boys were astonished, and Fred's face crimsoned with shame. As soon +as Mr. Chase had gone away, Willy exclaimed, with a sudden burst of +wrath,—</p> + +<p>"Well, boys, if you are going to stand such a mean lieutenant as that, I +won't! If he stays in lieutenant, I won't stay captain—so there!"</p> + +<p>"Three cheers for the captain!" cried the boys; and there was another +uproar.</p> + +<p>And how did Fred feel towards the fearless, out-spoken Willy? Very +angry, of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[Pg 143]</a></span> course; but, if you will believe me, he respected him more +than ever. Pompous boys are often mean-spirited and cowardly; they will +browbeat those who are afraid of them; but those who look down on them +and despise them, they hold in the highest esteem. Willy had never +scrupled to tell Fred just what he thought of his conduct; and for that +very reason Fred liked him better than any other boy in town.</p> + +<p>But the Never-Give-Ups were growing decidedly noisy. After they learned +that the cider was their own, they must drink more of it, whether they +wanted it or not. The consequence was, they soon began to act +disgracefully.</p> + +<p>"Can't you have peace there, you young scamps?" said one of the big boys +from over the river.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[Pg 144]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Yes, we will have peace if we have to fight for it," replied the +captain, who had drawn the little hunchback Jock to his side, and was +darting glances at Abe Noonin as sharp as a cut-and-thrust sword.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Chase," said Dr. Hilton, struck with a new idea, "those boys act as +if they were drunk."</p> + +<p>"Why, how can they be?" returned Mr. Chase; "they've had nothing to +drink but innocent cider."</p> + +<p>"Any way," cried the doctor, "they are getting up a regular mob, and we +shall have to <i>quail</i> it!"</p> + +<p>Too true: it was necessary to quell the Never-Give-Ups, that orderly +artillery company, the pride of the town! Quell it, and order it off the +grounds!</p> + +<p>Dire disgrace! Their steps were unsteady<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</a></span> and slow; their heads were +bowed, but not with grief, for, to say the truth, they did not fully +comprehend the situation.</p> + +<p>"The little captain is the furthest gone of any of them," said Dr. +Hilton. Indeed, before he reached home he was unable to walk, and +Stephen carried him into the house in his arms. Not that Willy had drunk +so much as some of the others, but it had affected him more.</p> + +<p>Poor Mrs. Parlin! She had to know what was the matter with her boy; and +the shock was so great that she went to bed sick, and Mr. Parlin sent +for the doctor.</p> + +<p>When Willy came to his senses next morning, there was a guilty feeling +hanging over him, and his head ached badly. He<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</a></span> crept down stairs, and +fixed his gaze first on the sanded floor of the kitchen, then on the +dresser full of dishes; but to look any one in the face he was ashamed. +His mother was not at the table, and they ate almost in silence.</p> + +<p>"Now, young man," said Mr. Parlin, after breakfast, "you may walk out to +the barn with me." Willy had a dim idea that he had done something +wrong; but exactly what it was he could not imagine. He remembered +scolding Abe Noonin for hurting little Jock's feelings; was that what he +was to be punished for?</p> + +<p>Willy did not know he had been intoxicated. He was sure he did not like +that cider, yesterday, and had taken only a little of it. He supposed he +had eaten too much, and that was what had made him sick.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Off with your jacket, young man!"</p> + +<p>Old Dick neighed, Towler growled, the sheep bleated; it seemed as if +they were all protesting against Willy's being whipped.</p> + +<p>"Now, sir," said Mr. Parlin, after a dozen hearty lashes, "shall I ever +hear of your getting drunk again?"</p> + +<p>"Why, father! I didn't—O, I didn't! I only took some cider—just two +mugfuls!" gasped Willy; "that's all; and you know you always <i>let</i> me +drink cider."</p> + +<p>"Two mugfuls!" groaned Mr. Parlin, distressed at what he considered a +wilful lie; and the blows fell heavier and faster, while Willy's face +whitened, and his teeth shut together hard. Mr. Parlin had never acted +from purer motives; still Willy felt that the punishment was not just, +and it only served to call up what the boys termed his "Indian sulks."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</a></span></p> + +<p>Angry and smarting with pain in mind and body, he walked off that +afternoon to the old red store. Fred was sitting under a tree, chewing +gum.</p> + +<p>"Had to take it, I guess, Billy?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, an awful whipping," replied Willy; "did you?"</p> + +<p>"Me? Of course not. Do you know how I work it? When father takes down +the cowhide, I look him right in the eye, and that scares him out of it. +He <i>darsn't</i> flog me!"</p> + +<p>This was a downright lie. Fred was as great a coward as ever lived, and +screamed at sight of a cowhide. He had been whipped for cheating about +the cider, but would not tell Willy so.</p> + +<p>Willy looked at him with surprise and something like respect. He could +never<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</a></span> seem to learn that Freddy's word was not to be trusted.</p> + +<p>"Well, I'll do so next time," cried he, his eyes flashing fire.</p> + +<p>"Look here," said Fred, crossing his knees, and looking important; +"let's run away."</p> + +<p>"Why, Fred Chase! 'Twould be wicked!"</p> + +<p>"'Twouldn't, either. Things ain't wicked when folks don't catch you at +it; and we can go where folks won't catch us, now I promise you."</p> + +<p>Willy's heart leaped up with a strange joy. He would not run away, but +if Fred had a plan he wanted to hear it.</p> + +<p>"Why, where could we go?"</p> + +<p>"To sea."</p> + +<p>"Poh! our Caleb got flogged going to sea."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</a></span></p> + +<p>"O, well, Captain Cutter never flogs. He's a nice man,—lives down to +Casco Bay. And of all the oranges that ever you saw, and the guava +jelly, and the pine-apples! he's always sending them to mother."</p> + +<p>"I never ate a pine-apple."</p> + +<p>"Didn't you? Well, come, let's go; Captain Cutter will be real glad to +see us; come, to-night; he'll treat us first rate."</p> + +<p>"'My son, if sinners entice thee, consent thou not.'"</p> + +<p>It seemed as if Willy could hear his mother saying the words.</p> + +<p>"You and I are the best kind of friends, Willy. We'd have a real nice +time, and come home when we got ready."</p> + +<p>Willy did not respond to this. He did not care very much about +Fred,—nobody<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</a></span> did,—and if he should be persuaded to go with him, it +would not be from friendship, most certainly.</p> + +<p>"I wouldn't go off and leave mother; 'twould be real mean: but sometimes +I don't like father one bit,—now, that's a fact," burst forth Willy, +with a heaving breast. "I told him I didn't like your cider, and didn't +take but two mugfuls; but he didn't believe a word I said."</p> + +<p>"You're a fool to stand it, Billy."</p> + +<p>"I won't stand it again—so there!"</p> + +<p>"There, that's real Injun grit," said Fred, approvingly; "stick to it."</p> + +<p>"Father thinks children are foolish; he hates to hear 'em talk," pursued +Willy; "and then, when you don't talk, he says you're sulky."</p> + +<p>"Well, if you go off he won't get a chance to say it again."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</a></span></p> + +<p>"O, but you see, Fred—"</p> + +<p>"Pshaw! you <i>darsn't</i>!"</p> + +<p>"Now, <i>you're</i> not the one to call me a coward, Fred Chase."</p> + +<p>"Well, if you <i>dars</i>, then come on."</p> + +<p>Willy did not answer. He was deliberating; and I wish you to understand +that in a case like this "the child that deliberates is lost."</p> + +<p>Without listening to any more of the boys' conversation, we will go +right on to the next chapter, and see what comes of it.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</a></span></p> +<h2>CHAPTER X.</h2> + +<h3>GOING TO SEA.</h3> + + +<p>Seven o'clock was the time appointed to meet, and Willy watched the tall +clock in the front entry with a dreadful sinking at the heart. His +mother was not at the supper-table and he was glad of that. Ever since +muster she had staid in her room, suffering from a bad toothache. As her +face was tied up, and she could not talk, Willy was not quite sure how +she felt.</p> + +<p>"How can I tell whether she has been crying or not? Her eyes are +swelled, any way. Perhaps she doesn't care much. She used to love me, +but she thinks I act so<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</a></span> bad now that it's no use doing anything with +me. I can't make her understand it at all."</p> + +<p>It was a pity he thought of his mother just then, for it was hard +enough, before that, swallowing his biscuit.</p> + +<p>"She said to me, out in the orchard, one day,—says she, 'Willy, if a +boy wants to do wrong, he'll find some way to do it;' and I s'pose she +was thinking about me when she said it. S'pose she thinks I'm going to +be bad—mother does. Well, then, I ought to go off out of the way; she +doesn't want me here; what does she want of a bad boy? She'll be glad to +get rid of me; so'll Love."</p> + +<p>You see what a hopeless tangle Willy's mind was in. What ailed his +biscuit he could not imagine, but it tasted as dry as ashes.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Why, sonny," said Stephen, "what are you staring at your plate so for? +That's honey. Ever see any before?"</p> + +<p>"This is the last chance Steve will have to pester me," thought the +child; and he almost pitied him.</p> + +<p>"Guess he'll feel sorry he's been so hard on a little fellow like me."</p> + +<p>As for grown-up Seth, it was certain that <i>his</i> conscience would prick, +and on the whole Willy was rather glad of it, for Seth had no right to +correct him so much. "Only eighteen, and not my father either!"</p> + +<p>Willy did not think much about himself, and how he would be likely to +feel after he had left this dear old home—the home where every +knot-hole in the floor was precious. It would not do to brood over that; +and besides, there was sullen anger<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</a></span> enough in his heart to crowd out +every other feeling.</p> + +<p>There were circles in the wood of the shed-door which he had made with a +two-tined fork; and after supper he made some more, while waiting for a +chance to pocket a plate of doughnuts. Of course it wasn't wrong to take +doughnuts, when it was the last morsel he should ever eat from his +mother's cupboard. He had the whole of eighteen cents in his leathern +wallet; but that sum might fail before winter, and it was best to take a +little food for economy's sake.</p> + +<p>At quarter of seven he put on his cap, and was leaving the house, when +his father said, severely,—</p> + +<p>"Where are you going, young man?"</p> + +<p>Mr. Parlin did not mean to be severe,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</a></span> but he usually called Willy a +"young man" when he was displeased with him.</p> + +<p>"Going to the post-office, sir, just as I always do."</p> + +<p>Willy spoke respectfully,—he had never done otherwise to his +father,—and Mr. Parlin little suspected the tempest that was raging in +the child's bosom.</p> + +<p>"Very well; go! but don't be gone long."</p> + +<p>"'<i>Long?</i>' Don't know what he calls long," thought the little boy. +"P'raps I'll be gone two years; p'raps I'll be gone ten. Calls me a +'young man' after he has whipped me. Guess I <i>will</i> be a young man +before I get back! Guess there won't be any more horsewhippings then!"</p> + +<p>And, dizzy with anger, he walked fast to the post office, without +turning his head.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</a></span></p> + +<p>Fred was there, anxiously waiting for him. The two boys greeted each +other with a meaning look, and soon began to move slowly along towards +the guide-board at the turn of the road.</p> + +<p>To the people who happened to be looking that way, it seemed natural +enough that Willy and Fred should be walking together. If anybody +thought twice about the matter, it was Dr. Hilton; and I dare say he +supposed they were swapping jack-knives.</p> + +<p>As soon as they were fairly out of sight of the village, Fred said, +sneeringly,—</p> + +<p>"Well, I've been waiting most half an hour—I suppose you know. Began to +think you'd sneaked out of it, Bill."</p> + +<p>There is an insult in the word 'sneak' that no boy of spirit can bear, +and Willy was in no mood to be insulted.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Fred Chase," said he, bristling, "I'll give you one minute to take that +back."</p> + +<p>"O, I didn't mean anything, Billy; only you was so awful slow, you +know."</p> + +<p>"Slow, Fred Chase! You needn't call <i>me</i> slow! Bet you I can turn round +three times while you're putting out one foot."</p> + +<p>It is plain enough, from the tone of this conversation, that the boys +had not started out with that friendly feeling, which two travellers +ought to have for each other, who are intending to take a long journey +in company. Fred saw it would not do for Willy to be so cross in the +very beginning. He had had hard work to get the boy's consent to go, and +now, for fear he might turn back, he suddenly became very pleasant.</p> + +<p>"Look here, Billy; you can beat me running;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[Pg 160]</a></span> I own up to that; but we've +got to keep together, you know. Don't you get ahead of me—now will +you?"</p> + +<p>"I'll try not to," replied Willy, somewhat softened; "but you do get out +of breath as easy as a chicken."</p> + +<p>"Most time to begin to run?" said Fred, after they had trudged on for +some time at a moderate pace.</p> + +<p>"No; there's a man coming this way," replied the sharper-eyed Willy.</p> + +<p>"O, yes; I see him now. Who suppose it is?"</p> + +<p>"Why, Dr. Potter, of course. Don't you know him by his <i>shappo brar</i>?"</p> + +<p>The <i>chapeau bras</i> was a three-cornered hat, the like of which you and I +have never seen, except in very old pictures.</p> + +<p>As Dr. Potter met the boys, he shook<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</a></span> his ivory-headed cane, and said, +playfully, "Good evening, my little men."</p> + +<p>"Good evening, sir."</p> + +<p>But it was certainly a bad evening inside their hearts, sulky and dark.</p> + +<p>"What if Dr. Potter should tell where he met us?" exclaimed Fred. "Lucky +'twasn't Dr. Hilton.—There, he's out of the way; now let's run."</p> + +<p>They were on the road to Cross Lots, a town about five miles from +Perseverance. They had not as yet marked out their course very clearly, +but thought after they should reach Cross Lots it would be time enough +to decide what to do next.</p> + +<p>They ran with all their might, but did not make the speed they desired, +for they jumped behind the fences whenever they heard a wagon coming, +and were obliged<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</a></span> to stop often, besides, for Freddy to take breath. By +the time they reached Cross Lots—a thriving little town with a +saw-mill—it was pretty late; and if it had not been for the bright +light of the moon and stars, they might have been a little disheartened.</p> + +<p>They took a seat on a stump near the saw-mill, and prepared to talk over +the situation. A lonesome feeling had suddenly come upon them, which +caused them to gaze wistfully upon the "happy autumn fields" and the +far-off sky.</p> + +<p>"Stars look kind o' shiny—don't they?" said Fred, heaving a sigh.</p> + +<p>Willy forced a gay tone.</p> + +<p>"What s'pose makes 'em keep up such a winking? Like rows of pins, you +know,—gold pins; much as a million of 'em,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</a></span> and somebody sticking 'em +into a great blue cushion up there, and keeps a-sticking 'em in, but out +they come again."</p> + +<p>"I never heard of such a silly idea in my life," sneered Fred. +"Pins!—H'm!"</p> + +<p>"Why, can't you tell when a fellow's in fun, Fred Chase? Thought I meant +real pins—did you? The stars are worlds, and I guess I know it as well +as you do."</p> + +<p>"Worlds? A likely story, Bill Parlin! Mother has said so lots of times, +but you don't stuff such a story down <i>my</i> throat."</p> + +<p>"Don't believe your mother!" exclaimed Willy, astonished. "Why, I always +believe my mother. She never made a mistake in her life."</p> + +<p>Fred laughed.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[Pg 164]</a></span></p> + +<p>"She don't know any more'n anybody else, you ninny! only you think so +because she makes such a baby of you."</p> + +<p>Willy reddened with sudden shame, but retorted sharply,—</p> + +<p>"Stop that! You shan't say a word against my mother."</p> + +<p>"But you let me talk about your father, though. What's the difference?"</p> + +<p>"Lots. You may talk about father as much as you've a mind to," said +Willy, scowling; "for he no business to whip me so. He thinks boys are +pretty near fools."</p> + +<p>"That's just what my father thinks," returned Fred.</p> + +<p>Whereupon the two boys were friends again, having got back to their one +point of agreement.</p> + +<p>"If I had a boy I wouldn't treat him<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[Pg 165]</a></span> so,—now I tell you," said Willy, +clinching his little fists. "I'd let him have a good time when he's +young."</p> + +<p>"So'd I!"</p> + +<p>"For when he's old he won't want to have a good time."</p> + +<p>"That's so."</p> + +<p>"And I wouldn't be stingy to him; I'd let him have all the money he +could spend."</p> + +<p>"So'd I," responded the ungrateful Fred, who had probably had more +dollars given him to throw away than any other boy in the county.</p> + +<p>"I'd treat a boy real well. I wouldn't make him work as tight as he +could put in," pursued Willy, overcome with dreadful recollections.</p> + +<p>"Nor I, neither! Guess I wouldn't!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[Pg 166]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Poh! what do you know about it, Fred? Your father's rich, and don't +keep a pig!"</p> + +<p>"What if he don't? What hurt does a pig do?"</p> + +<p>"Why, you have to carry out swill to 'em. Then there's the wood-box, and +there's the corn to husk, and the cows to bring up! It makes a fellow +ache all over."</p> + +<p>"No worse'n errands, Bill! Guess you never came any nearer blistering +your feet than I did last summer, time we had so much company. Mother's +a case for thinking up errands."</p> + +<p>"Well, Fred, we've started to run away."</p> + +<p>"Should think it's likely we had."</p> + +<p>"I'm going 'cause I can't stand it to be whipped any more; but you don't +get<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[Pg 167]</a></span> whipped, Fred. What are <i>you</i> going for?"</p> + +<p>"Why, to seek my fortune," replied Fred, spitting, in a manly fashion, +into a clump of smartweed. "Always meant to, you know, soon's I got so I +could take care of myself; and now I can cipher as far as +<i>substraction</i>, what more does a fellow want?"</p> + +<p>"Don't believe you can spell 'phthisic,' though."</p> + +<p>As this remark had nothing to do with the case in point, Fred took no +notice of it. What if he couldn't spell as well as Willy? He was a year +and a half older, and had the charge of this expedition.</p> + +<p>"Which way you mean to point, Billy?"</p> + +<p>"Why, I thought we were going to sea. That's what you said; and I put a +lot of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[Pg 168]</a></span> nutcakes in my pocket to eat 'fore we got to the ship."</p> + +<p>"You did? Well, give us some, then, for I'm about starved."</p> + +<p>"So'm I, too."</p> + +<p>And one would hardly have doubted it, to see them both eat. The +doughnuts were sweet and spicy, and cheering to the spirits; the young +travellers did not once stop to consider that they might need them more +by and by. Children are not, as a general rule, very deeply concerned +about the future. Birds of the air may have some idea where to-morrow's +dinner is coming from; but these boys neither knew nor cared.</p> + +<p>"First rate," remarked Fred, as the last doughnut disappeared. "But I +don't know about going to sea. It's plaguy tough work climbing ropes, +they say, and I heard of a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[Pg 169]</a></span> boy that got whipped so hard he jumped +overboard."</p> + +<p>"Let's not go, then," cried Willy.</p> + +<p>"Catch me!" said Fred. "I've been thinking of the lumb'ring business. +They make money fast as you can wink up there to the Forks."</p> + +<p>"Let's go lumbering, then."</p> + +<p>"Guess we will, Billy. You see the trees don't cost anything,—they grow +wild,—and all you've got to do is to chop 'em down."</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Willy, "and we need red shirts for that. I never chopped a +tree's I know of. Could, though, if I had a sharp axe. Guess I could, I +mean,—I mean if the tree wasn't <i>too</i> big!"</p> + +<p>"O, we shan't chop 'em ourselves," said Fred, spitting grandly. "Wasn't +my father<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[Pg 170]</a></span> a lumberman once, and got rich by it? But did <i>he</i> ever cut +down a tree? What's the use? Hire men, you know."</p> + +<p>"O!" exclaimed Willy. But a gleam of common sense striking him next +moment, he added, "but the money; where'll we get that?"</p> + +<p>"O, we'll get it after a while," replied Fred, vaguely. "My father was a +poor boy once. Fact! I've heard him tell about it. Nothing but tow-cloth +breeches, and wale-cloth jacket, off there to Groton. And he made butter +tubs and potash tubs, sir. And he took his pay in beaver skins. And then +he went afoot to Boston, and he rolled a barrel of lime round the Falls, +sir. I've heard him tell it five million times. And my aunt Tempy, she +rode a-horseback three hundred miles to Concord.—O,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[Pg 171]</a></span> poh! there's lots +of ways to make money, if you try. And once he took his pay in +potash,—my father did; and he sold tobacco. O, there's ways enough to +make money if you keep your eyes open; that's what my father says."</p> + +<p>Willy's eyes were open enough, if that were all. At any rate, he was +trying his very best to keep them open. Half of his mind was sleepy, and +half of it very wide awake indeed. There was something so inspiring in +Fred's confident tone. Rather misty his plans might be as yet; but +hadn't Willy heard, ever since he could remember, that people were sure +to succeed if they were only "up and doing?"</p> + +<p>"Come, let's start," said he, rising eagerly, as the bell rang for nine. +"If we are<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[Pg 172]</a></span> going to the Forks we must go to Harlow first; I know that +much."</p> + +<p>And turning the corner at the left, the two wise little pilgrims set out +upon their travels,—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Strange countries for to see."<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[Pg 173]</a></span></p> +<h2>CHAPTER XI.</h2> + +<h3>TO THE FORKS.</h3> + + +<p>Willy started upon the run; but Fred, as soon as he could overtake him, +and speak for puffing, exclaimed,—</p> + +<p>"Now, Will Parlin, what's the use? We've got a good start, and let's +take it fair and easy."</p> + +<p>This was the most sensible remark Fred had made for the evening. Lazy +and good-for-nothing as he was, he had spoken the truth for once. If +they were ever to arrive at the Forks, they were likely to do it much +sooner by walking than running. Willy did not understand this. Being as<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[Pg 174]</a></span> +lithe as a young deer, he preferred "bounding over the plains" to +lagging along with such a slow walker as Fred.</p> + +<p>The town of Harlow was twelve miles away, and it was Fred's opinion that +they should reach it in season for an early breakfast.</p> + +<p>"I've got two dollars in my pocket," said he, "and I guess we shan't +starve <i>this</i> fall."</p> + +<p>Willy thought of the eighteen cents he had been six weeks in saving, but +was ashamed to speak of such a small sum.</p> + +<p>"Well, we shan't get to Harlow, or any where else, till day after +to-morrow afternoon, if you don't hurry up," said he, impatiently. "You +say you can't run, but I should think you might do as much as to march. +Now, come,—left, foot out,—while I whistle."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[Pg 175]</a></span></p> + +<p>Fred tried his best, but he was one of the few boys born with "no music +in his soul," and he could not keep step.</p> + +<p>"What's the matter with you, Fred Chase?"</p> + +<p>"Don't know. Guess you haven't got the right tune."</p> + +<p>Willy stopped short in "Come, Philander," and turned it into "Hail, +Columbia;" but it made no difference. "Roy's Wife," or "Fy! let us a' to +the wedding," was as good as anything else. Fred took long steps or +short steps, just as it happened, and Willy never had understood, and +could not understand now, what did ail Fred's feet; it was very +tiresome, indeed.</p> + +<p>"Look here: what tune have I been whistling now? See if you know?"</p> + +<p>"Why, that's—that's—some kind of a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[Pg 176]</a></span> dancing tune. Can't think. O, yes; +'Old Hundred.'"</p> + +<p>"Fred Chase!" thundered Willy; "that's <i>'Yankee Doodle</i>!' Anybody that +don't know Yankee Doodle <i>must</i> be a fool!"</p> + +<p>"Why, look here now: I know Yankee Doodle as well as you do, Will +Parlin, only you didn't whistle it right!"</p> + +<p>At another time Willy would have been quick to laugh at such an absurd +remark; but now, tired as he was, it made him downright angry. He +stopped whistling, and did not speak again for five minutes. Meanwhile +he began to grow very sleepy.</p> + +<p>"Wish we were going to battle," said Fred at last, for the sake of +breaking the silence. "I'd like to be in a good fight; that is, if they +had decent music. I could march to a fife and drum first rate."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[Pg 177]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Could, hey! Then why didn't you ever do it?"</p> + +<p>"Do you mean to say I don' know how to march? Know how as well as you +do."</p> + +<p>"Think's likely," snarled Willy, "for <i>I</i> can't march if I have <i>you</i> to +march with. Can't keep step with anybody that ain't bright!"</p> + +<p>"Nor I can't, either, Will Parlin; that's why I can't keep step with +you."</p> + +<p>"Well, then, go along to the other side of the road—will you? I won't +have you here with your hippity-hop, hippity-hop."</p> + +<p>"Go to the other side of the road your own self, and see how you like +it," retorted Fred. "I won't have <i>you</i> here, with your tramp, tramp, +tramp."</p> + +<p>Was ever anybody so provoking as Fred? Willy had an impulse to give him +a hard<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[Pg 178]</a></span> push; but before he could extend his arm to do it, he had +forgotten what they were quarrelling about. That strange sleepiness had +drowned every other feeling, and Fred's "tramp, tramp, tramp," spoken in +such drawling tones, had fairly caused his eyes to draw together.</p> + +<p>"Guess I'll drop down here side of the road, and rest a minute," said +he.</p> + +<p>"So'll I," said Fred, always ready for a halt if not for a march.</p> + +<p>But it was a cold night. As soon as they had thrown themselves upon the +faded grass they began to feel the pinchings of the frost.</p> + +<p>"None of your dozing yet a while," said Fred, who, though tired, was not +as sleepy as Willy. "We must push along till we get to a barn or +something."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[Pg 179]</a></span></p> + +<p>Willy rose to his feet, promptly.</p> + +<p>"Look up here and show us your eyes, Billy. I've just thought of +something. How do I know but you're sound asleep this minute? Generally +sleep with your eyes open—don't you—and walk round too, just the +same?"</p> + +<p>Fred said this with a cruel laugh. He knew Willy was very sensitive on +the subject of sleep-walking, and he was quite willing to hurt his +feelings. Why shouldn't he be? Hadn't Willy hurt <i>his</i> feelings by +making those cutting remarks in regard to music? As for the Golden Rule, +Master Fred was not the boy to trouble himself about that; not in the +least.</p> + +<p>"I haven't walked in my sleep since I was a small boy," said Willy, +trying his best to force back the tears; "and I don't<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[Pg 180]</a></span> think it's fair +to plague me about it now."</p> + +<p>"Well, then, you needn't plague me for not keeping step to your old +whistling. If you want to know what the reason is I can't keep step, +I'll tell you; it's because my feet are sore. They've been tender ever +since I blistered 'em last summer."</p> + +<p>Willy was too polite this time, or perhaps too sleepy, to contradict.</p> + +<p>It did seem as if the road to Harlow was the longest, and the hills the +steepest, ever known.</p> + +<p>"Call it twelve miles—it's twenty!" said Fred, beginning to limp.</p> + +<p>"Would be twenty-five," said Willy, "if the hills were rolled out +smooth."</p> + +<p>They trudged on as bravely as they could, but, in spite of the cold, had +to stop<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[Pg 181]</a></span> now and then to rest, and by the time they had gone eight miles +it seemed as if they could hold out no longer.</p> + +<p>"I shouldn't be tired if I were in your place," said Fred; "it's my +feet, you know."</p> + +<p>"Here's a barn," exclaimed Willy, joyfully.</p> + +<p>"Hush!" whispered cautious Fred; "don't you see there's a house to it, +and it wouldn't do to risk it? Folks would find us out, sure as guns."</p> + +<p>A little farther on there was a hayrack at the side of the road, filled +with boards; and after a short consultation the boys decided to climb +into it, and "camp down a few minutes."</p> + +<p>"It won't do to stay long," said Fred, "for it must be 'most sunrise; +and we<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[Pg 182]</a></span> should be in a pretty fix if anybody should go by and catch us."</p> + +<p>It was only one o'clock! The boards were not as soft as feathers, by any +means, but the boys thought they wouldn't have minded that if they could +only have had a blanket to spread over them. More forlorn than the +"babes in the wood," they had not even the prospect that any birds would +come and cover them with leaves.</p> + +<p>As they stretched themselves upon the boards, Willy thought of his +prayer. "Now I lay me down to sleep." Never, since he could remember, +had he gone to bed without that. Would it do to say it now? Would God +hear him? Ah, but would it do <i>not</i> to say it? So he breathed it softly +to himself, lest Fred should hear and laugh at him.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[Pg 183]</a></span></p> + +<p>It was so cold that Fred declared he couldn't shut his eyes, and +shouldn't dare to, either; but in less than a minute both the boys were +fast asleep.</p> + +<p>They had slept about three hours, without stirring or even dreaming, +when they were suddenly wakened by the glare of a tin lantern shining in +their eyes, and a gruff voice calling out,—</p> + +<p>"Who's this? How came you here?"</p> + +<p>Willy stared at the man without speaking. Was it to-night, or last +night, or to-morrow night?</p> + +<p>Fred had not yet opened his eyes, and the worthy farmer was obliged to +shake him for half a minute before he was fairly aroused.</p> + +<p>"Who are you? What are you here for?" repeated he.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[Pg 184]</a></span></p> + +<p>Then the boys sat upright on the boards and looked at each other. They +were both covered with a thick coating of frost, as white as if they had +been out in a snowstorm. What should they say to the man? It would never +do to tell him their real names, for then he would very likely know who +their fathers were, and send them straight home. Dear! dear! What a pity +they happened to fall asleep! And why need the man have come out there +in the night with a lantern?—a man who probably had a bed of his own to +sleep in.</p> + +<p>"I—I—" said Willy, brushing the frost off his knees; and that is +probably as far as he would have gone with his speech, for his tongue +failed him entirely; but Fred, being afraid he might tell the whole +truth,—which was a bad habit of Willy's,—gave<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[Pg 185]</a></span> him a sly poke in the +side, as a hint to stop. Willy couldn't and wouldn't make up a wrong +story; but Fred could, and there was nothing he enjoyed more.</p> + +<p>"Well, sir," said he, clearing his throat, and looking up at the farmer +with a face of baby-like innocence, "I guess you don't know me—do you? +My name's Johnny Quirk, and this boy here's my brother, Sammy Quirk."</p> + +<p>Willy drew back a little. It seemed as if he himself had been telling a +lie. Ah! and wasn't it next thing to it?</p> + +<p>"Quirk? Quirk? I don't know any Quirks round in these parts," said the +farmer.</p> + +<p>"O, we live up yonder," said Fred, pointing with his finger. "We live +two miles beyond Harlow, and we were down<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[Pg 186]</a></span> to Cross Lots to aunt +Nancy's, you see, and they sent for us to come home,—mother did. Our +father's dreadful sick: they don't expect he'll get well."</p> + +<p>"You don't say so! Poor little creeturs! And here you are out doors, +sleeping on the rough boards. Come right along into the house with me, +and get warm. What's the matter with your father?"</p> + +<p>"Some kind of a fever; and he don't know anything; he's awful sick," +replied Fred, running his sleeve across his eyes.</p> + +<p>The good farmer's heart was touched. He thought of his own little boys, +no older than these, and how sad it would be if they should be left +fatherless.</p> + +<p>"Come in and get warm," said he. "It's four o'clock, and you shall sleep +in a good bed till six, and then I'll wake you up, and give you some +breakfast."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[Pg 187]</a></span></p> + +<p>"O, I don't know as we can; we ought to be going," said Fred, wiping his +eyes; "father may be dead."</p> + +<p>"Yes, but you shall come in," persisted the farmer; "you're all but +froze. If 'twas my little boys, I should take it kindly in anybody that +made 'em go in and get warm. Besides, you can travel as fast again if +you start off kind of comfortable."</p> + +<p>A good bed was so refreshing to think of that the boys did not need much +urging; but Willy entered the house with downcast eyes and feelings of +shame, whereas Fred could look their new friend in the face, and answer +all his questions without wincing.</p> + +<p>Mr. Johonnet thought himself a shrewd man, but he could not see into the +hearts of these young children. He liked the appearance<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[Pg 188]</a></span> of "Johnny +Quirk," an "open-hearted, pretty-spoken little chap, that any father +might be proud of;" but "Sammy" did not please him as well; he was not +so frank, or so respectful,—seemed really to be a little sulky. There +are some boys who pass off finely before strangers, because they are not +in the least bashful, and have a knack of putting on any manner they +choose; and Fred was one of these. Willy, a far nobler boy, was +naturally timid before his betters; but even if he had been as bold as +Fred, his conscience would never have let him say and do such untrue +things.</p> + +<p>Willy suffered. Although he had told no lies himself, he had stood by +and heard them told without correcting them. How much better was that? +Still it seemed as if, as things were, he could not very<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[Pg 189]</a></span> well have +helped himself. So much for falling into bad company. "Eggs should not +dance with stones."</p> + +<p>"Well; I never'd have come with Fred Chase if father hadn't whipped me +'most to death."</p> + +<p>And, soothed with this flimsy excuse, Willy was soon asleep again.</p> + +<p>At six o'clock Mr. Johonnet called the little travellers to breakfast. +The coffee was very dark-colored, with molasses boiled in it, and there +were fried pork, fried potatoes swimming in fat, and clammy "rye and +indian bread." None of these dishes were very inviting to the boys, who +both had excellent fare at home; and they would have made but a light +meal, if it had not been for the pumpkin pie and cheese, which Mr. +Johonnet asked his wife to set on the table.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[Pg 190]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Poor children, they must eat," said he; "for they've got to get home to +see their sick father."</p> + +<p>There were so many questions to be asked, that the boys made quick work +of their breakfast and hurried away.</p> + +<p>"There, glad we're out of that scrape," said Fred.</p> + +<p>"But <i>didn't</i> you lie? Why, Fred, how could you lie so?"</p> + +<p>"H'm! Did it up handsome—didn't I, though? Wouldn't give a red cent for +you. You haven't the least gumption about lying."</p> + +<p>Willy shivered and drew away a little. His fine nature was shocked by +Fred's coarseness and lack of principle; still, this was the boy he had +chosen for an intimate friend!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[Pg 191]</a></span></p> + +<p>"If it hadn't been for me you'd have let the cat out of the bag," +chuckled Fred. "You hung your head down as if you'd been stealing a +sheep."</p> + +<p>It was three miles farther to Harlow, and Fred grumbled all the way +about his sore feet.</p> + +<p>"See that yellow house through the trees?" said he. "That's my uncle +Diah's; wish we could go there and rest."</p> + +<p>"But what's the use to wish?" returned Willy. "Look here, Fred; isn't +there a ford somewhere near here?"</p> + +<p>To be sure there was. They had forgotten that; and sometimes the ford +was not fordable, and it was necessary to go round-about in order to +cross a ferry. While they were puzzling over this new dilemma, a +stage-horn sounded.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[Pg 192]</a></span></p> + +<p>"That's the Harlow driver; he knows us," cried Fred; "let's hide quick."</p> + +<p>They concealed themselves behind some aspen trees on the bank, and +"peeking" out, could see the stage-coach and its four sleek horses, +about an eighth of a mile away, driving down the ferry-hill into the +river.</p> + +<p>"Good!" said Willy; "there's the ford, and now we know. And the water +isn't up to the horses' knees; so <i>we</i> can cross well enough."</p> + +<p>"Yes, and get our breeches wet," groaned Fred.</p> + +<p>"O, that's nothing. Lumbermen don't mind wet breeches," said Willy, +cheerily.</p> + +<p>"Lumbermen? Who said we were lumbermen? I shan't try it yet a while; my +feet are too plaguy sore!"</p> + +<p>"Shan't try what?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[Pg 193]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Well, nothing, I guess," yawned Fred; "lumber nor nothing else."</p> + +<p>The stage had passed, by this time, and they were walking towards the +ford. When they reached it, Willy, nothing daunted, drew off his +stockings and shoes, and began to roll up his pantaloons.</p> + +<p>"Look here, Billy; if you see any fun in this business, <i>I</i> don't!"</p> + +<p>"Fun? O, but we don't spect that, you know," said heroic Willy, stepping +into the stream.</p> + +<p>"Cold as ice, I know by the way you cringe," said lazy Fred, who had not +yet untied his shoes.</p> + +<p>"Come on, Fred; who minds the cold?"</p> + +<p>"Now wait a minute, Billy. I hadn't got through talking. I'm not going +to kill myself for nothing; I want some fun out of it."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[Pg 194]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Do come on and behave yourself," called back Willy; "when we get rich +we'll have the fun."</p> + +<p>"Well, go and get rich then," cried Fred; "I shan't stir another step! +My father's got money enough, and I needn't turn my hand over."</p> + +<p>Willy stopped short.</p> + +<p>"But you are going to the Forks with me?"</p> + +<p>"Who said I was?"</p> + +<p>"Why, you said so, yourself. You were the one that put it in my head."</p> + +<p>"O, that was only talk. I didn't mean anything."</p> + +<p>Willy turned square round in the water, and glared at Fred, with eyes +that seemed to shoot sparks of fire.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 347px;"> +<img src="images/i002.jpg" width="347" height="500" alt="Deserted.—Page 195." title="" /> +<span class="caption">Deserted.—Page 195.</span> +</div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[Pg 195]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Yes—well, yes, I did kind of mean to, too," cried Fred, shrinking +under the gaze; "but I've got awful sick of it."</p> + +<p>"Who called me a <span class="smcap">sneak</span>?" exclaimed Willy, his voice shaking with wrath. +"Who called me my mamma's cry-baby? Who said he spected I'd back out?"</p> + +<p>"But you see, Billy, my feet!"</p> + +<p>Willy, whose own feet were nearly freezing, replied by a sniff of +contempt. He planted himself on a rock in the middle of the river, and +awaited the rest of Fred's speech.</p> + +<p>"You know I've got folks living this side, back there a piece—my uncle +Diah. That's where I'll go. They'll let me make a visit, and carry me +home: they did it last spring."</p> + +<p>"And what about <i>me</i>, Fred Chase?"</p> + +<p>"You? Why, you may go where you're a mind to."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[Pg 196]</a></span></p> + +<p>"What? Me, that you coaxed so to come?"</p> + +<p>Fred quailed before the look and the tone.</p> + +<p>"Well, I'd take you to uncle Diah's, Willy, only—well—I can't very +well, that's all."</p> + +<p>Willy suddenly turned his back, and cleared the stream with one bound.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[Pg 197]</a></span></p> +<h2>CHAPTER XII.</h2> + +<h3>"I HA'E NAEBODY NOW."</h3> + + +<p>Standing on the bank, Willy looked back over his shoulder at Fred, and +saw him dart off into a shady cow-path. No doubt he was going to his +uncle Diah's. When he was fairly out of sight, and Willy comprehended at +last that he had really left him, and did not mean to come back, he sat +down on a stone by the wayside, and began to rave.</p> + +<p>"The tormentable, mean, naughty boy! I'd be ashamed to treat a <i>skeeter</i> +the way he's treated me! Did I ever coax a boy to go anywhere with me, +and then run off<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[Pg 198]</a></span> and leave him right in the middle of the river? No, +<i>sir</i>. Sore feet, hey? Didn't anybody ever have sore feet 'fore now, I +wonder? Why, I had chilblains last winter so deep they dug a hole into +my heels, and,—well, it's no use to make a great fuss,—I didn't cry +but two or three times. Blisters! what's that? Nothing but little puffs +of water! Perhaps that wasn't why he stopped, though. Just as likely as +not he meant all the time to stop, and come a-purpose to see Mr. Diah. +How can you tell? A boy that lies so! There, there, come to think of it, +shouldn't wonder if his feet weren't sore a bit! Wish I'd looked at 'em!</p> + +<p>"Well, he's backed out, Fred Chase has! I should think he'd feel so mean +he never'd want to show <i>his</i> head anywhere again!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[Pg 199]</a></span> 'Fore I'd <i>sneak +out</i> when I got started! Eh, for shame!"</p> + +<p>Willy tore up a handful of grass, and threw it into the road, and the +action served to relieve him a little.</p> + +<p>"Well, what'll <i>I</i> do? now let's think. If a tiger should come right +down this ferry-hill, and tear me all to pieces, Fred wouldn't care. +'Course not. All he cares is to get enough to eat, and not make his feet +sore. He don't care what comes of me. I've got to think it out for +myself, what I'd better do. Got to do it myself, too, all alone, and +there won't be anybody to help me. Pretty scrape, I should think! Might +have known better'n to come!</p> + +<p>"Well; will I be a lumberman and go up to the Forks? Let's see; I don' +know the way up there. That makes it bad,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[Pg 200]</a></span> 'cause I guess there isn't +much of any road to it 'cept spotted trees; that's what I heard once. +Most likely I'd get lost. Fred wouldn't care if I did; be glad, I +s'pose. But, then, there's bears. Ugh! Pshaw! who's afraid of bears? And +then there's mother—O, I didn't mean to think about mother!"</p> + +<p>Willy sighed, but soon roused himself.</p> + +<p>"Well, what'll I do? O, wasn't that a real poor breakfast the woman gave +us? Don't see how I swallowed it! Makes me sick to think of it. Didn't +taste much like mother's breakfasts! I don't want to go where I'll have +to drink molasses in my coffee, and eat fatty potatoes too.</p> + +<p>"And who'd take a little boy like me? Folks laugh at little boys—think +they don't know a thing. And folks always ask<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[Pg 201]</a></span> so many questions. They +want to know where you come from, and who your father is, and if he's +got any cows. And I <i>won't</i> lie. And next thing they'd be sending me +home. They'd say home was the best place for little boys. H'm! So it is, +if you don't have to get whipped!</p> + +<p>"O, my! Didn't I have to take it that last time? Father never hurt so +before. Made all the bad come up in my throat, and I can't swallow it +down yet. It would be good enough for him if I was dead; for then every +time he went out to the barn there'd be that horsewhip hanging up on the +nail; and he'd think to himself—'Where's that little boy I used to +whip?' And then the tears will come into his eyes, I pretty much know +they will. I saw the tears in his eyes once when I was sick.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[Pg 202]</a></span> He felt +real bad; but when I got well, first thing he did was to whip me again. +Whippings don't do any good. All that does any good is when mother talks +to me; and that don't do any good, either. She made me learn this +verse:—</p> + +<p>"'And thou, Solomon, my son, know thou the God of thy fathers, and serve +him with a perfect heart and a willing mind. If thou seek him, he will +be found of thee, but if thou forsake him, he will cast thee off +forever.'</p> + +<p>"There, I know that straight as a book. She prays to God to make me +better, but He doesn't do it yet, and I should think she'd get +discouraged. 'Heart like a stone,' she said. That made me want to laugh, +for I could feel it beating all the time she spoke, and it couldn't if +it was a stone!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[Pg 203]</a></span> Bad heart, though, or I wouldn't be so bad myself.</p> + +<p>"Well, it's no use to think about badness or goodness now," said Willy, +flinging another handful of grass into the road. "<i>What'll I do?</i> That's +the question.</p> + +<p>"You see, now, folks have such a poor opinion of boys," added he, his +thoughts spinning round the same circle again. "Most wish I was a girl. +O, my stars, what an idea!"</p> + +<p>And completely disgusted with himself, he jumped up and turned a +somerset.</p> + +<p>"Better be whipped three times a day than be a girl!</p> + +<p>"But father felt real bad that time I was sick, for I saw him. Not so +bad as mother, though. Poor mother! I no business to gone off and left +her. What you<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[Pg 204]</a></span> s'pose she thought last night, when I didn't come back +from the post office?"</p> + +<p>This question had tried to rise before, but had always been forced back.</p> + +<p>"She waited till nine o'clock, and didn't think much queer. But after +that she come out of the bedroom, with her face tied up, and said she, +'Hasn't Willy got home yet?' Then they told her 'No,' and father +scowled. And she sat up till ten o'clock, and then do you s'pose anybody +went out doors to hunt? She didn't sleep a wink all night. Don't see how +folks can lie awake so. I couldn't if I should try; but I'm not a woman, +you know, and I don't believe I should care much about my boys, if I +was. Would <i>I</i> mend their trousis for 'em, when they tore 'em on a nail, +going where I told 'em not to? For, says<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[Pg 205]</a></span> I, I can't bear the sight of a +child that won't mind. But you see, mother—</p> + +<p>"Poor mother, what'll she do without me? She said there wasn't anybody +she could take in her arms to hug but just me. Stephen's too big to sit +in her lap, and Love's too big; and there wouldn't anybody think of +hugging Seth, if he was ever so little.</p> + +<p>"Yes, mother wants <i>me</i>. I remember that song she sings about the Scotch +woman that lost her baby, and she cries a little before she gets +through."</p> + +<p>The words were set to a plaintive air, and Willy hummed it over to +himself,—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"I ha'e naebody now, I ha'e naebody now<br /></span> +<span class="i3">To clasp at my bosom at even,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O'er his calm sleep to breathe out a vow,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">And pray for the blessing of Heaven."<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[Pg 206]</a></span></div></div> + +<p>"Poor mother, how that makes her cry! Why, I declare, I'm crying too! +Somehow seems's if I couldn't get along without mother. But there, I +won't be a cry-baby! Hush up, Willy Parlin!</p> + +<p>"<span class="smcap">What'll I do?</span> Wish I hadn't come. Wish I'd thought more about +mother—how she's going to feel.</p> + +<p>"What if I should turn right round now, and go home? Why, father'd whip +me worse'n ever—<i>that's</i> what. Well, who cares? It'll feel better after +it's done smarting. Guess I can stand it. Look here, Will Parlin, I'm +going."</p> + +<p>Bravo, Willy! With both feet he plunged into the river, and waded slowly +across. Very slowly, for his mind was not fully made up yet. There was a +great deal of thinking to be done first; but he might<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[Pg 207]</a></span> as well be moving +on while he thought. Every now and then rebellious pride, or anger, or +shame would get the better of him, and he would wheel round, with the +impulse to strike off into the unknown <i>Somewhere</i>, where boys lived +without whippings. But the thought of his mother always stopped him.</p> + +<p>Was there an invisible cord which stretched from her heart to his—a +cord of love, which drew him back to her side? He could see her +sorrowful face, he could hear her pleading voice, and the very tremble +in it when she sang,—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"I ha'e naebody now, I ha'e naebody now."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>"But I'd never go back and take that whipping, if it wasn't for mother!"</p> + +<p>He no longer felt obliged to hide from<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[Pg 208]</a></span> the approach of every human +being; and when a pedler, driving a "cart of notions," called out, "Want +a lift, little youngster?" he was very glad to accept the offer. To be +sure, he only rode two or three miles, but it was a great help.</p> + +<p>It was noon, by that time, "high noon too," and the smell of nice +dinners floated out to him from the farm-houses, as he trudged by; but +to beg a meal he was ashamed. When he reached Cross Lots it was the +middle of the afternoon. He went up to the stump near the mill, where he +and Freddy had sat the night before; and, as he seated himself, he +thought with a pang of that pocket full of doughnuts, so freely made way +with.</p> + +<p>He had eighteen cents in his wallet; but what good did it do, when there +was no<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[Pg 209]</a></span> store at hand where a body could buy so much as a sheet of +gingerbread? He was starving in the midst of plenty, like that +unfortunate man whose touch turned all the food he put in his mouth into +gold.</p> + +<p>Beginning to think he would almost be willing to be whipped for the sake +of a good supper, he rose and walked on.</p> + +<p>When he reached the Noonin farm, a mile and a half from home, the night +shadows were beginning to fall, but he could see in the distance a horse +and wagon coming that made his heart thump loud. The horse was old +Dolly; and what if one of the men in the wagon should be his father?</p> + +<p>No, it was only Seth and Stephen; but Seth was almost as much to be +dreaded as Mr. Parlin himself.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[Pg 210]</a></span></p> + +<p>"You here, you young rogue?" called out Stephen, in a tone between +laughing and scolding, for he would not have Willy suspect how relieved +they were at finding him. "You here? And where's Fred?"</p> + +<p>"Up to Harlow, to Mr. Diah's," replied Willy, and coolly climbed into +the wagon.</p> + +<p>"Better wait for an invitation. How do you know we shall let you ride?" +said Stephen, turning the horse's head towards home.</p> + +<p>"First, we'd like to know what you've got to say for yourself," put in +Seth, in that cold, hard tone, which always made Willy feel as if he +didn't care how he had acted, and as if he would do just so again.</p> + +<p>"I suppose you are aware that you have been a very wicked, deceitful, +disobedient boy?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[Pg 211]</a></span></p> + +<p>Willy made no reply, but lay down on the floor of the wagon, and curled +himself up like a caterpillar.</p> + +<p>"Don't be too hard on him, Seth," said Stephen, who could not help +pitying the poor little fellow in his shame and embarrassment; "I don't +believe you meant to run away—now did you, Willy?"</p> + +<p>The child was quite touched by this unexpected kindness. So they were +not sure he did mean to run away? If he said "No," they would believe +him, and then perhaps he wouldn't have to be whipped. But next instant +his better self triumphed, and he scorned the lie. Uncurling himself +from his caterpillar ball, he stammered,—</p> + +<p>"Yes, I did mean to, too."</p> + +<p>A little more, and he would have told<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[Pg 212]</a></span> the whole story. He longed to +tell it—how life had seemed a burden on account of his whippings, and +how he and Fred had planned to set up in business for themselves, but +Fred had backed out. But before he had time to speak, Seth said, +sternly,—</p> + +<p>"You saucy child!"</p> + +<p>He had taken Willy's quick "Yes, I did mean to, too," for impertinence; +whereas it was one of the bravest speeches the boy ever made, and did +him honor.</p> + +<p>After this rebuke from Seth, Willy could not very well go on with his +confessions; the heart was gone out of him, and he curled up, limp and +quiet, like a caterpillar again.</p> + +<p>"Meant to run away—did you?" went on Seth, who ought to have known +better<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[Pg 213]</a></span> than to pursue the subject; "to run away like a little dirty +vagabond! You've nearly killed mother, I wish you to understand. You'll +get a severe thrashing for this. I shall tell father not to show you any +mercy."</p> + +<p>"Come, now, don't kick a fellow when he's down," said Stephen. "Willy +will be ashamed enough of this."</p> + +<p>"Well, he ought to be ashamed! If he'd had a teaspoonful of brains he'd +have known better than to cut up such a caper as this. Did you think you +could run off so far but that we could find you, child?"</p> + +<p>No answer.</p> + +<p>"What did you little goslings mean to do with yourselves? Live on +acorns? And what did Fred's uncle say when he saw him coming into the +house in that shape?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[Pg 214]</a></span></p> + +<p>No answer.</p> + +<p>Stephen looked down at the curled-up bunch on the floor of the wagon, +and as it did not move, he gently touched it with his foot.</p> + +<p>"Poor little thing," said he, "I guess he's had a pretty hard cruise of +it; he's sound asleep."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[Pg 215]</a></span></p> +<h2>CHAPTER XIII.</h2> + +<h3>CONCLUSION.</h3> + + +<p>Mrs. Parlin saw the wagon driving up to the porch door, and came out +trembling and too much frightened to speak. She supposed at first that +Willy had not come, for she did not see him till Seth and Stephen lifted +him out of the wagon, a dead weight between them.</p> + +<p>O, her baby—her baby; what had happened to her dear wee Willie?</p> + +<p>"There, there, mother, don't be frightened," said Stephen, cheerily; +"his tramp has been too much for him; that's all. I guess we'll carry +him right up stairs to bed."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[Pg 216]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I—want—some—supper," moaned the little rebel, waking up just as they +were laying him on his bed in the pink chamber.</p> + +<p>His mother and Love watched him with real pleasure, as he devoured cold +meat and bread, all they dared let him have, but not half as much as he +craved. Then he fell asleep again, and did not wake till noon of the +next day. His mother was bending over him with the tenderest love, just +as if he had never given her a moment's trouble in his life. That was +just like his dear mother, and it was more than Willy could bear; he +threw his arms round her neck, and buried his face in her bosom, +completely subdued.</p> + +<p>"O, mother, mother, I'll never do so again."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[Pg 217]</a></span></p> + +<p>"My darling, I am sure you never will."</p> + +<p>"Where's father?"</p> + +<p>"Down stairs in the dining-room, I think."</p> + +<p>"Well, I'm ready; will you tell him I'm ready," cried Willy, drawing a +quick breath.</p> + +<p>"Ready for what, dear?"</p> + +<p>"Well, he is going to whip me, I suppose, and I want it over with."</p> + +<p>"And how do you feel about it, my son? Don't you think you deserve to be +whipped?"</p> + +<p>"Yes'm, I do," replied Willy, with a sudden burst of candor; "I don't +see how anybody can help whipping a boy that's acted the way I have."</p> + +<p>"That's nobly said, my child," exclaimed Mr. Parlin, stepping out of the +large clothes-press. "I happened to be in there over-hauling<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[Pg 218]</a></span> the trunk +that has my Freemason clothes in it, and I couldn't but overhear what +you've been saying."</p> + +<p>Willy buried his face in the pillow. He was willing his mother should +know his inmost thoughts, but he had always been afraid of his father.</p> + +<p>"And, Willy, since you take so kindly to the idea of another whipping, I +don't know but I shall let you off this time."</p> + +<p>Willy opened his eyes very wide.</p> + +<p>"I'll tell you why," went on Mr. Parlin. "You didn't deserve the last +whipping you had; so that will go to offset this one, which you do +deserve."</p> + +<p>Willy's eyes sparkled with delight; still there was a look in them of +question and surprise. The idea of his ever having a whipping that his +father thought he didn't deserve!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[Pg 219]</a></span></p> + +<p>"You were in a shameful state that night, Willy; I can't call it +anything else but <i>drunk</i>; but I know now how it happened; there was +brandy in the cider."</p> + +<p>"Brandy, papa?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. Dr. Potter and I examined the barrel yesterday, and the mixture in +it was at least one third brandy."</p> + +<p>"O, papa, was that why it tasted so bad? I drank one mugful, and didn't +like it; and then by and by I drank another mugful; but that was all."</p> + +<p>"Yes, Willy; so you told me when I talked with you; and I didn't believe +you then; but I believe you now."</p> + +<p>"O, father, I'm so glad!" cried Willy, with a look such as he had never +before given his father—a beaming look of gratitude and love. I think +he was happier at<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[Pg 220]</a></span> that moment to know that his father trusted him, than +to know he would not be punished.</p> + +<p>He little thought then that he should never have another whipping as +long as he lived; but so it proved. Not that Mr. Parlin ever changed his +mind about the good effects of the rod; but when he saw that Willy was +really trying to be a better boy, he had more patience with him.</p> + +<p>And Willy was trying. He continued to be rather hasty and headstrong, +but the "Indian sulks" gradually melted out of his disposition like ice +in a summer river. This exploit of running away had a humbling effect, +no doubt; but more than that, as he grew older he learned to understand +and love his father better. He found that those dreadful whippings had +been given<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[Pg 221]</a></span> "more in sorrow than in anger,"—given as a help to make him +better; and the time came when he thanked his father for them.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>And this is all I have to tell of his younger days. When he was +twenty-seven years old, and pretty Patience Lyman was twenty, they were +married in Squire Lyman's parlor, by Elder Lovejoy, then a very old man.</p> + +<p>After the wedding they rode at once to Willowbrook, where they have both +lived to this day; she, the dearest of old ladies, and he, a large, +beautiful, white-headed old man, whom no one would now think of calling +the <i>Little Grandfather</i>.</p> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Little Grandfather, by Sophie May + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LITTLE GRANDFATHER *** + +***** This file should be named 25481-h.htm or 25481-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/2/5/4/8/25481/ + +Produced by David Edwards, Josephine Paolucci and the +Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net. +(This file was produced from images generously made +available by The Internet Archive.) + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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