1 files changed, 3946 insertions, 0 deletions

diff --git a/25481.txt b/25481.txt
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..1906108
--- /dev/null
+++ b/25481.txt
@@ -0,0 +1,3946 @@
+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: ASCII
+
+*** 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.)
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: LITTLE GRANDFATHER.]
+
+[Illustration: LITTLE GRANDFATHER.
+
+ILLUSTRATED
+
+LEE & SHEPARD, BOSTON]
+
+
+
+
+LITTLE PRUDY'S FLYAWAY SERIES.
+
+
+LITTLE GRANDFATHER.
+
+BY
+
+SOPHIE MAY,
+
+AUTHOR OF "LITTLE PRUDY STORIES," "DOTTY DIMPLE STORIES," "THE DOCTOR'S
+DAUGHTER." ETC.
+
+_ILLUSTRATED._
+
+BOSTON:
+LEE AND SHEPARD, PUBLISHERS.
+
+NEW YORK:
+LEE, SHEPARD AND DILLINGHAM.
+1874.
+
+
+Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1873,
+
+BY LEE AND SHEPARD,
+
+In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington.
+
+Electrotyped at the Boston Stereotype Foundry,
+No. 19 Spring Lane.
+
+    DEDICATION.
+
+    TO
+
+    _LITTLE MARY TOBEY._
+
+
+
+
+_LITTLE PRUDY'S FLYAWAY SERIES._
+
+TO BE COMPLETED IN SIX VOLS.
+
+
+    1. LITTLE FOLKS ASTRAY.
+
+    2. PRUDY KEEPING HOUSE.
+
+    3. AUNT MADGE'S STORY.
+
+    4. LITTLE GRANDMOTHER.
+
+    5. LITTLE GRANDFATHER.
+
+    6. (In preparation.)
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+
+CHAPTER                                            PAGE.
+
+I. THE PARLINS.                                       9
+
+II. WALKING IN SLEEP.                                21
+
+III. THE TRUNDLE-BED.                                41
+
+IV. THE OX-MONEY.                                    53
+
+V. THE BOY THAT WORE HOME THE MEDAL.                 63
+
+VI. THE BOY THAT MEANT TO MIND HIS MOTHER.           80
+
+VII. THE BOY THAT CHEATED.                           97
+
+VIII. THE "NEVER-GIVE-UPS."                         113
+
+IX. THE MUSTER.                                     134
+
+X. GOING TO SEA.                                    153
+
+XI. TO THE FORKS.                                   173
+
+XII. "I HA'E NAEBODY NOW."                          197
+
+XIII. CONCLUSION.                                   215
+
+
+
+
+LITTLE GRANDFATHER.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+THE PARLINS.
+
+
+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 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.
+
+Do you wonder he smiled?
+
+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.
+
+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,--
+
+"Isn't I _most_ white, mamma?"
+
+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.
+
+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,--
+
+"I don't know what I _shall_ do with our Willy!"
+
+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 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.
+
+Seth, the oldest son, helped his father in this, and seemed to be
+constantly watching to see what Willy would do that was wrong.
+
+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.
+
+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 a very large woman as her mother,
+or that Mrs. Parlin had once been thin and delicate, like Love.
+
+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 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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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 _regulation_
+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 _so_ affectionate!" 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.
+
+But I know very well how his _mother_ would have answered your question
+about Willy. She would have said, "Don't talk of his faults; he is my
+own little darling."
+
+And then she would have opened her arms wide, and taken him right in:
+that is the way it is with mothers.
+
+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.
+
+I suspect Willy was rather contrarily made up; something like a mince
+pie, perhaps. Let us see.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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 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,--
+
+"Dear God, let me keep this last precious treasure! But if that may not
+be, O, lay it up for me in heaven."
+
+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 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.
+
+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.
+
+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 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.
+
+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.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+WALKING IN SLEEP.
+
+
+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.
+
+"Don't you think it's the beautifulest bossy ever you saw?"
+
+"Well, middlin' handsome," replied Caleb, mischievously; "middlin'
+handsome."
+
+"O, Caleb, when it's got a white place in its forehead shaped _so_!"
+said Willy, biting his cookie into something like the form of a star.
+
+"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.
+
+"If it _wasn't_ for that white streak! Why, Caleb Cushing!--when 'twas
+put there to purpose to be kissed! Love said so."
+
+"Well, everybody to their fancy," returned Caleb, dryly. "I never had
+any notion for kissing cattle, myself."
+
+"She isn't a cattle, Cale Cushing. She's my bossy."
+
+"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."
+
+"Hands? He hasn't any hands, Caleb! 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--"
+
+"Well, what are you going to do when she gets to be a ox?"
+
+Willy looked puzzled. He had never thought of that before.
+
+"Have him killed--shan't you, sonny? He'll make very nice eating."
+
+Willy stood upright on Caleb's knee, in horror and amaze.
+
+"My bossy killed? I'll send anybody to jail that kills that bossy."
+
+"Then perhaps you'd better trade him off now to Squire Lyman. Didn't the
+squire offer to swap his baby for him?"
+
+"Yes; and so I would if that baby was a boy," said Willy, thoughtfully;
+"but she's only a girl--couldn't help me bring in chips, you know.
+Guess I don't want a girl-baby."
+
+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.
+
+"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."
+
+"Did you ever see one ox hauling hay alone, Willy?"
+
+"No; but I'll have a little cart, and then she can."
+
+"But the trouble is, Willy, your ox might feel lonesome."
+
+"Well, I'll buy one ox more, and then he won't be lonesome."
+
+"Ah! but, Willy, oxen cost money."
+
+"'Sif I didn't know that! How much money do they cost, Caleb?"
+
+"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?"
+
+"Three dollars?"
+
+"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."
+
+"What did you say, Caleb?"
+
+"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."
+
+"You didn't want my father's money--did you, Caleb Cushing?"
+
+"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."
+
+Willy looked up astonished. What did Caleb mean by saying it was "his by
+good rights"?--his father's money. For he had not heard all Caleb's
+remarks, and what he had heard he had entirely misunderstood.
+
+"Willy!" called his mother's voice from the sitting-room; but the little
+fellow, was too excited to hear.
+
+"Do you mean my father's money, Caleb, that he keeps in his drawer?"
+
+"Yes, yes, child; laid inside of a book," replied Caleb, carelessly.
+
+"What! and you want it?--my father's money?"
+
+"Yes, yes," laughed Caleb; "off to bed, child. Don't you hear your
+mother calling?"
+
+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, 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.
+
+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.
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"We'll have it all ready for Bubby, when he makes us his visit," said
+he, laughing.
+
+Some one always placed the chair there for Willy, and it was usually Dr.
+Hilton.
+
+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 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.
+
+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.
+
+[Illustration: THE LITTLE SLEEP-WALKER.--Page 31.]
+
+In fact, Willy was fast asleep and dreaming; and all the difference
+between him and other sleepers was, that he acted out his dreams.
+
+"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.
+
+Nobody answered, for the doctor had said the same thing fifty times
+before.
+
+Still little Willy kept on rocking and dreaming, as unconscious as a
+yellow lily swinging on its stem.
+
+Everybody had a story to tell, which everybody else laughed at, while
+the fire joined in the uproar right merrily. Still Willy slept on.
+
+Presently a glare of light at the windows startled the company.
+
+"Must be a fire somewhere!" said one of the men.
+
+"Only the moon rising," said another.
+
+"That's no place to look for the moon," said Mr. Parlin, seizing his hat
+and cloak.
+
+"Fire! Fire!" shouted Mr. Riggs, running to the door in a panic.
+
+"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.
+
+There was nobody left in the bar-room now but himself and the sleeping
+Willy.
+
+"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 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."
+
+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.
+
+"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.
+
+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. Did Caleb
+find it there now? And if he did, did he _leave_ it there?
+
+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 _was_ 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?
+
+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?
+
+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, 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.
+
+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.
+
+"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."
+
+"Could anybody have taken it?" said Love. "Who was here last night?"
+
+"O, I never leave a man alone in the bar-room," replied her father; "at
+any rate I didn't last night."
+
+"Caleb would attend to that," said Mrs. Parlin; "he is more particular
+than you are, I think."
+
+Willy looked up, with his black eyes full of questions.
+
+"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."
+
+Mr. Parlin shook his head at Willy. "You mustn't make up such stories as
+that, my son."
+
+"I guess he dreamed it," said sister Love.
+
+"O, I didn't, I didn't; Caleb said so," cried Willy; "he said so last
+night."
+
+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.
+
+That seemed strange, for Caleb had been so unfortunate that no one
+supposed he had any money to put in the bank.
+
+"If it was anybody but Caleb, I should almost suspect he took that
+ninety dollars," said Seth, after a while.
+
+"Don't--don't think it," exclaimed his mother; "we know Caleb too well
+for that."
+
+"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?"
+
+They all laughed at that; it was a little boy's reasoning.
+
+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.
+
+"Father has lost ninety dollars, Caleb," said Seth, looking him straight
+in the eye; "who do you suppose has got it?"
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+Poor Caleb! Whether he was guilty or not, he was certainly very unhappy.
+
+"Willy," said he, "what made you tell your father I said I wanted his
+money? I never made such a speech in my life?"
+
+"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."
+
+"Willy," said Caleb, sadly, "I don't think you mean to tell a lie, but
+what you 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."
+
+"Who pointed a finger at you, Caleb? I didn't see 'em."
+
+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,--
+
+    "Honor gone, all's gone;
+    Better never have been born."
+
+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.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III.
+
+THE TRUNDLE-BED.
+
+
+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.
+
+"But since he has turned out to be a thief, of course we don't want him
+here," said Seth.
+
+"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.'
+
+"Why, mother, who judged Caleb? Who 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."
+
+"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 _you_ like to live with people that don't
+trust you? Why, Seth, you couldn't bear it, I'm sure."
+
+"I wish Caleb didn't go off," said Willy; "he was a-going to give me a
+rabbit."
+
+"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."
+
+"O, yes, he telled me he wanted it," cried the little fellow stoutly.
+
+"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."
+
+"Then I'm not sure; but _perhaps_ I know, and I _guess_ I think so real
+hard."
+
+"That's right, little Pawnee Indian," laughed Stephen. "Indians like you
+always stick fast to an idea when they once get hold of it."
+
+"I'm not an Indian," said Willy, ready to cry; "and I never said Caleb
+stealed; 'twas you said so; you know you did."
+
+It grew very cold that winter, about "Christmas-tide," and one night the
+wind howled and shrieked, while up in the sky 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.
+
+"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 _fruz_ off by
+this time?"
+
+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.
+
+"Poor, sweet little lamb! Not much cold now; but thee will be cold;
+this room is just like a barn."
+
+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."
+
+"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 _expeeriment_ works, I'll try it again."
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+Of course _you_ 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 "_expeeriment_," and began to chop a hash of beef, pork, and all
+sorts of vegetables, for to-morrow's breakfast.
+
+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?
+
+The chilly teamsters had some time ago 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.
+
+It was now nearly nine, and Mrs. Parlin and Love were in the
+sitting-room sewing by the light of two tallow candles.
+
+"Isn't it the coldest night we've had this year, mother?"
+
+"Yes, dear, I think it is. You know what the old ditty says,--
+
+    'When the days begin to lengthen,
+    The cold begins to strengthen.'
+
+"I do wish dear little Willy would stay in his bed, nicely 'happed' in'"
+(_happed_ 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."
+
+"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."
+
+"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."
+
+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 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? _Who?_ 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,--
+
+"Love, I guess I'll go in and look at that child. He may have tossed the
+clothes off and got a little chilly."
+
+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.
+
+As she opened the bedroom door--Well, I cannot tell you; you will have
+to imagine that white, white face, pressed close to the pillow, that
+limp little figure, stretched under the coverlet, in awful stillness.
+
+"O God, is it too late?" thought Mrs. Parlin. She saw the charcoal; she
+understood it all in an instant.
+
+"Lydia, come quick!"
+
+A low moan fell on her ear as she bent to listen. Thank Heaven, it was
+not too late! Willy could yet be saved!
+
+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!
+
+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 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,--
+
+"Thee knows I never _meant_ any harm to that sweet child."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV.
+
+THE OX-MONEY.
+
+
+Perhaps the shock had some effect upon Willy's habits, for after this he
+did not walk in his sleep for some time.
+
+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.
+
+The men were really glad to see him, and nodded at one another, smiling,
+but, 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.
+
+"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."
+
+"Where has Kellup gone to?" asked Mr. Griggs.
+
+"Gone to Bangor, they say."
+
+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. 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.
+
+Willy felt in the account-book for the key, then glided along to the
+money-drawer and opened it.
+
+"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."
+
+The men grew very much interested, and began to creep up a little
+nearer, in order to catch every word.
+
+"Money all gone," sighed Willy; and then, appearing to think for a
+moment, added, "O, yes; but I know where I put it!"
+
+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.
+
+It was only the danger of startling Willy too suddenly that prevented
+the amazed father from snatching the book out of his hand.
+
+"Yes, the ox-money is here," said Willy, patting the notes, which lay
+between the leaves.
+
+How _do_ you suppose he could see them, with his eyes fixed and vacant?
+
+Then he seemed to be considering for a space what to do; but at last put
+the singing-book 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.
+
+"Well, that beats all!" exclaimed Dr. Hilton, before any one else could
+get breath to speak.
+
+Mr. Parlin went at once to the cupboard, and took down the singing-book.
+
+"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!"
+
+"Three cheers for Caleb!" said Dr. Hilton.
+
+"Three cheers for Kellup!" cried one of the teamsters.
+
+And quite forgetting the sleeping child, the rest of the teamsters took
+up the toast, and shouted,--
+
+"Three cheers for Kellup Cushing! Hoo-ra-a-ay!"
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"And how think we found out that Caleb didn't steal?" asked Stephen.
+
+Of course Willy had not the least idea.
+
+"Because you stole the money yourself!" replied the hectoring Stephen.
+
+"O, what a story!" exclaimed Willy, angrily. "'S if _I'd_ steal!"
+
+"Ah, but you did, little man! I'll leave it to father if you didn't!"
+
+Willy stamped and kicked. He had a high temper when it was aroused, and
+his sister Love had to come and quiet him.
+
+"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."
+
+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 from that day to this he has never been able to
+remember the dream.
+
+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 she did not see how
+they could make up for the pain of mind he had suffered.
+
+Caleb confessed that he _had_ felt "kind o' bad; but it wasn't worth
+speaking of now."
+
+After this, when Willy told any improbable story, and insisted that it
+was true, as children often will, his mother had only to remark,--
+
+"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,--
+
+"Well, _perhaps_ it isn't true, mamma. I won't tell it for certain; but
+I _think_ so, you know!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+I believe this was the only time that Willy 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.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V.
+
+THE BOY THAT WORE HOME THE MEDAL.
+
+
+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.
+
+It was the middle of September, but the summer term was still in
+session, because school had not begun that year until after 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.
+
+"Order there," said Miss Judkins, pounding the desk with her ruler.
+"What makes you throw your head back so, William Parlin?"
+
+"'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.
+
+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. More than that, he knew his lesson perfectly.
+
+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.
+
+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."
+
+"No, marm; you told me to say you'd asked Mrs. Lyman _if it was so_, and
+Mrs. Lyman said, '_Yes, it is too true._'"
+
+"That is it, exactly, dear," replied Miss Judkins, smiling. "And be sure
+you don't lose your medal."
+
+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!
+
+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."
+
+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
+if it _was_ covered up." I suppose there was some satisfaction in
+knowing he was more of a boy than people took him to be.
+
+"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.
+
+"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.
+
+"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 could not help laughing at the extra cipher in the
+year 1801.
+
+"Give me that chalk," chuckled he; and then he wrote, in bold
+characters, "7ber the 15th, 1801."
+
+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!
+
+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.
+
+"Look here, Billy, what you up to this afternoon? Going anywhere?"
+
+"Only up to the store, I guess. Why?"
+
+"O, nothing partic'lar. Just asked for fun."
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+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 his children, and did not like to have them make
+much noise in the house.
+
+"Well, my son, so you have brought home the medal again. That's
+right,--that's right."
+
+Willy took off his hat when his father spoke to him, and answered, "Yes,
+sir," with a respectful bow.
+
+There were two or three men standing in the doorway which led into the
+bar-room.
+
+"How d'ye do, my fine little lad?" said one of the men; "and what is
+your name?"
+
+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.
+
+"My name is just the same as it was the other day when you asked me,
+sir," said he.
+
+This pert speech called forth a laugh from all but Mr. Parlin, who
+frowned at the child, and exclaimed,--
+
+"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."
+
+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."
+
+But when he reached the kitchen, he found it so attractive there that he
+soon 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.
+
+"O, mother, mother! the mistress told me to tell you she asked Mrs.
+Lyman what you asked her to, and she told _her_ to ask _me_ to tell
+_you_ it was too true.--Now, _what_ is too true, mother?"
+
+"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 than Siller Noonin thought was really
+necessary.
+
+"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."
+
+"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.
+
+"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.
+
+She did not like to repeat the whole 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.
+
+"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.'"
+
+Willy looked deeply interested while his mother was talking, and said he
+would never speak to Gideon except to answer questions.
+
+"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."
+
+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,--
+
+"Hullo, Billy Button! what you crying about down there?"
+
+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 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.
+
+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
+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?
+
+"Wan't to go swimming, Billy?"
+
+Willy was walking along as fast as he could, but of course he must
+answer a civil question.
+
+"No. Don't know how to swim."
+
+"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."
+
+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 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.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI.
+
+THE BOY THAT MEANT TO MIND HIS MOTHER.
+
+
+"Come on, Billy Button."
+
+"O, Gid Noonin, I can't."
+
+"Why not? Got the cramp?"
+
+"Look here, Gid."
+
+"Well, I'm looking."
+
+"Now, Gid Noonin!"
+
+"Yes; that's my name!"
+
+"I shan't go a step!"
+
+"So I wouldn't," returned Gid, coolly. "I only asked you for fun."
+
+"O--h! H'm! Are you going to swim in the brook or the river?"
+
+"Brook, you goosie. Prime place down there by the old willow tree.
+Don't you wish I'd let you go?"
+
+"No; for my mother says--"
+
+"O, _does_ she, though?"
+
+"My mother says--"
+
+"Lor, now, Billy Button!"
+
+"Hush, Gid; my mother says--"
+
+"A pretty talking woman your mother is!" struck in Gid, squinting his
+eyes.
+
+What a witty creature Gid was! Willy could hardly keep from laughing.
+
+"Can't you let me speak, Gid Noonin? My mother says she won't--"
+
+"Says she _won't_? That's real wicked kind of talk! I'm ashamed of your
+mother!"
+
+Willy laughed. Gid did have _such_ a way of making up faces!
+
+"Come on, you little girl-baby! Guess I _will_ take you, if you won't
+cry."
+
+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.
+
+"Come along, you little tip end of a top o' my thumb."
+
+"No, _sir_. Shan't go a step!"
+
+Willy was a boy that meant to mind his mother.
+
+"But I s'pose you'll have to go if I take you."
+
+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?
+
+"Why, Gid Noonin, I told you my mother said--"
+
+"No, you didn't! You haven't told me a thing! You stutter so I can't
+understand a word."
+
+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.
+
+"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.
+
+"Ride away, ride away. Billy shall ride," sang Gid, bouncing his burden
+up and down.
+
+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.
+
+"O, dear, Gid's such a great big boy, and I'm _only_ 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!
+
+"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."
+
+"Just a-going to," said Willy. "D'you think I's a fool?"
+
+Well, wasn't it nice! The water feeling so ticklish all over you, and--
+
+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, and gone off and
+left him. Willy couldn't swim any more than a fish-hook. Where _was_
+Gid?
+
+"The water's up to my chin. Come, Gid, quick!"
+
+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.
+
+"O, Gid, I can't stand up."
+
+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.
+
+"Quick! Quick! Quick! I shall dro--ow--own!"
+
+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.
+
+"What d'you go off for?" gasped Willy.
+
+"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."
+
+"Dress me, I guess!"
+
+"Well, you'd better scamper!" said Gid, hurriedly, as they got into
+their clothes. "Your mother'll have a fit about you."
+
+"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, though, Gid Noonin," said little Willy, squeezing the
+water out of his hair.
+
+"But you did, you little scamp! Now run along home. I can't stop to
+talk. Got to saw wood."
+
+"Then what made you creep so awful slow when I called to you?" asked
+Willy, indignantly.
+
+"O, because I've got such a sore throat," wheezed Gideon. "Off with you!
+Scamper!"
+
+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.
+
+"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 the medal. Glad I
+didn't wet it, for the color would have washed out of the string."
+
+With that Willy put his hand in his pocket.
+
+"Out here and show yourself, sir."
+
+This to the medal.
+
+"What! Why, what's this?"
+
+He felt in the other pocket.
+
+"Why! Why!"
+
+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.
+
+"Guess there's a hole in my pocket, and the medal fell through."
+
+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.
+
+Then he remembered to look at his pockets; turned them all three inside
+out four times. No hole there.
+
+"Well, I never!--Look here, you Oze Wiggins; did you pick up anything in
+the grass?"
+
+"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.
+
+"Where can that medal be?" said he, with a dry sob.
+
+He did not once suspect that Gideon Noonin had taken it.
+
+"I'll go home and tell my mother. O, dear! O, dear!"
+
+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 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.
+
+"What makes your hair so wet, bubby?" asked Daddy Wiggins, rolling the
+fish in brown paper. "Haven't been in swimming--have you?"
+
+"Don' know," stammered Willy, darting out of the store.
+
+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 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. _Sheep_ 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!
+
+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.
+
+"And this wasn't mine," groaned Willy. "What'll the mistress do to me?
+Don' know; blister both hands, I s'pose!"
+
+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.
+
+"No, it couldn't; for my breeches were tucked in up there between two
+rocks."
+
+Suddenly he recollected Gideon's going back to the bank.
+
+"That wicked, mean boy!" almost screamed Willy. "He stole my medal! I'll
+go right off and tell mother!"
+
+Mrs. Parlin had on her afternoon cap, and was sitting alone in the
+well-sanded "fore-room," doing the mending, and singing,--
+
+    "While shepherds watched their flocks by night,
+      All seated on the ground,"--
+
+when Willy, with his pantaloons tucked up to his knees, and his head
+dripping with water, rushed wildly into the room.
+
+"My medal's gone! Gid Noonin stole it!"
+
+"My son! What do you mean?"
+
+"Yes, ma'am; Gid Noonin stole it! Made me go in swimming, and then he
+stole it!"
+
+"Gideon Noonin?" said Mrs. Parlin, with a meaning glance. "That boy?
+_Made_ you go swimming, my son?"
+
+Willy hung his head.
+
+"Yes, ma'am! Marched me off down to the brook pickaback,--he did!"
+
+"Poor, little baby!" said Mrs. Parlin, in the soft, pitiful tone she
+would have used to an infant. "Poor little baby!"
+
+Willy's head sank lower yet, and the blush of shame crept into his
+cheeks.
+
+"Why, mother, he's as strong's a moose; he could most lift _you_!"
+
+"'My son, if sinners entice thee, consent thou not.'"
+
+"Well, but I--"
+
+"You consented in your heart, Willy, or Gideon could not have made you
+go swimming."
+
+What a very bright woman! Willy was amazed. How could she guess that
+while riding on Gid's back he had been a _little_ 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.
+
+"But I tried not to go, mother. I tell you I squirmed awf'ly!"
+
+"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
+_had_ tried hard enough, the Lord would have helped you?"
+
+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.
+
+"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?"
+
+"If Gideon will not return it, you must pay Miss Judkins a quarter of a
+dollar."
+
+"With a hole in," sighed Willy. "Why, I've only got two cents in this
+world."
+
+"O, well," said Mrs. Parlin, hopefully, "perhaps you can hire out to
+papa, and earn the rest."
+
+"O, if he'll _only_ 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_ shouldn't dare do it, you know."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+THE BOY THAT CHEATED.
+
+
+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.
+
+"Stop a minute, Willy. What have you got there?"
+
+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.
+
+"Stop, I say!" repeated Seth. "What have you got there?"
+
+"Old iron."
+
+"Old iron? Did mother send you after it?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Well, then, go carry it right back."
+
+Willy did not stir.
+
+"Old iron is worth money, little boy."
+
+"Yes; I know that."
+
+"And what business have you with it?"
+
+"Going to sell it."
+
+"What? Without asking mother, you naughty boy?"
+
+Willy set the heavy basket on the next lower stair.
+
+"So you went up stairs for that iron without leave? What a wicked boy!"
+
+Willy set the basket on another stair.
+
+"Bellows' nose, old tea-kettle, rusty nails," said Seth, examining the
+basket.
+
+"Willy Parlin, do you know this is stealing."
+
+"'Tisn't, neither!"
+
+"But I tell you it is! Just as much stealing as if you took money out of
+father's wallet."
+
+"I don't steal," said Willy, setting the basket on another stair.
+
+Seth was growing exasperated.
+
+"If you don't intend to mind me, Willy Parlin, and carry back that iron,
+I shall have to go and tell father."
+
+"Then you'll be a tell-tale, Mr. Seth."
+
+"Do you think I'll have my little brother grow up a thief?"
+
+"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.
+
+"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."
+
+Mrs. Parlin set the pan upon a bench, and sank down on the meat-block,
+too weak to stand.
+
+"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."
+
+"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."
+
+"Well there, mother, I'm glad to hear it--that's a fact! But why didn't
+the little rogue tell me? I declare, he deserves a good whipping for
+imposing upon me so."
+
+"He ought to have told you; but perhaps you spoke harshly to him, my
+son. You know Willy can't bear that."
+
+"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?"
+
+"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!"
+
+Mrs. Parlin had said this before, but it was something Seth never could
+remember.
+
+Willy sold the iron, returned a bright new quarter to Miss Judkins, and
+felt happy again, especially as there were ten cents left, which his
+father kindly allowed him to keep.
+
+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."
+
+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 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.
+
+"They 'pose upon you," said he. "I never'd stand it."
+
+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.
+
+"Did you ever hear of the little boy and the two pails of water?" said
+his mother.
+
+"O, what about him, mamma? Do tell me."
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+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 _what_ a help!
+
+The box was in the entry, and the "fore-room" door shut; he could cheat
+as well as not.
+
+"Now I'll have lots of time to play!"
+
+"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.
+
+"I supposed you had gone, darling, for I didn't hear you whistle."
+
+Willy whistled faintly, as he laid on the last stick. How lucky his
+mother hadn't opened the door sooner!
+
+"That's a nice big box full, my son. You please your mother this
+morning. Come here and kiss me."
+
+Willy went, and then Mrs. Parlin, who was a fine singer, and knew a
+great many ballads, sang, smiling,--
+
+    "Ho! why dost thou shiver and shake,
+           Gaffer Gray?
+    And why doth thy nose look so blue?"
+
+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,--
+
+         "'Tis the weather that's cold,
+         'Tis I'm grown very old,
+    And my doublet is not very new,
+         Well-a-day!"
+
+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.
+
+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 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.
+
+"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."
+
+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
+threshold, I am told, or at the open window in summer, to listen to the
+clear childish voice in such ballads as,--
+
+    "Fy! let us a' to the wedding,
+      For they will be lilting there;
+    For Jock's to be married to Maggie,
+      The lass wi' the gowden hair."
+
+To-night it was "Colin's Come to Town;" and Willy's tones rang sweet and
+high,--
+
+    "His very step has music in't,
+    As he comes up the stair."
+
+"Did you ever hear the beat of that little chap for singing?" said
+Caleb, in the bar-room, to Dr. Hilton and Mr. Griggs.
+
+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.
+
+"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.'"
+
+Mrs. Parlin answered by folding the singing-bird closer to her heart.
+
+"And do you know what the word 'Mother' makes me think of?--Of a great
+large woman, always just ready to hug somebody."
+
+Mrs. Parlin laughed.
+
+"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."
+
+"_Course_ 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."
+
+Love smiled, and walked off, with her long-handled warming-pan, to heat
+a traveller's bed in the icy north chamber.
+
+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:--
+
+    "Glory to Thee, my God, this night,
+    For all the blessings of the light;
+    Keep me, O keep me, King of kings,
+    Beneath thine own almighty wings.
+
+    "Forgive me, Lord, for thy dear Son,
+    The ills which I this day have done,
+    That with the world, myself, and Thee,
+    I, ere I sleep, at peace may be."
+
+"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."
+
+He looked up, and she knew by the cloud in his eyes that his conscience
+was troubled.
+
+"Well, I'll think. But _you_ haven't done anything wrong, mamma?"
+
+"O, yes, dear; many things."
+
+"Well, so've I, too. Want me to tell what?"
+
+"Not unless you choose, my child. Only be sure you tell God."
+
+They were silent a few moments.
+
+"There, that's the _last_ time I'll ever stand the sticks up on end in
+the wood-box," burst forth Willy.
+
+"I thought so," said his mother, kissing him.
+
+So she had known about it all the while!
+
+But not another word did she say; and they went on with the hymn:--
+
+    "Teach me to live, that I may dread
+    The grave as little as my bed.
+    Teach me to die, that so I may
+    Triumphing rise at the last day."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII.
+
+"THE NEVER-GIVE-UPS."
+
+
+         "Now Christmas is come,
+          Let us beat up the drum,
+    And call our neighbors together;
+          And when they appear,
+          Let us make them good cheer,
+    As will keep out the wind and the weather."
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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."
+
+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.
+
+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, and Mrs.
+Parlin, and Love, and Willy all struck up,--
+
+      "Come, bring with a noise,
+       My merry, merry boys,
+    The Christmas log to the firing,
+       While my good dame, she
+       Bids ye all be free,
+    And drink to your hearts' desiring."
+
+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.
+
+Her father was a famous singer, as well as herself; and for my part I
+should have enjoyed hearing some of their old songs, while the wind
+went whistling round the house:--
+
+    "Without the door let Sorrow lie,
+    And if for cold it hap to die,
+    We'll bury it in a Christmas pie,
+        And evermore be merry."
+
+Or this one:--
+
+    "Rejoice, our Saviour, he was born
+    On Christmas day in the morning."
+
+But these were family affairs, these Christmas meetings. No one else in
+Perseverance had anything to do with them, not even Caleb or Lydia.
+
+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 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.
+
+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.
+
+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, 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.
+
+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.
+
+"But they'll give us some new ones by and by, boys," said Willy. "My
+mother laughed last night, when I asked again, and that's a certain sure
+sign."
+
+"O, I thought we'd given that up," said Fred Chase.
+
+"Look here, boys," exclaimed Willy; "I've thought of a name; it's the
+'Never-Give-Ups.' All in favor say 'Ay'!"
+
+"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.
+
+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 better yet, being new, with the first gloss on,
+just as they had come from a store in the city of Boston.
+
+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.
+
+"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."
+
+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 of clothes
+right from Boston, how are you going to help yourselves, pray? So Fred
+was captain, and Willy only a fifer.
+
+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.
+
+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 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.
+
+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."
+
+"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?"
+
+"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."
+
+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:--
+
+"Yes, Mrs. Potter; as you say, they _are_ a noble-looking set of boys;
+and don't they march well?"
+
+"They waste a great deal of time; but then they might be doing worse,
+and I like to see boys enjoy themselves," said Mrs. Lyman, the greatest
+worker in town.
+
+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.
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"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."
+
+"I dare say you did," said Mrs. Lyman, warmly. "We mothers enjoy our
+children's presents more than they enjoy them themselves."
+
+Then she and Mrs. Parlin exchanged a pleasant smile, for they two
+understood each other remarkably well.
+
+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."
+
+"I don't see the sense of such a con-tin-oo-al thumping, you little
+dear," said she.
+
+"That's 'cause you're a Quaker," cried Willy. "But I tell you while my
+name's Willy Parlin this drum _shall_ be heard."
+
+Poor Liddy stopped her ears.
+
+"What you smiling for, mother?" said Willy. "Are you pleased to think
+you've got a little boy that can pound music so nice?"
+
+"Not exactly that, my son. I was wondering whether there is room enough
+out of doors for that drum."
+
+"Why, mother!" exclaimed the little soldier much chagrined. "Why,
+mother!"
+
+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 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,--
+
+"While my name is Willy Parlin, this drum _shall_ be heard."
+
+She wondered if parchment would ever wear out.
+
+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 well, ought to be promoted, they
+thought--"All in favor say Ay!"
+
+Poor Fred was dismayed. He had always known he was unpopular; still he
+had not expected this.
+
+"But how can _I_ be captain?" replied Willy, ready to shout with
+delight. "If I'm captain, who'll beat my drum?"
+
+"Isaac Lovejoy," was the quick reply.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"Now see here, boys," said he, leaning on his wooden gun, and looking
+around 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!"
+
+"O, yes! Ay! Ay!"
+
+"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?"
+
+"Ay, ay," responded the boys.
+
+"Well; and s'pose folks made fun of you just for that; how would you
+like it?"
+
+"Shouldn't like it at all."
+
+"But then Jock's just about half witted," put in Fred, faintly. He knew
+his power was gone, but he wanted to say something.
+
+"Well, what if he is half-witted? He thinks more of his country than you
+do; twice more, and risk it."
+
+"That's so," cried Joshua Potter. "Fred says if there's another war,
+_he_ won't go; he never'll stand up for a mark to be shot at, at eleven
+dollars a month!"
+
+"O, for shame!" exclaimed the captain.
+
+"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 _Tory
+drum_!"
+
+"It's a good Whig drum as ever lived!" returned Willy. "But come, now,
+boys; will we have Jock Winter?"
+
+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 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.
+
+"Joe! Joe!" cried he. "Get your scythe, Joe, and mow 'em down as fast as
+they come!"
+
+When the little boys heard of this, it amused them greatly. Mistaken for
+the British army, indeed! Well, now, that was something worth while!
+
+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.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX.
+
+THE MUSTER.
+
+
+Willy proved to have fine powers as a leader. Like the famous John
+Gilpin,
+
+    "A train-band captain eke was he,
+       Of credit and renown,"
+
+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.
+
+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!
+
+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,--
+
+    "Come, fill up my cup, come, fill up my can;
+    Come, saddle your horses, and call up your men!
+    Come, open the west port, and let us gang free,
+    And it's room for the bonnets of Bonny Dundee!"
+
+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.
+
+A muster, boys--Well, I never saw a muster, myself; but it must have
+been something like this:--
+
+A mixture of guns and gingerbread; men and music; horses and hard
+cider.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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 _he_
+grew up.
+
+    "Saddled and bridled and booted rode he,
+    A plume at his helmet,
+    A sword at his knee."
+
+It seemed to be the general impression 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.
+
+"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."
+
+The boys remembered "the father of his country" for a while, but before
+the close of the afternoon forgot him entirely. There 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.
+
+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.
+
+"Hard stuff," said Willy, draining his mug. "I don't like it much."
+
+"Why, it's tip-top," returned Fred. "My father says it's the best he
+ever saw."
+
+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."
+
+Dr. Hilton, who seemed to be everywhere at once, heard them say that,
+and exclaimed,--
+
+"Then I wouldn't drink any more of it, boys. Hard cider does make
+anybody dreadful cross. Better let it alone."
+
+I fear the boys did not follow this advice, for certain it is that they
+grew outrageously cross. The trouble began, I believe, 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.
+
+"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!'"
+
+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.
+
+"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 mug, round at the
+other end of the barrel!"
+
+"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.
+
+"Stop thief! Stop thief!" cried Fred.
+
+"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."
+
+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!
+
+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.
+
+"Tut, tut, Isaac!" said he; "aren't you ashamed? You know that cider was
+a present to the Never-Give-Ups."
+
+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,--
+
+"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!"
+
+"Three cheers for the captain!" cried the boys; and there was another
+uproar.
+
+And how did Fred feel towards the fearless, out-spoken Willy? Very
+angry, of 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.
+
+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.
+
+"Can't you have peace there, you young scamps?" said one of the big boys
+from over the river.
+
+"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.
+
+"Mr. Chase," said Dr. Hilton, struck with a new idea, "those boys act as
+if they were drunk."
+
+"Why, how can they be?" returned Mr. Chase; "they've had nothing to
+drink but innocent cider."
+
+"Any way," cried the doctor, "they are getting up a regular mob, and we
+shall have to _quail_ it!"
+
+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!
+
+Dire disgrace! Their steps were unsteady and slow; their heads were
+bowed, but not with grief, for, to say the truth, they did not fully
+comprehend the situation.
+
+"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.
+
+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.
+
+When Willy came to his senses next morning, there was a guilty feeling
+hanging over him, and his head ached badly. He 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.
+
+"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?
+
+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.
+
+"Off with your jacket, young man!"
+
+Old Dick neighed, Towler growled, the sheep bleated; it seemed as if
+they were all protesting against Willy's being whipped.
+
+"Now, sir," said Mr. Parlin, after a dozen hearty lashes, "shall I ever
+hear of your getting drunk again?"
+
+"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 _let_ me
+drink cider."
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+"Had to take it, I guess, Billy?"
+
+"Yes, an awful whipping," replied Willy; "did you?"
+
+"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 _darsn't_ flog me!"
+
+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.
+
+Willy looked at him with surprise and something like respect. He could
+never seem to learn that Freddy's word was not to be trusted.
+
+"Well, I'll do so next time," cried he, his eyes flashing fire.
+
+"Look here," said Fred, crossing his knees, and looking important;
+"let's run away."
+
+"Why, Fred Chase! 'Twould be wicked!"
+
+"'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."
+
+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.
+
+"Why, where could we go?"
+
+"To sea."
+
+"Poh! our Caleb got flogged going to sea."
+
+"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."
+
+"I never ate a pine-apple."
+
+"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."
+
+"'My son, if sinners entice thee, consent thou not.'"
+
+It seemed as if Willy could hear his mother saying the words.
+
+"You and I are the best kind of friends, Willy. We'd have a real nice
+time, and come home when we got ready."
+
+Willy did not respond to this. He did not care very much about
+Fred,--nobody did,--and if he should be persuaded to go with him, it
+would not be from friendship, most certainly.
+
+"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."
+
+"You're a fool to stand it, Billy."
+
+"I won't stand it again--so there!"
+
+"There, that's real Injun grit," said Fred, approvingly; "stick to it."
+
+"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."
+
+"Well, if you go off he won't get a chance to say it again."
+
+"O, but you see, Fred--"
+
+"Pshaw! you _darsn't_!"
+
+"Now, _you're_ not the one to call me a coward, Fred Chase."
+
+"Well, if you _dars_, then come on."
+
+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."
+
+Without listening to any more of the boys' conversation, we will go
+right on to the next chapter, and see what comes of it.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X.
+
+GOING TO SEA.
+
+
+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.
+
+"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 bad now that it's no use doing anything with
+me. I can't make her understand it at all."
+
+It was a pity he thought of his mother just then, for it was hard
+enough, before that, swallowing his biscuit.
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+"Why, sonny," said Stephen, "what are you staring at your plate so for?
+That's honey. Ever see any before?"
+
+"This is the last chance Steve will have to pester me," thought the
+child; and he almost pitied him.
+
+"Guess he'll feel sorry he's been so hard on a little fellow like me."
+
+As for grown-up Seth, it was certain that _his_ 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!"
+
+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 enough in his heart to crowd out
+every other feeling.
+
+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.
+
+At quarter of seven he put on his cap, and was leaving the house, when
+his father said, severely,--
+
+"Where are you going, young man?"
+
+Mr. Parlin did not mean to be severe, but he usually called Willy a
+"young man" when he was displeased with him.
+
+"Going to the post-office, sir, just as I always do."
+
+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.
+
+"Very well; go! but don't be gone long."
+
+"'_Long?_' 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 _will_ be a young man
+before I get back! Guess there won't be any more horsewhippings then!"
+
+And, dizzy with anger, he walked fast to the post office, without
+turning his head.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+As soon as they were fairly out of sight of the village, Fred said,
+sneeringly,--
+
+"Well, I've been waiting most half an hour--I suppose you know. Began to
+think you'd sneaked out of it, Bill."
+
+There is an insult in the word 'sneak' that no boy of spirit can bear,
+and Willy was in no mood to be insulted.
+
+"Fred Chase," said he, bristling, "I'll give you one minute to take that
+back."
+
+"O, I didn't mean anything, Billy; only you was so awful slow, you
+know."
+
+"Slow, Fred Chase! You needn't call _me_ slow! Bet you I can turn round
+three times while you're putting out one foot."
+
+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.
+
+"Look here, Billy; you can beat me running; I own up to that; but we've
+got to keep together, you know. Don't you get ahead of me--now will
+you?"
+
+"I'll try not to," replied Willy, somewhat softened; "but you do get out
+of breath as easy as a chicken."
+
+"Most time to begin to run?" said Fred, after they had trudged on for
+some time at a moderate pace.
+
+"No; there's a man coming this way," replied the sharper-eyed Willy.
+
+"O, yes; I see him now. Who suppose it is?"
+
+"Why, Dr. Potter, of course. Don't you know him by his _shappo brar_?"
+
+The _chapeau bras_ was a three-cornered hat, the like of which you and I
+have never seen, except in very old pictures.
+
+As Dr. Potter met the boys, he shook his ivory-headed cane, and said,
+playfully, "Good evening, my little men."
+
+"Good evening, sir."
+
+But it was certainly a bad evening inside their hearts, sulky and dark.
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+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 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.
+
+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.
+
+"Stars look kind o' shiny--don't they?" said Fred, heaving a sigh.
+
+Willy forced a gay tone.
+
+"What s'pose makes 'em keep up such a winking? Like rows of pins, you
+know,--gold pins; much as a million of 'em, and somebody sticking 'em
+into a great blue cushion up there, and keeps a-sticking 'em in, but out
+they come again."
+
+"I never heard of such a silly idea in my life," sneered Fred.
+"Pins!--H'm!"
+
+"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."
+
+"Worlds? A likely story, Bill Parlin! Mother has said so lots of times,
+but you don't stuff such a story down _my_ throat."
+
+"Don't believe your mother!" exclaimed Willy, astonished. "Why, I always
+believe my mother. She never made a mistake in her life."
+
+Fred laughed.
+
+"She don't know any more'n anybody else, you ninny! only you think so
+because she makes such a baby of you."
+
+Willy reddened with sudden shame, but retorted sharply,--
+
+"Stop that! You shan't say a word against my mother."
+
+"But you let me talk about your father, though. What's the difference?"
+
+"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."
+
+"That's just what my father thinks," returned Fred.
+
+Whereupon the two boys were friends again, having got back to their one
+point of agreement.
+
+"If I had a boy I wouldn't treat him so,--now I tell you," said Willy,
+clinching his little fists. "I'd let him have a good time when he's
+young."
+
+"So'd I!"
+
+"For when he's old he won't want to have a good time."
+
+"That's so."
+
+"And I wouldn't be stingy to him; I'd let him have all the money he
+could spend."
+
+"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.
+
+"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.
+
+"Nor I, neither! Guess I wouldn't!"
+
+"Poh! what do you know about it, Fred? Your father's rich, and don't
+keep a pig!"
+
+"What if he don't? What hurt does a pig do?"
+
+"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."
+
+"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."
+
+"Well, Fred, we've started to run away."
+
+"Should think it's likely we had."
+
+"I'm going 'cause I can't stand it to be whipped any more; but you don't
+get whipped, Fred. What are _you_ going for?"
+
+"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
+_substraction_, what more does a fellow want?"
+
+"Don't believe you can spell 'phthisic,' though."
+
+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.
+
+"Which way you mean to point, Billy?"
+
+"Why, I thought we were going to sea. That's what you said; and I put a
+lot of nutcakes in my pocket to eat 'fore we got to the ship."
+
+"You did? Well, give us some, then, for I'm about starved."
+
+"So'm I, too."
+
+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.
+
+"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 boy that got whipped so hard he jumped
+overboard."
+
+"Let's not go, then," cried Willy.
+
+"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."
+
+"Let's go lumbering, then."
+
+"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."
+
+"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 _too_ big!"
+
+"O, we shan't chop 'em ourselves," said Fred, spitting grandly. "Wasn't
+my father a lumberman once, and got rich by it? But did _he_ ever cut
+down a tree? What's the use? Hire men, you know."
+
+"O!" exclaimed Willy. But a gleam of common sense striking him next
+moment, he added, "but the money; where'll we get that?"
+
+"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, 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."
+
+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?"
+
+"Come, let's start," said he, rising eagerly, as the bell rang for nine.
+"If we are going to the Forks we must go to Harlow first; I know that
+much."
+
+And turning the corner at the left, the two wise little pilgrims set out
+upon their travels,--
+
+    "Strange countries for to see."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI.
+
+TO THE FORKS.
+
+
+Willy started upon the run; but Fred, as soon as he could overtake him,
+and speak for puffing, exclaimed,--
+
+"Now, Will Parlin, what's the use? We've got a good start, and let's
+take it fair and easy."
+
+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
+lithe as a young deer, he preferred "bounding over the plains" to
+lagging along with such a slow walker as Fred.
+
+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.
+
+"I've got two dollars in my pocket," said he, "and I guess we shan't
+starve _this_ fall."
+
+Willy thought of the eighteen cents he had been six weeks in saving, but
+was ashamed to speak of such a small sum.
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+"What's the matter with you, Fred Chase?"
+
+"Don't know. Guess you haven't got the right tune."
+
+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.
+
+"Look here: what tune have I been whistling now? See if you know?"
+
+"Why, that's--that's--some kind of a dancing tune. Can't think. O, yes;
+'Old Hundred.'"
+
+"Fred Chase!" thundered Willy; "that's _'Yankee Doodle_!' Anybody that
+don't know Yankee Doodle _must_ be a fool!"
+
+"Why, look here now: I know Yankee Doodle as well as you do, Will
+Parlin, only you didn't whistle it right!"
+
+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.
+
+"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."
+
+"Could, hey! Then why didn't you ever do it?"
+
+"Do you mean to say I don' know how to march? Know how as well as you
+do."
+
+"Think's likely," snarled Willy, "for _I_ can't march if I have _you_ to
+march with. Can't keep step with anybody that ain't bright!"
+
+"Nor I can't, either, Will Parlin; that's why I can't keep step with
+you."
+
+"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."
+
+"Go to the other side of the road your own self, and see how you like
+it," retorted Fred. "I won't have _you_ here, with your tramp, tramp,
+tramp."
+
+Was ever anybody so provoking as Fred? Willy had an impulse to give him
+a hard 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.
+
+"Guess I'll drop down here side of the road, and rest a minute," said
+he.
+
+"So'll I," said Fred, always ready for a halt if not for a march.
+
+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.
+
+"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."
+
+Willy rose to his feet, promptly.
+
+"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?"
+
+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 _his_ 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.
+
+"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 think it's fair
+to plague me about it now."
+
+"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."
+
+Willy was too polite this time, or perhaps too sleepy, to contradict.
+
+It did seem as if the road to Harlow was the longest, and the hills the
+steepest, ever known.
+
+"Call it twelve miles--it's twenty!" said Fred, beginning to limp.
+
+"Would be twenty-five," said Willy, "if the hills were rolled out
+smooth."
+
+They trudged on as bravely as they could, but, in spite of the cold, had
+to stop now and then to rest, and by the time they had gone eight miles
+it seemed as if they could hold out no longer.
+
+"I shouldn't be tired if I were in your place," said Fred; "it's my
+feet, you know."
+
+"Here's a barn," exclaimed Willy, joyfully.
+
+"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."
+
+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."
+
+"It won't do to stay long," said Fred, "for it must be 'most sunrise;
+and we should be in a pretty fix if anybody should go by and catch us."
+
+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.
+
+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 _not_ to say it? So he breathed it softly
+to himself, lest Fred should hear and laugh at him.
+
+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.
+
+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,--
+
+"Who's this? How came you here?"
+
+Willy stared at the man without speaking. Was it to-night, or last
+night, or to-morrow night?
+
+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.
+
+"Who are you? What are you here for?" repeated he.
+
+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.
+
+"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 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.
+
+"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."
+
+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?
+
+"Quirk? Quirk? I don't know any Quirks round in these parts," said the
+farmer.
+
+"O, we live up yonder," said Fred, pointing with his finger. "We live
+two miles beyond Harlow, and we were down 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."
+
+"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?"
+
+"Some kind of a fever; and he don't know anything; he's awful sick,"
+replied Fred, running his sleeve across his eyes.
+
+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.
+
+"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."
+
+"O, I don't know as we can; we ought to be going," said Fred, wiping his
+eyes; "father may be dead."
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+Mr. Johonnet thought himself a shrewd man, but he could not see into the
+hearts of these young children. He liked the appearance 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.
+
+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 well have
+helped himself. So much for falling into bad company. "Eggs should not
+dance with stones."
+
+"Well; I never'd have come with Fred Chase if father hadn't whipped me
+'most to death."
+
+And, soothed with this flimsy excuse, Willy was soon asleep again.
+
+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.
+
+"Poor children, they must eat," said he; "for they've got to get home to
+see their sick father."
+
+There were so many questions to be asked, that the boys made quick work
+of their breakfast and hurried away.
+
+"There, glad we're out of that scrape," said Fred.
+
+"But _didn't_ you lie? Why, Fred, how could you lie so?"
+
+"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."
+
+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!
+
+"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."
+
+It was three miles farther to Harlow, and Fred grumbled all the way
+about his sore feet.
+
+"See that yellow house through the trees?" said he. "That's my uncle
+Diah's; wish we could go there and rest."
+
+"But what's the use to wish?" returned Willy. "Look here, Fred; isn't
+there a ford somewhere near here?"
+
+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.
+
+"That's the Harlow driver; he knows us," cried Fred; "let's hide quick."
+
+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.
+
+"Good!" said Willy; "there's the ford, and now we know. And the water
+isn't up to the horses' knees; so _we_ can cross well enough."
+
+"Yes, and get our breeches wet," groaned Fred.
+
+"O, that's nothing. Lumbermen don't mind wet breeches," said Willy,
+cheerily.
+
+"Lumbermen? Who said we were lumbermen? I shan't try it yet a while; my
+feet are too plaguy sore!"
+
+"Shan't try what?"
+
+"Well, nothing, I guess," yawned Fred; "lumber nor nothing else."
+
+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.
+
+"Look here, Billy; if you see any fun in this business, _I_ don't!"
+
+"Fun? O, but we don't spect that, you know," said heroic Willy, stepping
+into the stream.
+
+"Cold as ice, I know by the way you cringe," said lazy Fred, who had not
+yet untied his shoes.
+
+"Come on, Fred; who minds the cold?"
+
+"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."
+
+"Do come on and behave yourself," called back Willy; "when we get rich
+we'll have the fun."
+
+"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."
+
+Willy stopped short.
+
+"But you are going to the Forks with me?"
+
+"Who said I was?"
+
+"Why, you said so, yourself. You were the one that put it in my head."
+
+"O, that was only talk. I didn't mean anything."
+
+Willy turned square round in the water, and glared at Fred, with eyes
+that seemed to shoot sparks of fire.
+
+[Illustration: DESERTED.--Page 195.]
+
+"Yes--well, yes, I did kind of mean to, too," cried Fred, shrinking
+under the gaze; "but I've got awful sick of it."
+
+"Who called me a SNEAK?" exclaimed Willy, his voice shaking with wrath.
+"Who called me my mamma's cry-baby? Who said he spected I'd back out?"
+
+"But you see, Billy, my feet!"
+
+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.
+
+"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."
+
+"And what about _me_, Fred Chase?"
+
+"You? Why, you may go where you're a mind to."
+
+"What? Me, that you coaxed so to come?"
+
+Fred quailed before the look and the tone.
+
+"Well, I'd take you to uncle Diah's, Willy, only--well--I can't very
+well, that's all."
+
+Willy suddenly turned his back, and cleared the stream with one bound.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII.
+
+"I HA'E NAEBODY NOW."
+
+
+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.
+
+"The tormentable, mean, naughty boy! I'd be ashamed to treat a _skeeter_
+the way he's treated me! Did I ever coax a boy to go anywhere with me,
+and then run off and leave him right in the middle of the river? No,
+_sir_. 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!
+
+"Well, he's backed out, Fred Chase has! I should think he'd feel so mean
+he never'd want to show _his_ head anywhere again! 'Fore I'd _sneak
+out_ when I got started! Eh, for shame!"
+
+Willy tore up a handful of grass, and threw it into the road, and the
+action served to relieve him a little.
+
+"Well, what'll _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!
+
+"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, '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!"
+
+Willy sighed, but soon roused himself.
+
+"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.
+
+"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 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 _won't_ 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!
+
+"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. 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:--
+
+"'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.'
+
+"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! Bad heart, though, or I wouldn't be so bad myself.
+
+"Well, it's no use to think about badness or goodness now," said Willy,
+flinging another handful of grass into the road. "_What'll I do?_ That's
+the question.
+
+"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!"
+
+And completely disgusted with himself, he jumped up and turned a
+somerset.
+
+"Better be whipped three times a day than be a girl!
+
+"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 s'pose she thought last night, when I didn't come back
+from the post office?"
+
+This question had tried to rise before, but had always been forced back.
+
+"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_ mend their trousis for 'em, when they tore 'em on a nail,
+going where I told 'em not to? For, says I, I can't bear the sight of a
+child that won't mind. But you see, mother--
+
+"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.
+
+"Yes, mother wants _me_. I remember that song she sings about the Scotch
+woman that lost her baby, and she cries a little before she gets
+through."
+
+The words were set to a plaintive air, and Willy hummed it over to
+himself,--
+
+    "I ha'e naebody now, I ha'e naebody now
+       To clasp at my bosom at even,
+    O'er his calm sleep to breathe out a vow,
+       And pray for the blessing of Heaven."
+
+"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!
+
+"WHAT'LL I DO? Wish I hadn't come. Wish I'd thought more about
+mother--how she's going to feel.
+
+"What if I should turn right round now, and go home? Why, father'd whip
+me worse'n ever--_that's_ 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."
+
+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 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 _Somewhere_, where boys lived
+without whippings. But the thought of his mother always stopped him.
+
+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,--
+
+    "I ha'e naebody now, I ha'e naebody now."
+
+"But I'd never go back and take that whipping, if it wasn't for mother!"
+
+He no longer felt obliged to hide from 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.
+
+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.
+
+He had eighteen cents in his wallet; but what good did it do, when there
+was no 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.
+
+Beginning to think he would almost be willing to be whipped for the sake
+of a good supper, he rose and walked on.
+
+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?
+
+No, it was only Seth and Stephen; but Seth was almost as much to be
+dreaded as Mr. Parlin himself.
+
+"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?"
+
+"Up to Harlow, to Mr. Diah's," replied Willy, and coolly climbed into
+the wagon.
+
+"Better wait for an invitation. How do you know we shall let you ride?"
+said Stephen, turning the horse's head towards home.
+
+"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.
+
+"I suppose you are aware that you have been a very wicked, deceitful,
+disobedient boy?"
+
+Willy made no reply, but lay down on the floor of the wagon, and curled
+himself up like a caterpillar.
+
+"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?"
+
+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,--
+
+"Yes, I did mean to, too."
+
+A little more, and he would have told 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,--
+
+"You saucy child!"
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"Meant to run away--did you?" went on Seth, who ought to have known
+better 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."
+
+"Come, now, don't kick a fellow when he's down," said Stephen. "Willy
+will be ashamed enough of this."
+
+"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?"
+
+No answer.
+
+"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?"
+
+No answer.
+
+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.
+
+"Poor little thing," said he, "I guess he's had a pretty hard cruise of
+it; he's sound asleep."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII.
+
+CONCLUSION.
+
+
+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.
+
+O, her baby--her baby; what had happened to her dear wee Willie?
+
+"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."
+
+"I--want--some--supper," moaned the little rebel, waking up just as they
+were laying him on his bed in the pink chamber.
+
+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.
+
+"O, mother, mother, I'll never do so again."
+
+"My darling, I am sure you never will."
+
+"Where's father?"
+
+"Down stairs in the dining-room, I think."
+
+"Well, I'm ready; will you tell him I'm ready," cried Willy, drawing a
+quick breath.
+
+"Ready for what, dear?"
+
+"Well, he is going to whip me, I suppose, and I want it over with."
+
+"And how do you feel about it, my son? Don't you think you deserve to be
+whipped?"
+
+"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."
+
+"That's nobly said, my child," exclaimed Mr. Parlin, stepping out of the
+large clothes-press. "I happened to be in there over-hauling the trunk
+that has my Freemason clothes in it, and I couldn't but overhear what
+you've been saying."
+
+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.
+
+"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."
+
+Willy opened his eyes very wide.
+
+"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."
+
+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!
+
+"You were in a shameful state that night, Willy; I can't call it
+anything else but _drunk_; but I know now how it happened; there was
+brandy in the cider."
+
+"Brandy, papa?"
+
+"Yes. Dr. Potter and I examined the barrel yesterday, and the mixture in
+it was at least one third brandy."
+
+"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."
+
+"Yes, Willy; so you told me when I talked with you; and I didn't believe
+you then; but I believe you now."
+
+"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 that moment to know that his father trusted him, than
+to know he would not be punished.
+
+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.
+
+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 "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.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+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.
+
+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 _Little Grandfather_.
+
+
+
+
+
+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.txt or 25481.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.  Special rules,
+set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to
+copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to
+protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark.  Project
+Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you
+charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission.  If you
+do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the
+rules is very easy.  You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose
+such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and
+research.  They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do
+practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks.  Redistribution is
+subject to the trademark license, especially commercial
+redistribution.
+
+
+
+*** START: FULL LICENSE ***
+
+THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE
+PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK
+
+To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free
+distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work
+(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project
+Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project
+Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at
+https://gutenberg.org/license).
+
+
+Section 1.  General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic works
+
+1.A.  By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to
+and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property
+(trademark/copyright) agreement.  If you do not agree to abide by all
+the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy
+all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession.
+If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the
+terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or
+entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8.
+
+1.B.  "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark.  It may only be
+used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who
+agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement.  There are a few
+things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works
+even without complying with the full terms of this agreement.  See
+paragraph 1.C below.  There are a lot of things you can do with Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement
+and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works.  See paragraph 1.E below.
+
+1.C.  The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation"
+or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic works.  Nearly all the individual works in the
+collection are in the public domain in the United States.  If an
+individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are
+located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from
+copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative
+works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg
+are removed.  Of course, we hope that you will support the Project
+Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by
+freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of
+this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with
+the work.  You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by
+keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project
+Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others.
+
+1.D.  The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern
+what you can do with this work.  Copyright laws in most countries are in
+a constant state of change.  If you are outside the United States, check
+the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement
+before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or
+creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project
+Gutenberg-tm work.  The Foundation makes no representations concerning
+the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United
+States.
+
+1.E.  Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg:
+
+1.E.1.  The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate
+access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently
+whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the
+phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project
+Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed,
+copied or distributed:
+
+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
+
+1.E.2.  If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived
+from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is
+posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied
+and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees
+or charges.  If you are redistributing or providing access to a work
+with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the
+work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1
+through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the
+Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or
+1.E.9.
+
+1.E.3.  If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted
+with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution
+must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional
+terms imposed by the copyright holder.  Additional terms will be linked
+to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the
+permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work.
+
+1.E.4.  Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this
+work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm.
+
+1.E.5.  Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this
+electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without
+prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with
+active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project
+Gutenberg-tm License.
+
+1.E.6.  You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary,
+compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any
+word processing or hypertext form.  However, if you provide access to or
+distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than
+"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version
+posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org),
+you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a
+copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon
+request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other
+form.  Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1.
+
+1.E.7.  Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying,
+performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works
+unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9.
+
+1.E.8.  You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing
+access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided
+that
+
+- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from
+     the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method
+     you already use to calculate your applicable taxes.  The fee is
+     owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he
+     has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the
+     Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation.  Royalty payments
+     must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you
+     prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax
+     returns.  Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and
+     sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the
+     address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to
+     the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation."
+
+- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies
+     you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he
+     does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+     License.  You must require such a user to return or
+     destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium
+     and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of
+     Project Gutenberg-tm works.
+
+- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any
+     money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the
+     electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days
+     of receipt of the work.
+
+- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free
+     distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works.
+
+1.E.9.  If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set
+forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from
+both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael
+Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark.  Contact the
+Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below.
+
+1.F.
+
+1.F.1.  Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable
+effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread
+public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm
+collection.  Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain
+"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or
+corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual
+property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a
+computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by
+your equipment.
+
+1.F.2.  LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right
+of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project
+Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project
+Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all
+liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal
+fees.  YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT
+LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE
+PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3.  YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE
+TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE
+LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR
+INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH
+DAMAGE.
+
+1.F.3.  LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a
+defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can
+receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a
+written explanation to the person you received the work from.  If you
+received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with
+your written explanation.  The person or entity that provided you with
+the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a
+refund.  If you received the work electronically, the person or entity
+providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to
+receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund.  If the second copy
+is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further
+opportunities to fix the problem.
+
+1.F.4.  Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth
+in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER
+WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO
+WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE.
+
+1.F.5.  Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied
+warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages.
+If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the
+law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be
+interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by
+the applicable state law.  The invalidity or unenforceability of any
+provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions.
+
+1.F.6.  INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the
+trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone
+providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance
+with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production,
+promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works,
+harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees,
+that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do
+or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm
+work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any
+Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause.
+
+
+Section  2.  Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of
+electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers
+including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers.  It exists
+because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from
+people in all walks of life.
+
+Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the
+assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's
+goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will
+remain freely available for generations to come.  In 2001, the Project
+Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure
+and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations.
+To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation
+and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4
+and the Foundation web page at https://www.pglaf.org.
+
+
+Section 3.  Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive
+Foundation
+
+The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit
+501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the
+state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal
+Revenue Service.  The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification
+number is 64-6221541.  Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at
+https://pglaf.org/fundraising.  Contributions to the Project Gutenberg
+Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent
+permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws.
+
+The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S.
+Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered
+throughout numerous locations.  Its business office is located at
+809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email
+business@pglaf.org.  Email contact links and up to date contact
+information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official
+page at https://pglaf.org
+
+For additional contact information:
+     Dr. Gregory B. Newby
+     Chief Executive and Director
+     gbnewby@pglaf.org
+
+
+Section 4.  Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg
+Literary Archive Foundation
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide
+spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of
+increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be
+freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest
+array of equipment including outdated equipment.  Many small donations
+($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt
+status with the IRS.
+
+The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating
+charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United
+States.  Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a
+considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up
+with these requirements.  We do not solicit donations in locations
+where we have not received written confirmation of compliance.  To
+SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any
+particular state visit https://pglaf.org
+
+While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we
+have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition
+against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who
+approach us with offers to donate.
+
+International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make
+any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from
+outside the United States.  U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff.
+
+Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation
+methods and addresses.  Donations are accepted in a number of other
+ways including including checks, online payments and credit card
+donations.  To donate, please visit: https://pglaf.org/donate
+
+
+Section 5.  General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works.
+
+Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm
+concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared
+with anyone.  For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project
+Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support.
+
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed
+editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S.
+unless a copyright notice is included.  Thus, we do not necessarily
+keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition.
+
+
+Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility:
+
+     https://www.gutenberg.org
+
+This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm,
+including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary
+Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to
+subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks.