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.. meta::
   :PG.Id: 53074
   :PG.Title: Professor Johnny
   :PG.Released: 2016-09-17
   :PG.Rights: Public Domain
   :PG.Producer: Al Haines
   :DC.Creator: JĀK (Annie Bowles Williams)
   :DC.Title: Professor Johnny
   :DC.Language: en
   :DC.Created: 1887
   :coverpage: images/img-cover.jpg

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PROFESSOR JOHNNY
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   .. _`"How far off you can see at these front windows!" said Sue.—Page 44.`:

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      :alt: "How far off you can see at these front windows!" said Sue.—Page 44.

      "How far off you can see at these front windows!" said Sue.—Page `44`_.

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      PROFESSOR JOHNNY

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      BY JAK

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      AUTHOR OF "BIRCHWOOD," "FITCH CLUB," "RIVERSIDE MUSEUM"

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      logo

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      NEW YORK
      THOMAS Y. CROWELL & CO.
      13 ASTOR PLACE

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      COPYRIGHT, 1887,
      BY THOMAS \Y. CROWELL & CO.

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      RAND AVERY COMPANY,
      ELECTROTYPERS AND PRINTERS,
      BOSTON.

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   *CONTENTS.*

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   CHAPTER

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I.  `An Accidental Experiment`_
II.  `The "Illustrated Lecture"`_
III.  `The Sky-room`_
IV.  `The Unwelcome Guest`_
V.  `Compromises`_
VI.  `Two Lessons from Nature`_
VII.  `Pierre's Story`_
VIII.  `At the Cottage`_
IX.  `Lost`_
X.  `Trouble`_
XI.  `Going for Ruth`_
XII.  `The Day`_
XIII.  `Going to the Harbor`_
XIV.  `Odds and Ends`_





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.. _`AN ACCIDENTAL EXPERIMENT`:

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   *PROFESSOR JOHNNY.*

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   CHAPTER I.

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   AN ACCIDENTAL EXPERIMENT.

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Johnny had been named The Professor by
some of his young friends, because he wore
spectacles, was fond of studying natural
philosophy and chemistry, and of performing
experiments.  He had become so used to the name
that he did not mind it much, even when some
of the rude boys in the street called him
Professor or Prof.  His merry little sister Sue, also,
was quite as apt to call him Prof. as Johnny.

One evening in June, Johnny and Sue were
at home alone.  Their father and mother were
making calls; and Kate, the girl, had gone out
marketing.  It was not very uncommon for them
to be in the house alone; for although Sue was
rather wild and thoughtless, Johnny was very
quiet and thoughtful, and Sue had been taught
to mind him when her parents were away.

Johnny had been reading, and Sue amusing
herself by undressing her doll and putting it to
bed; but after the doll was in bed, and
supposedly sound asleep, she could not think of
any thing else to do by herself, and so began to
tease Johnny to put up his book and play with
her.  Johnny was so much interested in his
book that he paid but little attention to her at
first, merely replying that he would play by and
by.  But finally Sue took hold of his book
playfully, saying,—

"I mean to take away your book, for you
have read long enough: mamma would say so
herself if she were here."

Johnny laughed.

"That's a very handy excuse for you: whenever
you want me to play, you have a sudden
anxiety about my eyes."

"But you know it's just what papa and
mamma say, that you read too much, and they
ask you to stop reading a good deal oftener than
I do.  I'm sure, if they had been here, you
would have had to put up that book half an
hour ago."

"I shouldn't wonder if you were right about
that.  Well, what shall we do?  Shall we play
checkers?"

"Oh, no! don't let's play any thing still: let's
romp a little."

"Romp!" exclaimed Johnny, making up a
comical face.  "You know I hate romping.
Let us play a game of chess."

"No: you always beat me at those games,
and so it isn't any fun; but I can beat you at
romping, and so I like it.  Besides, papa and
mamma say it is better for you to exercise
more, and they like to have you romp with me."

"I should think you were setting up for a
doctress, if I didn't know you better.  You are
the greatest girl to get up excuses for whatever
you want to do.  But I suppose there'll be no
peace until I romp."

Johnny put down his book with a sigh and a
smile.  Sue said, "Come, let's play tag.  Catch
me if you can!" and ran off into the dining-room.
As the gas was only lighted in the front
hall and in the sitting-room, it was pretty dark
in the dining-room; but this suited Sue all the
better: she ran around the table, with Johnny
after her; and, as she hit now and then against
the table, the dishes rattled ominously.  She
was laughing uproariously all the time, and
evidently thought of nothing but the sport of
dodging Johnny, at all risks.

"This won't do," said Johnny, coming to a
stand-still, as Sue, in trying to escape him as
he turned suddenly in the direction in which
she was running, knocked over a pitcher near
the end of the table: "we shall be sure to
break something before long, at this rate."

"Let's go into the kitchen, then," replied
Sue: "there isn't any fire in the stove, and we
can't hurt any thing there.  It'll be real nice
and dark too: I'll bet I can hide where you
can't find me."

"All right," said Johnny; and Sue danced into
the kitchen, and hid behind the door.  Johnny
cornered her at once, however; for it happened
to be lighter there than in the dining-room.

"Why, this is real queer!" exclaimed Sue, in
a half vexed tone, as Johnny pulled her from
her hiding-place: "it isn't dark here a single
mite!"

"So it isn't," replied Johnny.  "I wonder
what makes it so light!  The light comes in
at the window.  There must be a lamp in the
shed, or out on the platform."

Johnny opened the door and went out.  Sue
followed him.  The "platform" extended some
little distance from the back-door, and was
covered by a roof: it might have been called a
piazza or a porch but for its width.  At the side
of the "platform" was what Johnny called the
"shed:" it had been intended only for storage
of wood and coal, but was so large that a small
summer kitchen had been partitioned off next
to the kitchen, with a door into the kitchen,
and another opening upon the platform.  This
kitchen was used in warm weather for baking,
washing, and ironing, in order to keep the heat
out of the house.  Kate had been ironing that
afternoon, and the fire in the stove had not
gone out.

As soon as they were outside the door, Sue
set up a cry of alarm.

"Fire!  Fire!" she cried.  "The house is on
fire!  O Johnny, let's run off! we shall get
burned up!"

Johnny stood quite still, and said nothing.

"O Johnny! come! come! what makes you
stand there?  It's going to explode!  It'll reach
over here, and set the house on fire!  Let's run
out into the street, and call some one to come!
What makes you stand there, and not call out?
You'll let the house burn up!  But I shan't go
and let you be burned up: you've got to come too!"

She took hold of his jacket, and pulled with
all her might; for she thought Johnny was too
frightened to stir.

"Keep still, Sue: I'm thinking," he replied,
looking calmly and fixedly at the alarming light
in the shed-window.  "I can't get at it through
this door very well: I guess I'll go around
through the kitchen-door."

"You ain't going near it?" cried Sue, in
astonishment and alarm.

"Of course I am: I can't put it out without
going near it."

"You sha'n't do it!  There!  It's getting
worse than ever!  O Johnny, come in!—It's
going to explode this minute!"

Johnny came in, but it was not on account of
Sue's direction: he had just thought what to do.

The danger proceeded from a kerosene-lamp
which stood in the summer kitchen, on a table,
near the window facing the platform.  It was
streaming up very high, and blazing in a very
remarkable and peculiar manner, as if on the
point of instant explosion: the flashing and
flickering were what had lighted up the kitchen
so strangely.

On entering the kitchen, Johnny seized a
piece of carpet which was in front of the sink,
and ran with it toward the inner door of the
shed.

"You sha'n't go in there, Johnny!" cried
Sue.  "You're going to kill yourself, and me,
too, 'cause I sha'n't run away and leave you;"
and she began to cry bitterly.  But Johnny
hurried on into the shed, and Sue dared not
follow him: she was only just brave enough not
to run out of the house, and leave him there to
die or be horribly burned alone.

Just then Kate returned.  As she stepped
upon the platform, and saw the alarming spectacle,
she screamed wildly, "Fire! help! help!"  Just
at that moment, too, a boy in the neighborhood,
who had heard Sue's cries, came rushing
into the yard.  Hearing Kate's outcry, and
seeing the blaze in the shed, he rushed into the
street, shouting "Fire!" at the top of his voice,
and telling everybody he met that the back
part of Mr. Le Bras' house was all in a blaze.
The first man who heard the news gave the
signal at the alarm-box at the corner.

But before Kate or Sue could scream again,
Johnny had darted through the inner door, and
thrown the rug over the lamp.

"O Johnny!  Johnny! run! run! it'll explode
now, sure!" cried Kate wildly, thinking the
carpet would send the blaze down into the lamp
instantly.  But all was in darkness.

"Johnny!  Oh! where is he?" screamed Sue,
almost fancying he must have died with the
blaze somehow.

"Sure, and there ain't any fire now at all!"
said Kate, in wonderment.  "Where are you,
Johnny?"

"Here I am," said a calm voice at her elbow.
"Didn't that go out quickly?  I knew it would
as soon as the rug was over it, but I was a
little afraid it might explode before I could get it
covered: I didn't really believe it would, though;
for father says he is always very careful to get
the best of kerosene."

"What a brave boy!" said Kate admiringly.
"But you oughtn't to have risked your life so,
Johnny.  And what could have ailed that lamp?
I'll light a candle, and go and see what the
matter was; for I don't dare touch another kerosene-lamp.
I left that one all right when I went off,
about an hour and a half ago."

After lighting the gas in the kitchen, Kate
lighted a candle, and entered the shed,
preceded by Johnny.  Sue still feared it was
unsafe, and stood on the platform, telling them
they had better not go in.

Kate took up the end of the rug, and peered
cautiously underneath, prepared to run and pull
Johnny after her if there was a spark of fire
left; but, as all was dark, she assisted Johnny
to remove the rug.  The lamp appeared to be
all right.  Johnny put his hand upon the glass
portion.

"Why, see how hot it is, Katie!" he said: "it
must have got heated standing in this little
warm room so near the stove, and that made
the kerosene swell, I guess, and go up in the
wick, and run over at the top; and so the kerosene
was on fire on the outside,—that was all."

"That was all!" exclaimed Sue, who had now
ventured to follow them.  "Well, I should think
that was enough.  I never was so scared in all
my life.—But there's a fire somewhere, for
there's the bell ringing."

"Sure enough," said Johnny; "and it's our
box too!"

At that moment, a number of men and boys
came running into the yard.

"Where's the fire?" said the foremost man,
as he stepped hurriedly upon the platform.

"There isn't any fire here," replied Johnny:
"a kerosene-lamp was blazing, that's all; but
we've put it out."

Then the men went off laughing, and the
boys hooting.  Kate let the fire down in the
grate, saying she was going to have every spark
of fire out in that stove before she went to bed;
and the children went back into the sitting-room.

"Well, Sue," said Johnny, "I hope you've had
all the romping you want for this evening."

Just then a key turned hurriedly in the door,
and Mr. Le Bras entered, followed by Mrs. Le
Bras.  Mr. Le Bras glanced at Sue and Johnny
without saying a word; and Mrs. Le Bras sank
into a chair, looking very pale and helpless.
Mr. Le Bras went to the dining-room and got
some water, without saying a word to the
children, who stood by in great alarm.

"What is the matter with mamma?" asked
Sue, in a hushed voice.

Mr. Le Bras offered his wife the water, but
she shook her head.  "I shall feel better
presently," she said, in a faint voice.  "Can the
house be on fire, and they not know it, Frank?"

"No, indeed," replied Mr. Le Bras; "and I
told you the engine would not have gone back
into the engine-house unless it were a false
alarm, or the fire was put out."  Then he said,
turning to Johnny, "The fire has been put out,
hasn't it, my son?"

"Yes," said Johnny: "it wasn't any thing
but a kerosene-lamp blazing up in the summer
kitchen."

"And 'twas Johnny who put it out," said Sue.

"Sue and Katie screamed, and made the
alarm," said Johnny.—"So they got the engine
started, did they?"

"Yes," replied Mr. Le Bras: "it was just
going back into the engine-house when we
came by there.  As we turned the corner, we
heard a man saying our house was on fire; and
I thought your mother would die before I got
her home, although I called her attention to
the fact that the engine was going back."

"I feel better now," said Mrs. Le Bras.  "So
there hasn't been a fire at all!  I never had
such a fright before in all my life!"

But Mrs. Le Bras was still so nervous that
her husband would not allow the children to
talk about the accident any more, after they and
Katie had fully explained the occurrence.  The
conversation regarding it was ended for the
evening by Johnny's saying to his father, "That
was a pretty good experiment to illustrate how
soon a fire will stop if the supply of oxygen is
cut off: only it was an accidental experiment."

"It could not properly be called an experiment,"
replied his father: "an experiment is
something done purposely; but it answered the
same purpose."

"I don't understand why the fire went out
when Johnny threw the rug over it," said Sue.

"That's what I can't understand," added Kate.

"I'll explain it to you to-morrow," said Johnny.
"Alec Miner is coming over to-morrow after
school to see me perform some experiments:
and while I am performing some of them, I will
explain how a fire is caused by the uniting of
oxygen with carbon and hydrogen; for it is
nothing but a chemical union, like ever so
many that can be made; only it is so common
that folks don't think any thing about it."

"So common that folks don't think about
it?" said Sue.

"Johnny has stated it very well," said Mr. Le
Bras, smiling.  "If you saw a fire for the
first time, Sue, you would be very anxious to
know what produced the heat and the bright
light; but because you have seen the phenomenon
so often, ever since you can remember,
you never think to ask the cause of it."





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.. _`THE "ILLUSTRATED LECTURE"`:

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   CHAPTER II.


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   THE "ILLUSTRATED LECTURE."

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Something happened the next day to disturb
Johnny's naturally good spirits.  When
he got home from school at noon, Sue met him
at the door with,—

"Something has happened to make you feel
awful bad, Johnny.  It came this morning in a
letter; and mamma said I might prepare your
mind for it, but I mustn't tell you right out in
the first place."

Mr. Le Bras, who was in the sitting-room
when Sue made this announcement, began to
laugh heartily.

"Well, well, Sue!" he said: "if your mother
heard how well you tell bad news, I am afraid
she would not trust you to do it again.  Why,
you have given Johnny a regular bomb-shell to
begin with!"

"I guess it isn't any thing so bad as you
pretend, Sue, since father is laughing at it,"
replied Johnny cheerfully, although his face had
fallen considerably before his father began to
laugh.

"I'll bet you," said Sue, looking quite
disturbed at her father's interference in her
news-telling, "that he's only laughing so as not to
let you think it's so bad as it is: but now he's
begun, he can tell it to you his own self; though
mother said I might."

Sue went off into the dining-room, where
Kate was, with tears in her eyes, and something
very like a pout about her mouth.

"I think papa was too bad!" she said.

"What is it, father?" asked Johnny, after
Sue had disappeared.

"I think I'll let Sue tell, when she gets over
her pet," replied Mr. Le Bras.  "The heavens
are not going to fall, Johnny.  I think you are
enough of a philosopher to rise above the
calamity, although I really suppose you will feel
pretty badly in the first place."

"This is funny enough," said Johnny, not
knowing whether to laugh or feel anxious:
although, of course, he saw it must be only an
individual annoyance pertaining to himself, and
not a household misfortune, since his father
was inclined to laugh so heartily over it.

Just then Mrs. Le Bras entered the room.

"Mother," asked Johnny, "what dreadful thing
has happened to me?"

"Hasn't Sue told you?" replied his mother.

"No," said Johnny, and he related what had
occurred.  Mrs. Le Bras smiled.  "Very well.
Sue has prepared your mind for it, then, and
your father has shown that it is something that
can be lived through: I think that will do until
Sue gets ready to tell you the rest; for,
although she is inclined to be sulky, I think I
will not break my promise of letting her tell
you, unless she gets to be very naughty indeed."

Kate then announced that dinner was ready;
and they all went into the dining-room, and sat
down at the table.  Sue was there in her place
by Johnny's side; but she said nothing more
about the bad news, and looked quite dignified
as well as very sober.

"Come, Sue," said Johnny coaxingly, "tell
me what has happened."

"No: papa can tell you, since he couldn't let
me do it my own self."

"I don't see what bad news could possibly
come to me in a letter."

"But there has, and that's all I'm going to
say about it: papa can tell you," replied Sue
resolutely.

"Don't tease Sue to tell you," said his
mother.  "If it were good news, you would
naturally be anxious to hear it; but since Sue
assures you that it is bad news, the longer you
are ignorant of it the better."

"Only it rather keeps me in suspense," said
Johnny, smiling.—"Come, Sue, tell me, please."

"No, I sha'n't," said Sue, shaking her head
resolutely.

Mr. Le Bras gave Johnny a look which meant,
"Don't ask her to tell;" and nothing more was
said about the bad news that noon.  Johnny
went off to school in quite good spirits: and
when he got home, and found Alec there, and
his sister Belle with him, he was wholly forgetful
of the calamitous news in store for him; so
that he had quite a little respite between the
first hint of the coming misfortune and the
bitter realization of it which arrived shortly
afterwards.

After talking upon ordinary topics with his
visitors for a little while, Johnny said, "Since
you wanted to see some little experiments, if
you will go up in my laboratory I will perform
a few.  As I haven't any but the very simplest
apparatus, and besides don't know much about
chemistry and philosophy, I can't show you
much; but I'll do the best I can."

"You know a good deal more than I do,"
replied Alec.  "I expect to study chemistry and
philosophy at the high school next year; but I
don't know any thing about them now, and, of
course, Belle don't; she just came over with me
out of curiosity, when I told her you had
promised to show me how to do a few experiments
if I would come over to-day."

"Is there any particular subject you would
like to have illustrated?" asked Johnny politely.

"No," replied Alec: "one thing will do just
as well as another."

"Then, perhaps you would like to see how
two chemicals will combine to make a third
entirely different from either of the two."

"Yes," replied Belle, "I should like that very much."

"So should I," said Alec.

"I think I'll call Sue to go into the laboratory
with us, as I promised to show her some
experiments when you were here;—if you will
please excuse me a moment."

Presently Johnny came back with Sue.

As soon as Sue got into the room, she said,
"Johnny's going to tell us all about fire, and
how the rug came to put the lamp out."

Of course, then Johnny had to explain what
Sue meant; and that led to a full account of the
accident of the evening before, and how Sue
and Kate got out the fire-engine, which
interested and amused the visitors very much.

The laboratory was a small room at the end
of the upper hall.  As there were plenty of
rooms up-stairs, there had never been a bed in
it; and after Johnny began to have so many
chemicals, and to experiment so much,
Mrs. Le Bras had taken up the carpet, and allowed
him to use the room for a laboratory.
Mr. Le Bras had hired a carpenter to put some
shelves in the front part of the closet; and
here were arranged the various bottles, jars,
saucers, tumblers, pipes, tubes, and other
appliances which Johnny had collected.

There was a table in the centre of the room,
with a chair beside it.

"I will get some chairs," said Johnny, disappearing
as soon as the guests were ushered in;
while Sue politely offered the chair to Belle.

"Johnny don't have company in the laboratory
very often," she explained.

Johnny came back immediately, bringing two
chairs; but Alec said he did not care to sit
down at present.  As for Johnny, he was very
busy taking things from the closet-shelf, and
arranging them on the table, talking all the time.

"I suppose you know what chemical union
is?" said Johnny to Alec.

"No, I don't think I do," replied Alec hesitatingly.
"That is, although I know what union
means, and what chemical means, I am not sure
what they mean together."

"You know how sugar and salt dissolve in
water, the particles of sugar and salt lying
between the particles of water, just as a whole
lot of different kinds of little seeds might be
all mixed together without uniting at all?"

"I never thought about that before," replied
Alec.  "I didn't suppose fluid could be compared
to seeds; and I had an idea that the salt and
sugar became fluid somehow when they were
dissolved, and so mixed in with the water."

"The particles of the water are very small;
and the sugar and salt, when they come into
contact with water, separate into very tiny
particles, which fill in the places between the
particles of water until there is no room left, and
then all the sugar or salt you put in afterwards
settles to the bottom by itself.  But there is
no union at all between the salt or sugar and
the water; that is, they do not unite to form
any different substance."

While Johnny was saying this, he was pouring
some grayish powder into a cup.  Then he
put an old spoon in the powder, and took a vial
of yellow liquid from the shelf.

"This is whiting," said Johnny.  "If I put
some water on it, and stir them together, I shall
have nothing but whiting and water.  Perhaps
I'd better prove that first."

Here he took out a spoonful of the whiting,
and put it into a little saucer, and poured some
water upon it, and stirred it.

"There you have a mixture similar to sugar
and water, or salt and water; the ingredients
are very closely mixed, but they are not united
to form any different substance; if it should
stand a while, the water would evaporate, and
leave the same amount of real whiting.—But
now I will pour some vinegar on the whiting in
the cup, and you will see a difference."

Johnny poured some vinegar from the vial
into the cup, and stirred the mixture with the
spoon.

"You see all those bubbles?  Those are
bubbles of a kind of gas; as fast as they break,
the gas that has been formed by the chemical
union of the vinegar and whiting will pass into
the air, and what is left in the cup will not be
vinegar and whiting; there will be no real
vinegar and no real whiting left; parts of each
have united to make the gas; so each has lost
something peculiar to itself, and cannot be the
very same article that it was before."

"Some of the bubbles are real big, and you
can't break them easily with the spoon," said
Sue, who was stirring the mixture curiously.
"I wish my soap-bubbles would be as tough."

"Now," continued Johnny, "mixing the whiting
and the vinegar caused a real chemical
union: two substances united to make a third
substance entirely different from the two
original ingredients."

"I think I understand what a chemical union
is now," said Alec.

"And so do I," said Belle.

"This would be a beautiful experiment to
illustrate a chemical union, if it were not so
very common," continued Johnny.

As he spoke, he took a match from a match-safe
he had placed on the table, struck it against
the edge of the table, and held it out, smiling
playfully.

"Fire is one of the most beautiful chemical
unions known; and the burning of a match is
an excellent illustration of the different
temperatures which different substances require,
in order that they may unite with the oxygen in
the air, or be on fire as we call it."

As the match was pretty well burned by this
time, Johnny applied the flame to a spirit-lamp
upon the table, which was the principal purpose
for which he had lighted the match.

"A very moderate amount of heat will cause
phosphorus, which is the substance on the end
of the match, to form a chemical union with the
oxygen in the air: brimstone requires a little
higher temperature than phosphorus, but not
so high as wood requires.  The heat produced
by a little friction is enough to light the
phosphorus, the heat produced by the burning
phosphorus is enough to cause the brimstone to
take fire, and that produced by the burning
brimstone is enough to cause the wood to burn;
that is, to form a chemical union with oxygen.
And, although the burning phosphorus or
brimstone would not have produced sufficient heat
for lighting the lamp, the burning wood
furnished the necessary temperature; so that the
alcohol in the wick began the union at once,
when the blaze of the wood came in contact
with it."

"I see now how it is that we kindle a coal-fire,"
replied Alec.  "First we put some paper
in the grate, and then some pine-kindlings, and
then some charcoal, and then the hard coal:
then we set the paper on fire with a match, and
presently the coal is burning."

"And we separate the kindlings so that the
oxygen can get to them more easily," said
Johnny.

"How queer we never understood exactly
why a fire was kindled in that way, until now,"
said Belle.  "And I should never have thought
of fire being a chemical union."

"You can carry on the same principle a good
deal farther," said Johnny.  "From having a fire
of coals, you might have a house on fire, and this
would produce heat sufficient to set the
neighboring houses on fire; and the uniting of such
a quantity of carbon and hydrogen with oxygen,
to make carbonic-acid gas, would create such a
vacuum by the rising of the heated air and gas,
that so much oxygen would rush in about the
fire, in the form of a high wind, as to make
the fire hotter and hotter, until, if it surrounded
an iron building, it would burn it up just as
easily as wood houses are burned in an ordinary
fire; as was the case at the great Chicago fire,
where so many fire-proof blocks were totally
destroyed."

"But the iron buildings did not actually burn:
they only melted down in the great heat," said Alec.

"Oh, no! they burned," said Johnny: "there
is no trouble about burning iron up, if you get
the right degree of heat."

"I should think there was a good deal of
trouble about it, if great buildings they didn't
mean to have burned, if there was a fire, did go
and burn up right before their eyes," said Sue.

"Do you mean that the iron really burned as
wood does?" said Belle.

"Why, certainly," replied Johnny: "iron will
burn up more completely than wood; for when
wood is burned, the earthy part remains in the
form of ashes: but pure iron, which has no
earthy matter in it, will burn up completely; it
will all combine with the oxygen in the air to
form gas.  When iron is in a mass, it takes a
very intense heat to produce this chemical
union with oxygen; but when it is separated
into very small particles, it will burn in an
ordinary fire."

"If iron will burn up, I wonder we never see
it burning so," said Alec.  "I've been in
blacksmiths' shops and foundries, and I never saw
any iron burning up, although I've seen it at a
white-heat."

"The fires in blacksmiths' shops and foundries
are not hot enough to burn iron in the
mass," replied Johnny; "or, if they are, they
can't get enough oxygen near enough to combine
with it.  At the great Chicago fire, the intense
heat caused such a high wind,—that is, such a
flow of oxygen toward the fire,—that the fire
became so intensely hot there was no difficulty
in the iron blazing and burning more completely
than the wood."

Here Johnny looked rather disconcerted at
Alec's apparent incredulity.

"But, Alec," said he, "if little particles of
iron, such as you would file off of a bar of iron,
will burn up, of course the whole bar could be
burned if it was all filed up; and if the filings
could be burned in an ordinary lamp like this,
why couldn't the whole bar be burned in a fire
that was hot enough?"

"Yes," said Belle, who was troubled at Alec's
being so impolite as to seem to doubt Johnny's
word: "it's just like the difference between a
log of wood and the sawdust produced by
sawing the log in two; you couldn't burn the log
without building a hot fire under it, while you
could set the sawdust on fire with a match."

"That is a very good illustration," said
Johnny.  "Now, I lit this lamp to show you
how nicely iron will burn."

Johnny took a large-mouthed bottle from the
shelf, which was about half full of rather bright
particles.

"These are steel-filings I got at a machine-shop;
but, if you prefer, I will get a nail and
file, and let you make some iron-filings yourself,
which will answer just as well.  I keep the
steel-filings because they are so handy.  I just
ask the men for them, and they give me a
whole lot that last ever so long."

Johnny then opened his knife, and, taking
out some of the filings on the end of the blade,
dropped them, or rather shook them, slowly
into the flame.

"Oh, how pretty!" exclaimed Belle: "they
burn something like gunpowder."

"So they actually burn up, and don't just
get red-hot and fall down and cool?" said Alec.

"Oh, yes!" replied Johnny: "they burn up
just like so much sawdust, only more so; for
there would be some ashes left of sawdust, even
though they might be invisible."

"So the filings have combined with the oxygen
in the air, and gone off in gas?" said Belle.

"Yes," replied Johnny.

"I wish you would file some iron," said Sue,
"because that experiment makes such pretty
fireworks."

"Very well, I will, if you will go down and
bring me a piece of iron from papa's tool-box."

Sue ran off, and Johnny continued,—

"I think I'll show you now how I make gas
on a small scale."

"What kind of gas?" inquired Alec.

"Oh! such gas as we burn in stores and
houses.  I've got my pipe already prepared: if
I hadn't, I couldn't show you that experiment
very well to-day.  I got the pipe ready to show
to a boy who was coming to see me last week;
but he was sick and didn't come, so I didn't use
the pipe."

Johnny took a common clay pipe from his
closet, and showed Alec and Belle that the top
of the ball of the pipe was closed with plaster
of Paris.

"I pounded a little piece of bituminous coal,
such as they use at the gas-works," said Johnny,
"and nearly filled the bowl of the pipe with it;
then I wet a little plaster of Paris, and closed
the end of the bowl to make it air-tight,—that
is, to keep out the oxygen.  There are carbon
and hydrogen in the coal, and they will both
combine with oxygen very quickly at the right
degree of heat: the hydrogen will form a flame,
and the carbon will look bright as you see it in
a piece of burning wood or coal.  But you see
the pipe is fixed so that the oxygen can't get
at the coal at that end."

"Is the flame of a fire or a lamp caused by
the burning of hydrogen?" inquired Belle.

"Yes: the flame is the hydrogen combining
with oxygen, and the glowing coal or wick is
the carbon uniting with oxygen.  The gas from
the gas-works is the hydrogen of the coal
separated from the carbon.  When we heat it with
a match to set it to uniting with oxygen, we
have nothing but a flame.  You know the coal
is heated in air-tight retorts; it is heated hot
enough to burn, but it can't burn because there
is no oxygen for it to unite with; but the heat
causes the hydrogen to separate from the
carbon, and then it finds its way out through the
opening in the retort into the pipes, and when
it reaches the air at the end of a pipe, you can
heat it a little with a match, and it will begin to
unite with the oxygen."

"And the coal that is left in the retort is
called coke.  I have seen it very often," said
Alec: "the reason it looks different from coal,
and burns differently, then, is because it has lost
its hydrogen?"

"Yes," replied Johnny: "almost all ordinary
combustibles are composed of carbon and
hydrogen,—wood, coal, oil, etc.; and there are
a great many other things that oxygen has a
great affinity for, and will combine with at the
right temperature: the things that it won't
combine with are such as have all the oxygen
in them that they will contain, like dirt and
stones and ashes."

"And how about the pipe?" asked Alec.

"Why, after Sue gets back with the piece of
iron, we will go down and set the ball of the
pipe in Katie's fire.  When it gets hot, we shall
see a smoke coming out of the pipe, which will
be composed chiefly of hydrogen gas: we will
touch a match to it, and there will be a flame
at the end of the pipe until all the hydrogen
which was in the coal in the ball of the pipe
has united with oxygen.  That is one way to
make gas on a very small scale."

"And then, if we break the plaster of Paris,
and take out what is left of the coal, we shall
have some coke," said Alec.

"Yes," replied Johnny.

Sue now appeared, bringing a small cold
chisel.  Johnny took a file from the closet, and,
placing the chisel over the flame of the lamp,
began to file it briskly: beautiful little points of
light at once commenced to play about the file
and chisel at the point of contact.

"Why don't the filings fall down into the
flame?" inquired Alec.

"I suppose the current in the flame blows
them up, they are so small," replied Johnny,
"or perhaps the motion of the file does."

Alec, Belle, and Sue then took turns at
making the "fireworks," as Sue called them.

"I think I understand now about fire being a
chemical union between oxygen and other
substances," said Alec; "but I don't understand
about the heat.  What makes heat? or why does
a chemical union of that kind produce heat?"

"Why, friction makes heat," replied Johnny;
"particles of matter coming against each other
violently.  You know the Indians used to get
the oxygen to combining with the carbon and
hydrogen in two pieces of dry wood, by rubbing
them together briskly; and before matches
were invented, they kindled a fire by striking
flint and steel over tinder; and a steel peg in
your shoe-heel sometimes strikes fire on the
pavement by the heat produced by friction;
and I think I have seen it stated, that, when
oxygen is uniting with other substances, it is
the very quick motion of the little particles of
matter among themselves that produces the heat."

"I shouldn't think such little invisible
particles as those of oxygen and hydrogen could
make friction enough by their motion as to
produce heat," said Alec.

"Why, Alec," replied Belle, "don't you
remember what terrible force the air has in
hurricanes, and even in a common gale?"

"But that is in an immense volume," replied Alec.

"Oxygen is in a comparatively mild and
harmless state when it is by itself," said
Johnny; "but when it gets to combining with
any thing it has a great affinity for, it is in a
sort of rage.  I think myself that there must
be some pretty rapid motion going on in a fire,
even if we can't see it."

Johnny had handed the chisel to Sue, telling
her to put it right back where she found it.

"Well, I will," replied Sue; "but I guess
things won't be put back in their right places
much after Felix gets here."

Sue had no sooner said this, than she clapped
her hand over her mouth.  "Oh!" she
exclaimed, "if I haven't gone and told!"

Johnny's face had grown very long in an instant.

"Is that your bad news?" he said.  "When
is Felix coming?"

"I don't know," replied Sue: "you'll have to
ask mamma, for she was to decide."

Sue then went back with the chisel, and Alec
said,—

"So your cousin Felix is coming again, is he?"

"I suppose so," replied Johnny briefly, as if
it was not a very pleasant topic.

"What a funny boy he is!" said Belle.  "I
never saw him but once, and only for a few
minutes; but he seemed to be ready for any
kind of mischief."

"Yes," replied Johnny: "he's as fond of
noise and mischief as oxygen is of carbon and
hydrogen; but I guess he won't stay very long."

This latter reflection seemed to console
Johnny, for he began to look tolerably
cheerful again.

"Shall we go and make hydrogen gas now?"
said he.

But at that moment, Sue came running back,
exclaiming,—

"Some folks in a carriage are having an
accident right out by our front-door!"

"What kind of an accident?" inquired Johnny.

"Is it a runaway?" inquired Belle.

"No, it isn't a runaway, for they can't get
the wagon to move: at any rate, I heard a man
say the wheel wouldn't turn around."

"Let's go and see," said Alec.

So they all went out at the front-door to see
what was the matter.

They found a carryall and a span of horses
standing near the sidewalk.  A lady and a little
girl were in the carryall.  Two gentlemen were
examining one of the wheels, and several boys
stood near looking on.

"I don't know what ails it," said one of the
men; "but the wheel won't turn around, that's
sure.  I think we'll have to go and ask a
blacksmith to come and see to it."

Johnny and Alec went out on the sidewalk,
while Belle and Sue stood on the doorstep.

"I guess it's a hot wheel," said Johnny to Alec.

"What did you say?" asked one of the gentlemen,
turning around quickly.

"I said perhaps it is a hot wheel," replied
Johnny.

"Oh, no!" said the gentleman, looking rather
perplexed: "the wheel is not hot at all."

"No," said Johnny, "it isn't hot now; but
perhaps it has been hot, and that caused the
wheel to get welded to the axle so that it
wouldn't turn; and after it wouldn't turn, there
was no friction, and so the wheel cooled."

"I shouldn't wonder if he is right," said the
other gentleman: "that often happens to
car-wheels on a fast train, and we have been
driving pretty fast, you know."

"Well, young man," said the other gentleman,
"since you know so much about wheels,
can you tell me why this wheel should act so,
while the others are all right?"

"I presume it wasn't greased so well as the
others," replied Johnny.

Just then a man who was passing by stopped
to see what was the matter: he was a mechanic
coming home from the rifle-factory, which
closed at five o'clock.  He asked a few questions,
looked at the wheel, and said, "Oh! that's
a hot wheel: you'll have to prop the carriage
up, and pound it off from the axle.  You've
been doing a little blacksmithing as you came
along.  I presume the wheel and the axle are
pretty neatly welded together, but yet not so
much so but that a little artificial blacksmithing
will set it all right again."

Then there was considerable stirring about:
the carriage was propped up under the directions
of the mechanic, and, after a good deal of
hammering, the wheel was pronounced all right.
Johnny brought out an oil-can; and, after the
wheel was well oiled, the gentleman thanked
everybody around, and offered to pay all who
had helped, including Johnny.  But every one
refused to take any pay, except two or three
boys who had hindered more than they had helped.

"That was a pretty good illustration of the
effect of friction," said Alec.

"Yes," replied Johnny.  "Now let us go in
and make the gas."

"I sha'n't be able to stop any longer now,
thank you," said Alec, "as my father told me
to be home by half-past five.  But I'll get a pipe
and fix it myself, if I can find a piece of the
right kind of coal, and that will save your pipe
until another time."

"Sawdust, or almost any thing that will burn
well, will answer to fill it with," said Johnny.

"I am ever so much obliged for your illustrated
lecture," said Alec.  "I've learned a
good deal, and I wish you would come over to
our house some day before long.  I can't
perform many experiments yet, but we'll have a
good time somehow.  I mean to begin to
perform experiments, and study up about these
things.  I am two years older than you are, but
I don't know half as much as you do."

"You know ever so much more than I do
about history," said Johnny, "and Dick knows
more about carpentry, and Fred about printing."

"And that's the way it is with grown-up folks,"
said Belle: "one takes to one thing, and
another to another; and so, between them all, the
different kinds of work in the world get done."

"As for me," said Sue, "I like to have a good
time most any way."

After their visitors were gone, Johnny went
in to ask his mother about Felix.

"Why, my dear," replied Mrs. Le Bras, "your
aunt Mary is in very poor health, and is going
to Europe on a three months' trip with your
uncle Louis.  Your uncle thinks she will be much
better if she does not have the care of Felix;
and yet she is unwilling to leave him behind,
unless we will let him come here.  Of course,
we could not refuse; although it will be a great
care for me, and a worry to you; but we are
well, and aunt Mary is ill."

Johnny tried not to cry, but the tears rolled
down his cheeks in spite of all his efforts to
restrain them.

"There won't be any peace and quiet and
comfort in the house after Felix comes," he said;
"and to stay a whole three months'—But then,
if aunt Mary is sick"—

"Perhaps he has improved since we saw him,"
replied Mrs. Le Bras: "if not, your father says
he shall be made to mind and behave himself.
Since his father and mother will not be here,
he will be obliged to obey your father and me,
and we shall be decided with him."

"When will he come?"

"In about two weeks."

"I shall try to enjoy myself as well as I can
before he comes, because I know it won't be
very pleasant after he gets here."

Mrs. Le Bras said nothing, because she was
afraid Johnny was about right.  As Johnny
went up to the laboratory to put up his pipe
and the other articles, he looked very sober and
thoughtful: he was already planning how he
could escape from Felix's racket and nonsense.

When Johnny came down again, Sue said,—

"You didn't explain, after all, how the rug
put out the lamp last night."

"Put out the light, you mean.  Why, don't
you see?  The rug prevented the air from
reaching the fire, and, as there was no more
oxygen to combine with the hydrogen and
carbon, there could be no fire."





.. vspace:: 4

.. _`THE SKY-ROOM`:

.. class:: center large bold

   CHAPTER III.


.. class:: center medium bold

   THE SKY-ROOM.

.. vspace:: 2

Johnny felt so badly about the coming of
Felix, and begged so hard to be allowed
some place of refuge during the stay of this
wild guest, that his father said he might have
the large back-room in the French roof, if his
mother was willing.  Mrs. Le Bras said she
had no objection, if Johnny did not mind
having all the things about that were stored in that
room, since there was no other place to put
them in.  Johnny said all he wanted was
somewhere to go when Felix got too rude, where he
could be sure Felix would not follow him: he
said, too, that he should like to keep the
chemicals be was using in the same place; because,
if they were not out of the way, Felix would be
meddling with them.

"I will have a lock put on the door of the
room, and give you the key," said his father;
"and then if you let in any one you don't want,
it will be your own fault.  You can carry the
things from your laboratory into this private
domicile, and whatever else you wish."

"I will carry most of my books, then," said
Johnny; "for I haven't a single book that Felix
will want to read."

"But you must not put your mother or me to
any trouble about fixing up the room," added
his father; "you must be contented with the
bare floor; and if you want the things which
are stored there put up out of the way, you
must re-arrange them yourself, and be sure they
are as neatly and safely placed as they were
before."

"I am perfectly willing to agree to that,"
returned Johnny, looking brighter than he had
before since the announcement that Felix was
to spend the summer with them.  "Can I begin
to get the room ready to-day?"

"Yes," replied his mother.  "I have no
objection, since I am not to do any thing about
it, and can trust you not to put any thing out
of order in moving the articles about."

Johnny went up into "the attic," as it was
called, immediately, followed by Sue.  There
was only one finished room in the French roof:
this was in front, and was occupied by Kate.
The remaining space was not plastered, and
had great beams overhead: it was called "the
storeroom," and was separated from Kate's
room by a narrow hall formed by the placing of
a light board partition about four feet distant
from the finished room in front.  A thin plank
door, without lock and key, was in the end of
the partition, near the head of the stairs.
There were four large windows in the room,—one
at each side, and two in front.

"It's a real pleasant room, isn't it?" said
Johnny, looking about with interest for the first
time; for he had never entered the room before
except for the purpose of storing something
there, or getting something which had been put
away in some of the trunks or boxes.  These
trunks and boxes, some old furniture, and a large
cedar chest in which his mother kept furs and
other expensive articles liable to be disturbed
by moths, were scattered about rather promiscuously,
without regard to any particular order.

"I'll tell you what I've a mind to do," said
Johnny.  "I think I will put all the things that
are stored here at the back part of the room,
and then I'll take the old clothes-line, and draw
it across in front of them, and hang some of
mother's old drapery curtains on it: I don't
believe but that she has enough to go clear across
the room; only I shall leave an opening in front
of the door to get through."

"Mamma's got a set of old cretonne, real
pretty, too, with bright red flowers on them;
and I know she'll let you have them," said Sue.

"And she's got another set, of cheese-cloth,
that she won't use again," said Johnny.
"There's four more: I'll alternate them,—that
will be prettiest.  I guess they'll go clear across,
and be a little full too.  And then see what a
monstrous room we shall have left all to ourselves!"

"But you won't let me come in, will you?  I
thought you wanted it all to yourself."

"Oh!  I shall let you come in sometimes, when
you don't want to romp; and perhaps I will let
Felix in once in a great while, when I am sure
he won't stay long: but, as I shall have a lock
and key, I can keep folks out when I am reading
or busy.

.. _`44`:

"How far off you can see at these front
windows!" said Sue.  "I can see way up the river,
and all those blue hills, and over hundreds and
hundreds of houses, and lots of sky!"

Johnny came and stood by her side, and
looked out at the landscape.

"It is beautiful, isn't it?" said he.  "Why,
I do believe it's the very handsomest view I
ever saw!  It is queer I never noticed before
how fine it was.  I wonder if father and mother
know we've got such an observatory!"

"Wouldn't it be a pretty picture?" said Sue.
"I wish it was a picture instead of real; for
then I could carry it down in my room, and
hang it up."

"Oh, no! it wouldn't be half as nice as it is
now it is real.  Just think how many changes
we can see on all that great sweep of sky, how
many clouds altering their shapes and colors
every minute, and what glorious sunsets!  We
must come up here after supper to-night, and
see the sunset.  Let's surprise father and
mother, Sue.  If we can get the curtains, I'll
have them up by that time, if you'll help me."

"Won't that be nice!" exclaimed Sue, dancing
about.  "And just see, Johnny! here's
furniture enough to furnish your room right off:
there's that red plush chair that isn't faded very
badly; and that great, comfortable old wicker
rocker that we used to like so much, because it
would hold both of us easy,—and all that ails
it is that it looks kind of old; and there's
mamma's old toilet-table and a big ottoman;—and,
O Johnny! there's our lounge in the corner that
I've missed so much, because the new sofa isn't
half so big."

"Yes, that's an idea!" replied Johnny.
"There is quite a lot of furniture here; and
that sofa looks like an old friend, if there is a
hole in the cover that you kicked through.  I
guess mamma can find me a piece of cretonne
that I can spread all over the bottom to hide
the holes.  And then, don't you remember, Sue,
what a lot of old pictures there are in that big
trunk, which were put up here when father
bought so many new pictures at that sale? and
some of those old ones are real pretty too,
especially the engravings."

"And don't you remember the chromo with
the winter in it, Johnny?"

"Oh, yes! that winter scene was pretty good:
it represented the poet Whittier when he was a
little boy, going to a country school."

"Oh, yes!  I remember now," replied Sue;
"and Mr. Whittier was in the picture, when he
was a little boy, and his little girl that loved
him was there with a blue apron on.  Let's get
'em right out, and look 'em over, and see which
you will hang up."

"No," replied Johnny: "we'll go down and
tell mamma our plans first, and ask her if we
may have the curtains, and hang up the pictures."

Mrs. Le Bras was very much pleased when
Johnny came down looking so animated and
happy: she had begun to feel as if his
pleasure was to be spoiled for the summer by the
advent upon the scene of such a thoughtless
and rude boy as Felix.  She assented very
willingly to all his plans, and said he could take
any of the discarded things in the attic to
furnish his room, and might select and arrange
them without her superintendence; only stipulating
that Sue was not to be allowed to touch
any thing without his orders or permission.
She said all the old curtains were in the lower
drawer of the bureau in the attic, and Johnny
could select which he pleased.  As for a covering
for the lounge, she would give him a piece
of very pretty new cretonne which had been
left over of some she got for curtains to Kate's
room.

As it was Saturday morning, there was plenty
of time for Johnny to get his room in order
before the time for the sunset exhibition.
Having charged Sue, again and again, not to
ask his mother to come up until all was in
readiness, and to give him warning if there was
any danger of her making her appearance, he
went to work with a will, allowing Sue to help
him all she could, for the sake of her company,
and because he saw that this kind of business
pleased her greatly.  By four in the afternoon,
the room was finished; and a very attractive
place it was.  Johnny had opened all the
windows, and thrown back the blinds, so that the
great space was flooded with light, and as
pleasant as out of doors.  The breeze was so strong,
however, since there was nothing to intercept
it at that height, that Johnny was obliged to
close all but the front windows.

"I know it will be cool here on the warmest
day in summer," said Johnny, "because it is
ever so much cooler here to-day than it is in
any other part of the house.  That isn't generally
the way with attics: but then, this is different
from an attic; it is larger, and has more
windows, and the roof is different."

"If there is a very, very warm day, you can
go out at the scuttle," remarked Sue.

"Oh!  I'll tell you what the scuttle will be
good for," replied Johnny: "we can go up
there evenings, and see the stars splendidly.
I shall call that my observatory.  We will try
it this evening."

The scuttle was in the little hall between the
storeroom and Kate's room, and was reached
by a kind of stair-ladder: there were several
large panes of glass in it, which afforded
sufficient light for the little hall-way.

"Now we will go down and get all the books
I shall need," said Johnny.

Johnny's books were in one corner of Mr. Le
Bras' large bookcase, which nearly filled one
side of the sitting-room.  When they reached
the sitting-room, they found their father had
returned from his office.

"I'm going to carry some of my books into
my sky-room," said Johnny, "but I don't know
what to keep them in: my table isn't large
enough to hold any thing but my inkstand, pens,
and pencils, and some paper for writing and
drawing."

"Are there not some empty packing-boxes in
the storeroom which we used when we moved
here?" remarked his father.

"Yes."

"Take several of those which are of about
the same size, and place them one above the
other.  If they are not quite firm enough, drive
in a few nails.  That will give you shelves for
books and other things.  Put some white paper
on the bottom of the shelves, and a little light
fancy paint in front, and on the top and sides,
if you like."

"I wonder I did not think of that," replied
Johnny; "for I have seen a very pretty
bookcase which Dick Scott made out of boxes."

Johnny then began to take down some books
from the shelves.  First he took down four
volumes of Jacob Abbott's "Science for the Young."

"I thought you had got through with those
books long ago," remarked his father.

"No.  I forget something in them sometimes,
and then I want to look it up again;
besides, I like to read parts of them over once
in a while; and when I don't want to study,
they are more interesting than my chemistries
and philosophies, because there is a little story
mixed in.  I wish I could get some more just
such books telling of things I haven't learned
about."

"It is a pity there is no Mr. Abbott here
now to write more books," said his father.
"I'll tell you what you must do, Johnny: when
you get old enough, you must write some similar
books for young folks yourself, to cover the
subjects Mr. Abbott left."

"But I sha'n't be a boy to be interested in
such books then."

"Never mind," said his mother: "there will
be ever so many more Johnnys to be interested,
and it is pleasanter to give than to receive, you
remember."

Johnny looked rather doubtful about that, but
he said nothing.  He took down his books upon
chemistry, and philosophy, which were such as
are used in high schools and academies, and a
number of books upon other solid subjects, also
a few story-books and a dictionary.

"What do you want of a dictionary in vacation?"
asked his mother.

"When I am reading, I often come across a
word which I do not understand: and then, I
shall write considerably this vacation, and the
dictionary will help my spelling; I intend to
write a good many compositions, some of which
I shall use in school next year, which will save
my time."

"But I don't think you ought to do schoolwork
in vacation: you ought simply to enjoy
yourself, or do manual labor, which will not tax
your mind," said Mrs. Le Bras.

"But writing compositions don't tax my mind,
unless I am in a hurry about something else: I
shall just write the compositions in vacation for
the fun of it, and then, in school-time, I can let
them take the place of real work."

"That is a good idea," said Mr. Le Bras.  "A
little providence like that saves a good deal of
the friction of working-time."

"Yes," said Johnny, "and friction is apt to
produce fire."

His mother laughed.

"You mean by that," she said, "it is likely
to make folks lose their patience and temper."

"Come, Sue, I guess I've got enough now,"
said Johnny: "if I haven't, I shall think of the
others by degrees."

Sue held out her apron: Johnny put as many
books in it as he thought she could carry easily,
and piled up the remainder, and took them in
his arms, with some assistance from his father
in getting them well balanced.

"I think I will go up with you to see how
your 'sky-room' looks," remarked Mr. Le Bras.

"Oh, no! don't!" said Johnny.  "We're not
ready to have you and mother come up yet.
I'll tell you when we are ready."

"You mustn't come up till after supper,"
added Sue,—"not till sundown."

"You look out, Sue," said Johnny warningly,
"or you'll let it all out before you know it!"

Sue looked back and laughed, as she walked
off with her bulged-out apron.

The boxes were speedily arranged, the bottom
of the shelves covered with white paper, and
the books deposited upon them.

"When I get time, I will fasten and stain the
boxes; but this will do at present," said Johnny,
standing back to observe the effect.—"That
looks quite like a bookcase, don't it?"

"It's just splendid," replied Sue.  "And what
shall we do now?"

"We will arrange the lounge and table and
chairs, here near the front windows, in a space
about as large as our sitting-room: we can have
that for the in-doors, and then we can make
believe that all outside of that square is out of
doors, and have it to exercise in.  I think I will
call that the promenade."

"Then, let's get some chalk, and mark off
the room, so that we can tell exactly where the
room ends, and the promenade begins."

"Very well," replied Johnny, laughing: "that
wouldn't be a bad plan.  If you will run down
and get one of my crayons, I will mark it off
now.  You can get the yardstick too.  While
you are gone, I will be moving the furniture
into the front part of the room."

The bookcase stood between the two front
windows.  Johnny moved the table up near the
bookcase, and placed the sofa a little to the left
of the left-hand window, with one end toward
the front wall of the room.  He then arranged
the chairs and ottoman.

When Sue came back, she said a lounge
ought to be against the wall, instead of
extending out into the room.

"It is against the wall," replied Johnny: "it
is against the crayon-wall we are to make for
this side of our room."

"Why, that's so!" replied Sue, half laughingly
and half wonderingly.  "I forgot that
three of the walls of the room were to be
crayon-marks."

The room was soon chalked off very distinctly.

"That seems a good deal more like a room
and a promenade than it did, don't it?" said
Johnny.

"Yes," replied Sue: "I think I like walls
that you can see right through, very well.  I
wish some of the walls down-stairs were like
that, so we could see out into the back-yard."

"Let us go down in the yard now, and stay
till supper-time," said Johnny: "we have been
working hard all the afternoon, and I think I
will romp with you now a while, if you want to;
since you have been so good-natured about
helping me, and keeping me company, in getting
the room ready."

"Come, then! let's go right off!" exclaimed
Sue, with delight.—"I'll be down in the yard
before you!" and she ran off as fast as she could
go, while Johnny followed more leisurely,
meditating upon the pleasant respites he could take
from Felix's society in his beautiful and
commodious sky-room.

There chanced to be an unusually beautiful
sunset that evening; and, when it was in its
glory, Johnny invited his father and mother to
come up and see the new apartment.

"There's going to be a free show for you,"
said Sue.

"Yes," said Johnny; "and it didn't cost any
thing to get it up, either."

"No," added Sue: "it got itself up, and it'll
do it almost every day this summer, without
even being asked."

"O Sue!" whispered Johnny in her ear,
"you'll let it out before we get up there, if
you're not more careful."

When they entered the transformed attic, a
beautiful scene was presented.  The four large
dormer windows were all open, and a flood of
soft sunset-light filled the apartment.  But best
of all was the beautiful sky on all sides; for the
room faced the west, and the sky all around
was full of variously colored clouds, of various
shades and degrees of brightness, from brilliant
red and gold to delicate shades of pearl, yellow,
and violet, with the blue sky for a background.

"Well! this is glorious!" exclaimed Mr. Le
Bras.  "I did not know we had such a room in
the house!  Why! it is like discovering a gold-mine!"

"Don't you remember," replied Mrs. Le Bras,
"that I said, when we first came here, and were
putting away some things in the attic, that
there was a beautiful view up here, and it was
a great pity it could not be down-stairs?"

"I don't remember it," replied Mr. Le Bras.
"I think, whenever I have been here, the blinds
have been closed; and as I have always been to
get something, or put something away, I never
have thought of looking out of the windows."

"I have opened one of the blinds sometimes,"
replied Mrs. Le Bras, sitting down in the
rocking-chair by one of the front windows, "and
noticed how far the prospect extended; but I
have never been here before at sunset-time.
How very, very beautiful!"

"Why, yes! this is perfect fairyland!" said
Mr. Le Bras, sitting down by the other front
window, in the arm-chair, and looking out at
the brilliant scene produced by the green
landscape, with its blue river and purple hills and
flaming sky.

Mr. and Mrs. Le Bras, upon looking around
the interior, praised Johnny and his assistant
very much for the neat and tasteful arrangement
of the curtains, furniture, etc., and were
greatly amused at the chalk-line dividing the
room from the promenade.  They remained
until the stars began to come out, declaring it
was too pleasant a place to leave, as long as any
of the scenery was visible.

"You see, this house is on a hill, and above
the houses about here, which are only two
stories," said Mr. Le Bras, "and also above
the trees in the park.  You are a lucky boy,
Johnny, to own a room like this for the
summer, which you can have all to yourself: so
I think we will say it is a pretty good offset for
all the annoyance you are likely to experience
from Felix."

"And I suppose you will let me in here once
in a while, if I get too tired of Felix's
nonsense?" remarked Mrs. Le Bras.

"Oh, yes!  I will let any one in except Felix
himself; and I will let him in for a little while,
sometimes, if he will promise not to touch any
of my things, or race about."

"You had better not give him much encouragement
to come here," said Mr. Le Bras, "or
he may tease you too often to let him in.  I
would not have him know any thing about the
room, until he finds it out in some way himself."

"Yes, that will be the best plan," added Mrs. Le
Bras: "it will save considerable questioning
and wonderment, to say the least."





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.. _`THE UNWELCOME GUEST`:

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   CHAPTER IV.


.. class:: center medium bold

   THE UNWELCOME GUEST.

.. vspace:: 2

Felix was the son of Mr. Le Bras' brother,
who was a wholesale merchant in New
York, and very rich.  It was doubtful if Felix
had ever been denied any thing which he
wished; that is, if it could be bought.  Among
the rest of his possessions were a pony, a
bicycle, and a boat; for Mr. Louis Le Bras had
a summer residence on the shore.

Felix arrived with his father Wednesday
afternoon.  They drove up in a carriage, with
quite a large trunk behind, which contained
Felix's summer outfit.  A bicycle also was
strapped on over the trunk; and, when the
visitors alighted, a large Newfoundland dog
bounded out of the carriage.  Felix was a
handsome boy, with large brown eyes, and
dark, curling hair.  The dog was very black
and glossy.

"So we have a third visitor?" said Mr. Frank
Le Bras, after he and Mrs. Le Bras and the
children had shaken hands with his brother
and Felix.

"Oh, yes!" replied Mr. Louis Le Bras: "Felix
will not go anywhere without Clyde."

"How long have you had Clyde?" inquired
Johnny of Felix.

"About two weeks.  Isn't he a fine old fellow?
He cost thirty dollars."

"Do you like riding a bicycle pretty well?"
asked Johnny, as the hackman took that article
down.

"Well, I guess so!  I don't walk hardly at all
now, when I get where there are dirt-roads.
You won't see much of me till I've explored
all the country round here."

"Didn't you want to go to Europe?" inquired Sue.

"No, not with mother, 'cause she's so awful
nervous, and scares at every thing; and then,
father gave me a new gold watch for staying at
home,—though I don't care much about it,
now I've got it."

Felix took out the watch carelessly, and
showed it to Johnny and Sue.

"That's ever so nice," said Sue.  "Aren't
you a lucky boy, Felix?"

"I don't know," replied Felix: "all I know
is, I mean to have a good time wherever I am.
Father, I guess I'll try this road on my bicycle
before I go in."

"No," replied his father: "come in and visit
a while first."

"No," returned Felix, vaulting upon the bicycle:
"I'm just going round the park square.
That's just a mile, isn't it, Johnny?"

"Yes," replied Johnny: "it's a quarter of a
mile on each side."

"But supper is nearly ready," objected Mrs. Le
Bras.

"Never mind: you needn't wait for me; I'll
have my supper when I come back," returned
Felix, shooting off up the road, followed by
Clyde.

Felix's father was talking quite busily with
his brother, without paying any further
attention to Felix.  But just as the young man was
vanishing around the corner, he turned, and
observed him.

"Why!  I thought I told that boy he couldn't
go," he said.

"Yes, you did," replied Mrs. Le Bras.

"There's no keeping track of him," said his
father, with an air of resignation.  "Well, I
suppose boys must be boys!  I shouldn't wonder
if we used to bother our folks a good deal
when we were boys, Frank."

"If we did, we got bothered in turn by our
father and mother, if I recollect rightly," replied
Mr. Le Bras.  "I did not venture to disobey
my father very often, and I had reason to
remember it when I did.  I had an idea your
experience was about the same."

"Parents were more strict in those days; I
don't know but I think they were too strict;
I am certain I used to think so when I was a boy."

"I doubt if it would have been any better
for us if our parents had been more indulgent,"
returned Mr. Le Bras, "and I am certain that
it would have been very much worse for them.
Having unruly children about is rather a doubtful
blessing.  By the way, Louis, you remember
my stipulation, that, if Felix stays here, I shall
insist upon strict obedience?  I cannot possibly
promise care and safe-keeping without that
proviso.  I suppose you have given him to
understand what I expect?"

"Oh, yes! he understands, and that is all
right.  I hope you can teach him to mind.  It
will be a great favor to us if you will: his
mother is in too poor health, and too fond of
him, to cross him much; and I am not at home
a great deal.  To tell the truth, I would give
any one a thousand dollars to teach that boy to
behave himself: in fact, I would give more."

Mr. Frank Le Bras laughed at this remark,
as if it were a very good joke.  "I don't know
of any way of teaching a boy to do well right
along, Louis, without the proper kind of
government continues right along until the boy is
grown up,—unless, indeed, the boy were so
remarkable that he might be taught to govern
himself by his own reason and conscience; and
such boys are very rare: in fact, I don't know
as I ever saw such a boy.  But I shall do the
best I can by Felix, not only for his sake and
yours, but for my own comfort and that of my
household.  We shall not attempt to govern
him while you are here, however."

"I shall be off on the eight o'clock train; so
your authority will begin very soon.  I can't
tell you all how thankful I am that you have
agreed to take charge of the young rogue.  Of
course we love him dearly, but even his mother
is beginning to see that he is getting to be too
much for us: I fancy her nervous disease is
greatly aggravated by her worry over Felix."

They were sitting in the house by this time,
and now Kate rang the supper-bell.  Felix did
not appear during supper-time, nor until past
seven o'clock: then he came in with a very red
face, accompanied by Clyde, who was panting,
with his tongue out of his mouth.

"Where have you been?" inquired his father.

"Oh!  I met a boy over by the park, and we
went racing.  We went up to the trotting-park,
and tried the course.  I guess I've got up an
appetite for supper."

"You will find something on the table," said
his aunt; "but, of course, you won't expect to
have any thing hot, an hour after supper-time."

"I do at home," replied Felix, looking slightly
disconcerted.

"But you must remember you are not at
home," replied his father: "there is but one
servant here, and you make an extra person in
the family, at the best."

Felix sat down at the table, appearing rather
out of sorts.  Kate did not look very pleasant
either, as she waited upon him: ordinarily, she
would have had the table cleared and all the
dishes washed before that time.

"Are we to have this kind of doings all the
time?" she asked of Mrs. Le Bras, as the latter
came into the kitchen of an errand.

"No, indeed!" replied Mrs. Le Bras: "this
is the very last time, Katie; after this, if Felix
is not here at meal-time, the table will be
cleared, and nothing will be brought out for
him but bread and butter.  We shall give him
to understand how it will be, and then it will
be his own fault if he gets served that way."

When Mr. Louis Le Bras took his leave,
he gave much good advice to Felix, and charged
him to make as little trouble as possible.

"I sha'n't be any trouble," replied Felix: "I
sha'n't be in the house but precious little,
anyway.  Clyde and I won't see much of the inside
of the house till we've scoured all the region
round, to begin with."

"But if you are scouring the country, how
can your aunt and uncle take care of you?"
replied his father.  "You may get into all sorts
of scrapes and dangers."

"I guess I'm old enough to take care of myself!
I ain't a baby," replied Felix indignantly.

As the hack had just driven up to the door,
and there was no time to spare, Mr. Le Bras
shook hands all around, kissed Mrs. Le Bras
and the children, said he wished he was a
German so that he could kiss his brother too, as the
gentlemen kissed each other in Germany, added
at the last, "Now, you make that boy mind, at
all costs," sprang into the carriage, told the
driver to hurry, and rode off, while Felix
shouted after him,—

"Don't you forget, father, that I can take
care of myself!"

Johnny and Sue then took Felix up to see
his room, for he had not visited them since
they had moved into their new house.  It was
a very pretty room, fourteen feet square, in the
L over the kitchen, and had a charming view of
the yard and the park beyond.  It was Sue's
room, but she was to sleep on a cot-bed in her
mother's room while Felix staid; and she rather
liked the change, because her mother's room
looked out on the street, where she could see
the passers-by.

Johnny's room was over the dining-room, and
so next to Felix's, but only opened into the hall.
The spare chamber was over the sitting-room.

"This will pass," said Felix, when Johnny
and Sue called his attention to the various good
points about the room.  "It is about half as
large as my room at home; but I don't care for
that, nor that there isn't any bath-room or
dressing-room out of it, 'cause I sha'n't be in
my room but precious little, and I mean to go
down to the river and bathe every day,—swim,
I mean.  I can swim like a fish,—since we've
had our cottage down by the shore: I learned
last season.  By the way, father says we can
all go down to the cottage if we want to: it's
furnished, you know, and empty."

"Oh, I wish we could!" said Sue.  "I'll go
and ask mamma if we are going."

Sue ran off, while Felix opened his trunk and
showed Johnny his new summer clothes, which
were very fine; also his jointed fishing-rod and
various other boyish possessions, which were
recent acquisitions of which he had not yet
tired, since they were all fresh from the stores,
most of them being presents his mother had
given him to reconcile him for being deprived
of a voyage to Europe.

Presently Sue came back, saying it was not
decided about the offer of the cottage being
accepted: it depended upon whether her father
could get away for a long vacation, for her
mother said she should not go unless he was
able to go too.

"But I shouldn't wonder if we did go," added
Sue hopefully; "for mamma looked as though
she rather thought father would be able to get
away, and she said he could tell better in a few
weeks."

"Now, what am I to do all this evening?"
said Felix.  "What's going on in this place,
Johnny?"

"Not very much, that I know of," replied
Johnny; "and as I make up all my amusements,
or almost all of them, I shouldn't know as well
what is going on as Harrison Brown would."

"Who is Harrison Brown?" inquired Felix
with interest.

"He's a boy who lives on State Street, opposite
the north side of the park," replied Johnny.

"Has he got a bicycle? and does he wear a
blue suit with a little plaid in it?" inquired
Felix.

"Yes," said Sue: "that's his new suit, and I
think it's real pretty."

"Why, he's the boy that I raced with,"
continued Felix: "I guess I'll go right over and
see him, and ask him what is going on.  Can't
you come along, Johnny?"

"I'll ask mother," replied Johnny doubtfully.

"Can't I go too?" asked Sue.

"You?" replied Felix.  "What does a girl
want to go round with boys for? and what do
boys want girls going around with them for?"

"But I go 'most everywhere with Johnny,"
replied Sue, looking rather hurt.

"But Johnny is different from other boys,"
said Felix.

As Johnny had gone to ask his mother about
going with Felix, he did not hear this remark.
"But Belle Miner goes with her brother
Alec, and Terry Scott goes with her brother
Dick, and we all go together; and ever so many
boys and girls I know of, that are not brothers
and sisters, play together, and have real good
times.  I like to play with boys very much,
when they are not too rough and hateful; and
I can run as fast, and play as well, as any of
them, at most things."

Felix laughed loud and long.

"But you can't go fishing," said he, "nor
ride a bicycle."

"I could ride a tricycle," said Sue, "if I had
one; and if I had one to ride, I could go fishing."

Johnny came back, saying his mother would
like to see Felix in the sitting-room.  So they
all went down to hear what she had to say.

"We are not in the habit of allowing our
children to go out in the evening, unless by
especial invitation, or with us, or by our advice
or consent: and of course, Felix, since we are
to do by you just as we do by our own children,
we cannot allow you any more liberty than they
have; it would not be right."

"But I don't see what harm there could be
in my just going a little way, to ask a boy a
question."

"We shall not expect you to see the reasons
for all our rules, any more than we expect
Johnny and Sue to see them, and we cannot
take time and pains to explain them to you; for
very likely you would not understand them any
better then, since many of them can only be
understood by grown persons," replied Mrs. Le
Bras mildly, continuing her sewing, and not
seeming to pay very much attention to Felix,
who was looking decidedly cross.

"I wish I hadn't agreed to come here," he
said: "I don't think much of such strict rules.
My father and mother are not so notional."

Mrs. Le Bras made no reply: she seemed to
be very much absorbed in her sewing.  Felix
got into a rocking-chair on his knees, and began
rocking it violently back and forth.  Johnny
wished he could get up to his sky-room.  Sue
spread a newspaper on the floor, and, sitting
down before it, began to cut a fine lady out of
a colored fashion-plate, for a doll.  Johnny took
one of his books down, and turned over the
pages mechanically; it was not the book he
wanted, as that was in the sky-room; and he
was afraid, too, that it would not be polite to
read while Felix was unoccupied.  But if Felix
had not been there, he would have sat down
with a book, and been happy, or amused
himself in some other way.

"This is awful stupid!" said Felix.

"Here's an interesting story: don't you
want to read it?" suggested Johnny.  "It's
about a family of children who lived up in Iceland."

"No!  I hate books!" replied Felix: "they're
awful stupid things.  I never read if I can help
it.  I have more than all the reading I want at
school; and I don't go to school when I don't
want to, either."

Mrs. Le Bras smiled to herself.

"How often do you go to school, Felix?"
she inquired.

"Two or three times a week.  I go when I
can't think of any thing else to do."

"Then, as you can't think of any thing
else to do this evening, why not read a little
while? that will help to pass away the time."

"No!  I don't want to read! what do I care
about folks in Iceland?  It's summer now, and
I want to know what folks are doing in summer."

"I've got a book that tells how some boys
had a garden in summer, and sold vegetables
enough to buy all the sleds and skates and caps
and mittens they needed for the next winter,"
said Johnny.

"Oh, ho!  I can have all such things without
having a garden."

"But they couldn't, and it's real interesting
to read how they managed their little farm."

"Farm?  I thought you said it was a garden."

"It was such a large garden that they called
it their farm: it was an acre of ground."

"How much is an acre?"

"You know how many acres there are in the park?"

"How should I know?"

"You know it is a quarter of a mile on each
side, don't you?"

"What of that?"

"That makes a quarter of a mile square,
don't it?"

"I don't know."

"And it makes a quarter of a square mile."

"Well, what of that?"

"You know how many acres there are in a
square mile, don't you?"

"Of course I don't!  Why should I?"

"Haven't you learned square measure at
school?"

"Oh!  I went past that long ago.  I'm over in
percentage."

"Then, you know that six hundred and forty
acres make a square mile."

"No, I don't remember any thing about it.
I don't expect to remember a thing after I've
been past it a little while, and I never do: so I
don't see what's the use of learning books at all."

"And if there are six hundred and forty acres
in one square mile," continued Johnny, "in a
quarter of a square mile there would be one-fourth
of that, which is one hundred and sixty acres."

"Why, if there are that many acres in the
park, one acre wouldn't be any thing," replied
Felix.  "It isn't a large park at all."

Johnny laughed as he replied, "Isn't our
yard of pretty good size?"

"Yes."

"Well, our yard hasn't a quarter of an acre
in it, I am sure.  Let's measure it to-morrow,
and see just what part of an acre there is in it."

"How can you tell?" replied Felix.

"Why, don't you know?" replied Johnny.

"No.  How did you learn how?"

"Why, by studying square measure at school."

"I guess your schools are different from ours,
then: I didn't learn any thing but the table,
and how to do a few sums; and just as soon
as I had learned that, I forgot all about it!—I
say, I can't stand this!  I'll go and call Clyde
in, and have a good time with him."

Clyde had been in so many times, putting
his muddy paws upon the furniture and her
delicate dress, that Mrs. Le Bras was dismayed
at this announcement.

"I think you will enjoy yourself better with
Clyde out on the platform," she suggested.

"Come, Johnny, let's go out, then," said Felix.
"I'll show you some of Clyde's tricks.  He's
a trained dog."

"Can't I go?" said Sue.

"Yes, come along if you want to; but I ain't
used to having girls tagging me around."

At first Sue was a little provoked, and
thought she would not go; but she was so fond
of romping, that she soon followed the boys,
saying to her mother,—

"Johnny will have to romp now, whether he
wants to or not."

"Poor Johnny!" sighed Mrs. Le Bras.

Presently Mr. Le Bras came in; and his wife
told him how restless and out of humor Felix
had been, and said she could not imagine what
they were to do with him, especially evenings,
if they tried to be at all particular where he was,
and what company he kept.

"We must manage it somehow," replied Mr. Le
Bras thoughtfully; "and I cannot have you
and Johnny fretted either."

"I don't know but I had better go to the
cottage, whether you can go or not," continued
Mrs. Le Bras; "for then he and Clyde will
wear out and soil Louis' furniture instead of
ours.  Clyde has nearly ruined my dress already,
by jumping up upon me in his good-natured
way; and I have been around trying to get
stains off of the upholstering of the chairs.  As
for Sue, I cannot pretend to dress her up at
all nicely while the dog is around; and I know
it frets Johnny very much to have the
mud-stains on his new drab suit.  If we were at
the seaside, the children could dress in
common clothes, and there would be more
harmless outdoor amusements."

"It will never do for you to take the whole
charge of that boy: it would make you ill.  He
must be under the eye of a man; I will see to
him: and as for Clyde, I will soon settle him.
I hope to be able to leave my business a while
by the first of August, and then we will go to
the cottage: by coming back for a few days at
a time, now and then, I think I can stay some
weeks; and whenever I come back, I shall bring
Felix with me, unless he has greatly improved."

Just then Johnny came in, and asked his
father if he would let him take his large
tape-measure.

"What do you want it for?" replied Mr. Le Bras.

"I want to show Felix how to find out what
part of an acre there is in our yard."

"Hasn't he learned enough arithmetic to do
that himself?"

"No, sir: he's been over as far as I have,
but he says he don't know any thing about
square measure."

"I'll warrant!" replied Mr. Le Bras, taking
the measure from one of the drawers under the
library-shelves, and handing it to Johnny.

When Johnny reached the garden again, he
found Felix on the roof of the shed.

"Come down, and help me measure, Felix,"
he said.

"No," replied Felix: "I'll sit up here, and
see you do it."

"Oh! that's the kind of a surveyor you'll be,"
replied Johnny; "you'll survey from a distance:
but this is ever so much more interesting.
Come, Sue, you hold the measure for me, and
I'll measure the width of the yard first.  Stand
back there, and keep the measure close to the
fence; and when I say 'Come,' bring it to me."

As it was getting pretty dark, Felix could
not see much except Johnny's and Sue's forms
as they moved about.  Having measured the
width of the yard, Johnny measured the length.

"It is three times as long as it is broad," he
announced.

"I could have told that without measuring,"
returned Felix scornfully.  "Arithmetic isn't of
any use at all."

"You had better come down before it gets
any darker," said Johnny, "or you may fall."

"Fall!  Oh, ho!  I guess not!  I ain't a baby."

"I'm going in now, to reckon this out," said
Johnny.  "Seventy-five feet wide, and two
hundred and twenty-five feet long, or twenty-five
yards wide, and seventy-five yards long.  It will
be easiest to find the square yards."

"How do you find the square yards," demanded Felix.

"Oh!  I know that," remarked Sue; "just
multiply the yards long by the yards wide:
don't you, Prof.?"

"Of course," replied Johnny.

"'Of course!'" mimicked Felix.  "Well, I
guess I'll come down now, since the prospect
isn't as good as it might be."

Johnny went in to get a pencil and a piece of
paper: Felix began to come down from the
roof by swinging himself off, and letting his
feet rest upon the slender railing that passed
along the outer edge of the platform.  Just as
he was putting his feet down, Clyde jumped
upon him; and in trying to extricate himself
from the dog, and touch the railing at the same
time, he missed the railing in the darkness,
and fell down, giving an impatient exclamation
of pain as he reached the ground.

Sue was frightened, and ran in with the
announcement that Felix had fallen off of the roof.
Mr. Le Bras went out immediately, followed by
Johnny and Mrs. Le Bras.  Felix had arisen,
but was limping up the steps, and half crying
with pain.  "Oh, dear!" said he, "I've sprained
my ankle awfully; so I'm about sure I can't
ride my bicycle for a week; and then I'd like
to know what I'm going to do, staying around
in the house all the time!"

Johnny's heart sank: he had counted on
Felix's being off on his bicycle a good part of
the next day, and what should he do if he were
to be at home all the time expecting him to
keep him company.  Would he be able to enjoy
his beautiful sky-room after all?

"Perhaps it is not as bad as you imagine,
Felix," said his aunt encouragingly, while his
uncle helped him up the steps and into the
house; but the boy limped badly, and there
was an expression of genuine pain upon his
face.  Mr. Le Bras seated him in an easy-chair,
and placed another chair for him to rest his foot
upon, while Mrs. Le Bras got the arnica to
bathe the ankle.  After the ankle had been
bathed and bandaged, and the slippers which
Sue had found in Felix's trunk substituted in
place of shoes, to accommodate the swollen foot,
Felix began to exclaim desolately at his forlorn
condition.  "I can't even do any thing to
amuse myself this evening," he said; "and it's
no use to go to bed, because my foot pains me
so that I couldn't sleep, even if it were not
early in the evening."

"Sit up here by the table," replied Johnny,
"and let's figure out what part of an acre there
is in the yard.  Here's an extra pencil and
sheet of paper.  It will be real fun: let's see
who gets it right first."

"It won't be any fun at all," replied Felix;
"just as if there is any fun in figuring! you
might as well say there is fun in going to school
and studying old dry books."

Johnny made no reply.  He had begun to cipher.

"What are you going to do first?" asked
Felix languidly.

"Why, multiply the length by the breadth in
yards, to get the square yards in the garden."

"What next?"

"Why, then reduce an acre to square yards,
so as to know how many square yards there are
in an acre."

"I can do that," said Felix, looking slightly
interested; "but I never could see what use
there was in it, and I don't see now."

"Come and do it, then," said Johnny coaxingly.

Felix hopped to the table slowly, on one foot,
and sat down in the chair Sue placed for him;
while Johnny brought the other chair for his foot.

"How many square yards were there?" said
Felix, taking the paper and pencil, and resting
the paper on a book he took from the table.

"You do it all yourself," replied Johnny;
"seventy yards long, you know, and twenty-five
yards wide."

Presently Johnny stopped figuring.

"Have you got through?" asked Felix.

"No: I'm waiting for you to catch up."

"1,875 square yards," said Felix.

"Yes; and now reduce an acre to square
yards."

After figuring a few minutes, Felix announced
4,840 square yards in an acre.  "What do you
do next?" he said.

"One yard, then, would be what part of an
acre?" asked Johnny.

After a moment's hesitation, Felix said, "1/4840
of an acre."

"Then, 1,875 square yards would be how many
4,84Oths of an acre?"

"Why," replied Felix, after a little further
consideration, "1875/4840 of an acre."

"Now let's reduce that fraction as low as we
can, by dividing both terms by five, and what
does it give us?"

"375/968 of an acre."

"Now, is that about a fourth of an acre, or
about a third of an acre?"

Felix looked at the figures a moment, and
then said, "It's a good deal more than a
quarter of an acre, and—it's more than a third of
an acre too."

"Yes, it's a little more than a third of an
acre: there's more ground in our house-lot than
I thought there was.  You know now about
how large those boys' farm was,—nearly three
times as large as our yard.  Now let's see
exactly how many roods and rods and yards and
feet and inches there are."

"How do you do that?" asked Felix, looking
very blank.

"Why, reduce your 1,875 square yards in the
garden, to higher denominations."

"Oh, yes!" replied Felix, brightening: "I've
done those sums lots of times, and those denominate
fractions like 1875/4840, but I never could
see any sense to it before.  Let's see,—what do
you divide by first?  Oh!  I remember, 30¼."

Felix figured away bravely; but when he gave
his result, it differed considerably from
Johnny's.  After some expressions of impatience,
he looked it over, and, with some assistance
from Johnny, found his mistake; their answers
then agreed; and he read the result aloud, with
something of an air of pride in his achievement,—

"1 rood, 21 square rods, 29 square yards, 6
square feet, 108 square inches.  And that's the
first time I ever saw any sense in square
measure, and all those things.  I thought
arithmetic was just to keep boys busy in school,
and I could always find enough to do without
it.  I tell you, I've played more pranks on the
teachers! and I didn't get found out very often
neither; and when I did, they didn't dare punish
me, for fear my folks would make a fuss;
and they would too."

"It is eight o'clock now; and I always read
to our children for an hour or so before they go
to bed," said Mrs. Le Bras, "or have them read
aloud to me."

"Let us all take turns to-night," said Johnny.
"You or father begin."

"Very well," said Mrs. Le Bras, taking a
book from one of the library-shelves.  "We are
to begin our new book to-night, which is
fortunate on Felix's account."

"It'll be awful stupid, I know," said Felix:
"all books are.  I wish books had never been
invented, and then a fellow would not have to
go to school at all."

"You begin, Frank," said Mrs. Le Bras.

Mr. Le Bras put down his paper, and began
to read in the book.  It was an account of a
pedestrian excursion made by two boys in the
Alps: they were German boys, and this was
the way they spent their summer vacation.

Felix did not intend to listen to the reading:
he had begun to draw comic pictures on his
sheet of paper; he was trying to represent
himself and Clyde, as he was falling from the roof;
his attempt, however, was not very artistic.  But
soon he became very much interested in the
story, and sat quite still, listening.  Mr. Le
Bras, after reading about fifteen minutes, passed
the book to Mrs. Le Bras.  She read about the
same length of time, and then passed the book
to Felix.  Felix said at first that he did not like
to read aloud, and would have passed the book to
Johnny.  But his uncle said, "No, Felix, I want
to hear you read;" and Felix, who stood rather
in awe of his uncle Frank, did not like to
disobey him.  He made so many mistakes, and
mixed his words up so badly by reading too
fast, that Sue was about to say she could not
understand his reading, when her mother shook
her head at her.

When Johnny's turn came, he read remarkably
well,—so much so, that Felix felt quite
ashamed of his own reading, which he knew
was not good, although he did not know exactly
what was the matter with it, except that he
could not pronounce all the words.  Sue read
exceedingly well for a little girl,—very much
better than Felix.

"It is nine o'clock now," said Mrs. Le Bras
at length, "and we must put the book aside
until to-morrow night."

"Oh, no!" exclaimed Felix: "we are at the
most interesting part now."

But Mrs. Le Bras explained that they never
read more than an hour in this way; and, as
she said this, she replaced the book on the shelf,
remarking that it was time for the children to
go to bed.

"I never go to bed till I get ready," replied
Felix, "and generally I sit up until ten."

"What time do you rise in the morning?"
inquired his uncle.

"Most any time,—about eight generally."

"We breakfast at half-past seven," replied his
aunt: "so you see you will need to go to bed
earlier than you do at home."

Mrs. Le Bras then bathed Felix's ankle again
with the arnica, and Mr. Le Bras said he would
help him up to his room.

So ended the first day of Felix's visit.
The next morning Felix's ankle was so badly
swollen that it was evident bicycle-riding was
out of the question for the present.

"I wish now," said he, "that I had brought
my pony and dog-cart; but I was tired of them
at home."

"Where are they?" asked Johnny.

"They're at our summer place, with the other
horses and carriages.  Oliver has gone down
there to take care of the horses and things
while father is gone."

"If we go to the cottage, can I ride in your
dog-cart?" asked Sue.

"Yes, if you want to; it's just fit for girls:
but give me a bicycle or a boat.  We've got a
sail-boat; but father won't trust me without
Oliver goes, and Oliver hates to go sailing with
boys.  I've got a row-boat of my own."

After breakfast, it was discovered that Clyde
was missing.  He had been put in the summer
kitchen for the night, and the door had been
left open.  The whole household called him,
and searched for him, except Mr. Le Bras;
but nothing could be heard or seen of him.  A
sudden suspicion flashed upon the mind of
Mrs. Le Bras; and she said, in a low tone, to her
husband, "Do you know where Clyde is?"

"The fewer questions you ask me, the better,"
he replied; and she said no more.

"If he is not found by to-night," said Felix,
"I shall have an advertisement put in the
paper."

"That would be of no use," replied Mrs. Le
Bras; "since his name, you say, was on his
collar, with the words, 'Owned by F. Le Bras.'  As
your uncle is the only man by the name of
Le Bras in town, and F. is his first initial, any
one who found him accidentally would bring
him here."

"While, if he was taken intentionally from
the shed during the night, as I have no doubt
he was, the person who took him does not
mean to return him," added Mr. Le Bras.

"Then, I must have another dog," replied Felix.

"Very well," said his uncle: "if you do not
find Clyde by the time we go to the seaside,
you shall have another; but I think, while you
are in town, you can get on very well without
a dog, provided Clyde does not find his way back."

"He would have woke us all up if the thief
had not muzzled him," said Felix.

"I presume he was muzzled," replied Mr. Le
Bras.  "This is a bad neighborhood for dogs;
I have no idea that you could keep a dog safe
here a week; there is a great prejudice in this
neighborhood against dogs."

Mr. Le Bras then turned the conversation by
saying to his wife, "You remember Pierre was
to stay here while his folks are away?"

"Yes," replied Mrs. Le Bras: "I am quite
willing he should come at any time; he makes
scarcely any trouble at all."

"Trouble!" exclaimed Sue: "I think he
makes a great deal of pleasure."

"So do I," said Johnny.  "When is he coming?"

"Week after next, I believe," replied Mr. Le
Bras, taking his hat, and going toward the door.
"His father and mother have decided to spend
the rest of the summer at the White Mountains,
on account of his father's health: he is
suffering seriously from malaria."

The next thing was, what was to be done
with Felix that day, since he was contented
with nothing but lively outdoor amusements.
Johnny was too polite and kind-hearted to
leave him to his own slender devices, while he
was in such a helpless condition; but he thought
sadly of the quiet and beauty of the sky-room,
which he had not been able to visit since Felix
arrived.





.. vspace:: 4

.. _`COMPROMISES`:

.. class:: center large bold

   CHAPTER V.


.. class:: center medium bold

   COMPROMISES.

.. vspace:: 2

"How will you amuse yourself to-day,
Felix?" asked Johnny, as they walked
aimlessly into the sitting-room.  Johnny was
thinking to himself, "I wish school was not
out, and then there would not be so much time
in which I should have to think of being polite
to Felix, instead of going about the things I
like to do myself, and which he don't care any
thing at all about."

"Oh!  I don't know, I'm sure," replied Felix,
yawning: "can't you think up something?  I
know it's going to be as stupid as can be.  I
wish I had insisted on going to Europe."

"I know what I would do, if I was only tall
enough," said Sue: "I'd try to ride Felix's
bicycle myself.  I think it must be great fun."

This made Felix laugh.  "It would be good
as a play to see you try," he said; "I just
wish you could; it would give us some fun to
see you wobble about on it, and scream every
time you thought it was going to fall over."

"Why don't you have Johnny try?" suggested
Sue; "it would be pretty near as much
fun; only Johnny wouldn't scream, if he did fall
over; he never screams at any thing."

"That's an idea," said Felix.  "Yes, Johnny,
you try the bicycle: it's great fun to see a
beginner."

Now, the truth was, Johnny had for some
time been wishing he had a bicycle, although
he had not as much as hinted this desire to his
father or mother; since he belonged to a
society of boys and girls who called themselves
"Independents," because they had pledged
themselves not to spend any money for
amusement, etc., which they had not earned
themselves.  Johnny wore the badge of the society,
and had taken great pleasure in earning the not
very large amount of money he needed for his
chemicals and other trifling expenses, by
carrying papers, and doing various other little odd
jobs which came in his way.  Indeed, he had
got to be the great errand-boy of the neighborhood,
because it had come to be understood
that he was willing to make himself useful for
a very reasonable remuneration.  His father
and mother had not discouraged this endeavor,
because Johnny was inclined to read and study
too much, and any thing which would divert
his mind out of doors in healthful exercise was
beneficial to him.  But as for earning enough
to buy a bicycle, of course that was beyond
Johnny's present abilities as an Independent.

"Would you be willing that I should try it?"
replied Johnny.

"Why, of course!  You may hurt yourself,
but you can't hurt the bicycle; and if you did,
I could have it mended or get another before
my ankle gets well."

"You must ask mother, Johnny," said Sue,
who began to look rather sober over the possibility
of Johnny's getting hurt.

Mrs. Le Bras was just entering the room.

"May I try Felix's bicycle, mother?" asked
Johnny, with a wistful look.

"Why, yes," she said, "if you can try it in a
safe way: you will have to have some one hold
it for you."

"I'll hold it, ma'am," said Kate, who was
clearing off the table in the dining-room: "I'm
very strong in my arms."

"The platform will be a grand good place to
mount," said Felix.  "You can step up on the
railing, and get right on: you can't get on as I
do, very well, until you get used to it."

"Come right out now, before I wash my
dishes," said Kate.

"But you must promise, Johnny, that if
think there is any danger, and ask you to get
down, you will obey me at once," said Mrs. Le
Bras: "I am almost sorry I said you could try,
before your father came home."

They all went out on the platform; and
Johnny brought the bicycle out of the shed, and
leaned it up against the railing of the platform,
near the steps on which Kate was standing.
Kate came out, and held the wheel with a firm
grip, while Johnny stepped on the railing, and
got upon the seat.

"Now, Katie," said Johnny, "just help me
wheel it out, where I can balance it."

Kate cautiously pulled the machine away
from the platform; while Johnny placed his
feet firmly on the pedals, and turned the wheel
slowly at first, while Kate was holding it.
"Let go now, Katie," he said.

"Shall I?" asked Kate doubtfully, looking
at Mrs. Le Bras.

"No, no!" cried Sue: "he'll fall if you do,
I know he will!"

"I am afraid so too," said Mrs. Le Bras.
"We don't want two boys with sprained ankles,
Johnny."

"But I think I can keep my balance," replied
Johnny; "and of course I can't learn to
ride while Katie is holding the wheel still."

"Oh, let go of it!" said Felix.  "I don't
believe he would fall; anyway, he can jump off:
he'll only waver around a little, but he's got to
do that before he learns."

"Move it over gently, Katie," said Mrs. Le Bras.

Kate tried to do this; but in moving her
hands to turn the wheel, Johnny, who was
working the pedals, eluded her, and sailed off
into the garden.  After he had gone a little
way, the bicycle wavered to the left.  Sue
shrieked; Kate rushed forward with
outstretched arms; and Mrs. Le Bras called out,
"Jump off, Johnny!"  But Johnny quickly recovered
his balance, and went bravely on down
the garden-walk.

"I knew he wasn't going to fall off," said
Felix.  "He's getting on all right."

Johnny experienced a slight difficulty in
turning around the walk at the foot of the
garden, but performed that feat without falling,
and arrived safely at the platform amid hearty
congratulations, and loud clapping of hands.

"I knew that boy could do any thing he
undertook," said Kate admiringly; for she was
very fond of Johnny.

"All that is necessary," said Johnny, "is to
preserve the centre of gravity."

Johnny then took a more extensive tour,
going around the house, and making another
circuit of the yard.

"I guess I can try the street now," he said:
"I might as well get really used to it while I
am about it.  I don't go very straight yet: but
there are ever so many beginners who go on
the street; I see them almost every day."

"Yes," replied Sue: "you go better than
Walter Cross now, and he's been trying ever
so long."

So they all went out to the front-door, to see
how the novice would succeed there.  The sequel
was, that Johnny rode out of sight, and left
them gazing into vacancy.

"If that boy don't beat all!" said Kate.
"Law, ma'am, he'll be on the race-course before
we know it."

"That is a good joke!" said Mrs. Le Bras,
laughing: "our professor on the race-course!
Aren't you afraid you have lost your bicycle,
Felix?"

"No," replied Felix: "this is prime! for uncle
will have to get Johnny a bicycle now, and then
we can ride everywhere together, when my
ankle gets well; for by that time he can ride
capitally, I'll bet."

Johnny came back in about half an hour,
quite flushed with success and exercise, and
looking very animated.

"I surprised the boys I met," said he.  "I
met Alec and Fred walking together, and they
said, 'Oh, you've got a bicycle too!  Now you
must go to ride with us.'  They were a good deal
disappointed when I said it wasn't my own."

"You've got to have one," said Felix: "I'm
going to tell uncle Frank so this noon!"

"No," replied Johnny.  "I can't buy one,—they
cost too much: but perhaps I can hire one
while you are here, sometimes; I know a boy
who rents his for so much an hour, when he
don't want to use it himself."

The bicycle was put away; and then Johnny,
who had enjoyed his success and the ride very
much, began to feel grateful to Felix for letting
him take it, and for saying he could use it
every day until his ankle got well.  It no longer
seemed such a heavy task to think up some
amusement for his cousin.  Mrs. Le Bras had
sat down at the sitting-room window with her
sewing.  Johnny stole up to her, while Felix
was whittling into the waste-basket, with his
back turned that way, and whistling rather
drearily.  "Mother," said he, "I have a mind
to ask Felix to come up and see the sky-room."

"Then," said his mother, in a whisper too
low for Felix to notice it, "you must not blame
any one if you are not able afterwards to have
it to yourself."

"No; but I'll make a bargain with him about it."

"Do as you please, only don't get fretted
over the consequences."

Felix was trying to cut out the deck of a boat.

"Where is your boat?" asked Johnny.

"I thought I'd make the deck first: I haven't
got the right piece of wood for the boat.  Have
you any thick blocks of wood?"

"No, but I can get some.  Richard Scott is a
great friend of the man who has charge of the
wood-working room at the brass-works, and
the man gives him any odd pieces of wood he
wants, and lets him use the machinery too: he
could cut out your boat in a very short time,
with a circular saw and other machines."

"I wish I could get him to do it, then: I'll
pay him for it.  What I like to do, is to rig a
ship: I can't make the hull very well."

"If you will let me take your bicycle again,
this afternoon, I will go down and see Dick
about it."

"Of course you can have the bicycle whenever
you want it, till my ankle gets well."

"You didn't know I had a room all to myself.
I have a room where no one can come in
unless I tell them they may: my father gave it
to me to read and study in."

"What a dismal place it must be!—I guess
I'll keep on with this deck, and then you can
take it down and tell Dick I want the hull
made of about that size."

"No, it isn't a dismal room at all: it is the
pleasantest room in the house, I think."

"Oh! you'd think a room was pleasant if it
just had some books and bottles in it, and an
old mortar and pestle, and a lot of such trash."

"I was going to say that if you want to come
in and see it some time, you can ask me, and I
will unlock it for you.  I shall be in there a
good deal of the time, probably; so, if you miss
me, you will know where I am, and can come
up if you want to.  Of course I will let you in,
if I am not very busy indeed."

"So it's up-stairs, is it?  Is it what you call
'the spare room'?"

"No: it's an unfinished part of the French roof."

"Ho!  It's up in the attic, is it?"

"Yes."

"Well, I guess you won't find me troubling
you much up in the attic this hot weather:
you must like to read, to go up there to do it!
When you get a room down-cellar, let me know,
and perhaps I'll pay you a visit once in a while."

So it did not seem very likely that Johnny's
generous disclosure would cost him very dear,
at present at least.  But how to get away from
Felix was still a question; although sitting
around, and seeing him whittle, and hearing him
fret about his ankle, was not very delightful
employment.  He had proposed, too, that, as
soon as he finished the deck, Johnny should
assist him in writing an advertisement to have
put in the paper, in case Clyde did not appear
by the next day.  Johnny finally took a book
from the bookcase, and sat down to read.

"Bother your book!" said Felix.  "Why
don't you talk?"

"I don't see as there is any thing in particular
to say."

"Who wants you to say any thing in particular?
There!  I've got that old deck done, I
hope!  What's your old book about?"

"It's about those boys and their one-acre farm."

"Haven't you read that about a thousand
times before?"

"I have read it twice."

"And I don't believe it's fit to read half a time."

"If you want me to, I'll read a little of the
first chapter aloud, so that you can see how
you like it."

"Fire away, then!  Only stop when I tell
you to, for I know I can't stand much of it."

Johnny began to read, in a clear, expressive
tone, while Felix picked up one of the pine
sticks he had laid on the floor, and began to
whittle a mast.  Pretty soon the shavings
began to fall almost anywhere except into the
basket; and Sue, who was playing with her dolls
in the corner, said, "Look out, Felix! your
shavings are falling over everywhere."

"Bother the shavings!" replied Felix, seeming
to notice them for the first time, and getting
down to pick them up.  "I don't believe
they ever spaded over a whole acre of ground
in any such time as that.  Just read that
over.—Oh!  I thought you said in one hour.
I mean to have father let me have an acre
of ground by the cottage next season, and
go down early, and see what I can do with it."

"But you have all the money you want without
earning it," said Sue.

"That's so,—I forgot that; but I just wish
my father was a poor man.  I'll bet I could do
as well as either of those boys.  Go on now:
let's see what they did next."

The morning had advanced considerably, and
yet Felix had not asked Johnny to stop;
although the masts were finished, and the
shipbuilder was lying on the floor with his head on
a hassock, for lack of any further employment.
Johnny's throat ached with reading so long, and
at last he felt obliged to say,—

"My throat is getting tired: let's put the
book up now, until some other time."

"No: go on a little farther; just finish up
that chapter, so you'll know where you left off."

"Stop a few moments, and rest, Johnny, and
then, if Felix wants you to, you can finish the
chapter," suggested Mrs. Le Bras, giving a
significant glance towards Felix, which was
intended for Johnny's benefit.  Johnny looked,
and saw that Felix's eyes were closed.  Johnny
put down the book, and in a few moments it
was evident his audience was sound asleep.
Johnny immediately rose softly, and left the
room: he went into the back entry, and then
ran up-stairs with light bounds to the sky-room.
He opened all the windows; and the breeze,
which was scarcely perceptible below, began to
blow in very freshly.  Johnny got one of his
philosophies, and sat down by one of the front
windows to read.  He did not lock the door,
since Felix had expressed himself as disinclined
to pay him any calls.  There was no danger of
visits from any other source, for Sue understood
that Johnny was not to be disturbed without
permission.  After reading in that book a while,
he took down another, still leaving the first open
upon the table.  After consulting the second
book, he took down the dictionary, and consulted
that.  While he was still in the midst of
his researches, he was startled by a loud voice
behind him.

"Well!  I say!  This isn't so bad, is it?
Let's call this aboard ship, with the sky for
sea; 'cause you can't see any land up here,
except off at a distance as you do on the water.
But I'd like to know if this is how you lock
yourself in?"

"I didn't think of any one's coming up,"
replied Johnny, looking blankly at the open
door.  "But that's all right," he added,
smiling.  "I'm not very busy now: I've got about
through with my studying."

"What are you studying?"

"I am studying about heat and light."

"What can you learn about those things, I'd
like to know?  When it's light, it's light; and
when it's hot, it's hot; and when it isn't either
of them, it's dark and cold."

"If folks didn't know any more about heat
and light than that, you would have to go
without a good many things you have now;
for instance, there wouldn't be any machine-shops
and railroads, and you couldn't have
your picture taken."

"Why not?" said Felix.

"I can't tell you very well to begin with, any
more than you could learn the back part of the
arithmetic before you had studied fractions.
But here is a magnifying-glass: we'll use it for
a sun-glass."

As Johnny spoke, he placed a piece of white
paper on the window-sill where there was a
patch of sunshine, and, taking a magnifying-glass
from the stand, held it above the paper
in such a manner as to bring the rays to a
focus.

"That is a regular sun-glass," said Felix: "I
have had one many a time.  It will burn the
paper in a minute."

"It is something like a sun-glass," replied
Johnny, "because it is a double convex lens."

"What do you mean by a double convex lens?"

"I'll show you in a moment."

Just then the paper began to burn, and
Johnny removed the glass.

"Why didn't you let it go on burning?" said
Felix.

"Because, you see, it was blackening the
paint on the sill, and might have burned into
the wood if I had kept the glass there.  Now,
what made the paper burn?"

"Why, you held the glass so that it made a
focus, and that made the paper burn."

"But why was there what you call a focus? and
why did that make the paper burn?"

"I never thought any thing about that,"
replied Felix, looking a little confused.  "Do
you know the reason?"

"Oh, yes!  I knew that the first time I ever
saw a sun-glass: my father told me.  Just
look at the shape of the glass on both sides;
it's convex, you see; that is, it rounds out
toward the centre.  The rounding of the glass
causes the rays of light to strike it obliquely
everywhere except in the very centre; and
when a ray enters a transparent surface
obliquely, or comes out of it obliquely, it is bent
out of its course in a particular manner,—it
would take too long to tell you exactly in what
manner, although I can lend you a book that
will show you exactly,—and in passing through
this convex lens, the rays are all bent towards
a point at a little distance from the glass, and
exactly opposite the centre of it; so that, if you
hold any thing that will burn easily exactly at
that point where the rays all join together,
their united heat is sufficient to burn the
article.  I know exactly why each side is made
convex, and why the glass is so much thicker
in the middle; but it would take a long time
to explain it to you, although you could read
about it all in fifteen minutes in one of those
volumes of 'Science for the Young,' there on
the shelf.  Any time you want to look it up, I
will show you the place."

"No: I don't want to be bothered with reading
it.  I guess what you've told me will do."

Johnny then held the glass over the paper again.

"The focus is the gathering together, or
concentration, of the rays of light; and as every ray
of the sun has heat in it, the concentration of
the heat of all the rays at that point makes the
paper burn."

"Then, the larger the glass,"—

"The convex lens, you mean," said Johnny.

"Yes: the larger the lens, the more rays of
the sun would be brought together at the
focus, and the more heat there would be?"

"Of course."

"Then, if I had a real big convex lens in my
room, in front of the window, I could sit in the
focus of it, in the winter, and keep warm
without any fire."

"You could keep too warm, perhaps; for you
know a sun-glass will burn your hand: but even
if the focus would be just right on a winter
day, the light would be too bright for your eyes;
and sometimes the sun wouldn't shine in at
your window, and you would get very tired of
sitting in one place.  Besides, a convex lens of
that size would cost a great deal more than a
very nice stove and ever so much coal.  So I
guess convex lenses will never take the place
of wood and coal, which are the best provisions
the sun has made for warming people, that we
know of yet, when it is not nearly enough over
their heads to warm them itself, or when its
rays are shut out by bad weather."

"I don't see what the sun has to do with
wood and coal," replied Felix, sitting down by
the table, and holding the magnifying-glass
over Johnny's books and various other objects
on the table.

"Why, the sun has stored up a lot of its heat
in wood and coal, and all those things which we
call combustibles."

"Come, now! none of your fooling," said
Felix, staring at Johnny incredibly: "there
isn't one bit of heat in wood or coal till you
burn them."

Johnny began to laugh.

"Why, of course they are not hot until they
begin to burn; if they were, you couldn't say
that the heat was stored up; it would be
escaping all the time: and then, wouldn't it be
dreadful to have the trees hot instead of
making a nice cool shade? and how could the
miners get the coal if it were hot? and how
could we carry fuel about from place to place? and
we should have to be made like salamanders,
if every thing around us that the sun had
put heat into was hot: we couldn't sit at this
table, or in these chairs, or handle these books;
and the floor would burn our feet, and our
clothes would feel hot."

"My clothes do feel hot," said Felix, beginning
to laugh, also, at Johnny's vivid picture of
what would be if the sun had not locked its
stored heat up so coolly and comfortably for our use.

"It isn't your clothes that are hot, though,
unless your body has heated them, or you have
been sitting or standing in the sun; it is you
who are warm, and your clothes keep the heat
that comes from your body from passing freely
into the air: your clothes themselves are not
any hotter than they would be if they were in
an ice-chest; that is, I mean the heat that the
sun has stored in your clothes would be every
particle there if your clothes were kept next to ice."

"I'd like to know, now, how you make all
that nonsense out?"

"Heat is force: in one sense, the heat of
the sun is the force of the sun.  Now, when
things are growing, the force of the sun goes
into them in some way, and makes them take
carbon out of the air, and hydrogen out of the
water in the ground, and from the rain and
dew: and just exactly as much heat or force as
the sun has put into a tree or plant, or any
thing else, can be got out of it by causing it to
burn; that is, making the carbon and hydrogen
contained in it, unite with the oxygen in the air.

"I don't wonder the boys call you professor,"
said Felix: "I'd like to know how you ever got
to know so much about every thing.  What
you say is a great deal harder to believe than
fairy-stories: I guess I'll go to believing
fairy-stories."

Johnny laughed again.

"Because some very strange things are true,
that is no reason every thing strange should be
true, or why some things should be true that
wouldn't be so very strange.  Do you like
fairy-stories?"

"Yes, I like them as well as any thing: I've
never read many stories but fairy-tales.  Story-books
are all lies; and if I'm going to read lies,
I'd rather read some good big ones."

"I don't think story-books are all lies.  I
don't think that story about the boys and their
farm is all a lie."

"Do you suppose there were two just such
boys, and that they had just such a farm, and
did just as those boys did?"

"No: I think very likely that was not all
true, and I don't much care whether it was or
not: but I know there might be two such boys,
and that they might do just as is described; and
that makes the story interesting, and a good
deal more so than a story might be about two
other boys with every thing told exactly as it
was and happened.  But I don't like fairy-stories,
because they couldn't be true, and so are
not like any thing I am interested in.  If there
ever was a fairy, I should like very much to
hear one described, even although this particular
fairy was only a made-up one.  I should
say, 'I have learned how a fairy might look and
act, which is a good deal as real fairies do look
and act.'"

"I like a good fairy-story, anyhow: only I
don't see why the fairies can't be men instead
of women; men-fairies could do a great deal
more wonderful things than women-fairies."

Johnny thought to himself that Felix was
much too large a boy to care for fairy-stories,
and to know nothing about books of a more
mature description; for Felix was nearly
fourteen,—a year older than Johnny, and also
taller and broader.

"Suppose you tell us how it is that this glass
magnifies these letters so much," said Felix,
after a little pause.

At that instant Sue entered the room, saying,—

"Why! you let Felix in the very first time
he came up, didn't you?  That's funny enough!
But dinner is ready, and papa has come, and
Katie is going to ring the bell before we come
down, if we don't hurry; and you know papa
don't like to have us late."

"I'll explain about the magnifying some
other time, then, Felix," said Johnny; and they
all went down-stairs.  Johnny forgot to lock
his door when he went out.  And when they
reached the next floor, Sue reminded him of it.

"Never mind," replied Johnny: "I guess
there won't any one go up before I do."

As soon as they entered the dining-room,
Felix said to his uncle, who was just sitting
down at his place,—

"Uncle Frank, Johnny's got to have a bicycle
right off: he's been riding mine around finely
this morning, and he likes it ever so much."

"Ah!" replied Mr. Le Bras.  "Is that so, Johnny?"

"Part of it is so; it's so that I rode on
Felix's bicycle, and that I like it: but I haven't
got to have one right off, because, in the first
place, I don't suppose you would feel rich
enough to buy me one; and in the next place, I
couldn't have one if you did; because I am an
Independent, and it would be spending money
for amusement which I did not earn."

"But it would not be your spending it, if I
made you a present of a bicycle; it would be
my spending money for my amusement or
pleasure or some other reason: I am not an
Independent, and even if I were, I have earned
my own money."

This was such an entirely different aspect of
the case, that Johnny was quite surprised.

"Why, I didn't think of that," he said.

"You see, lawyers can look at matters from
a good many aspects," remarked Mrs. Le Bras,
who had been inclined to think, as Johnny did,
that so expensive and unnecessary an article as
a bicycle would interfere with his being an Independent.

"But then," said Johnny, "of course you
are not able to buy me a bicycle; and, if you
are, you probably won't think it best for me to
have one."

"You are wrong in both instances.  To be
sure, I am not able to buy you a bicycle as a
mere amusement; but if a bicycle will save me
doctors' bills on your account, or have a
tendency to aid in your becoming a strong,
able-bodied man, it would be money in my pocket,
now and for years to come, to get you one.  It
would save me considerable worry, too, if you
could be diverted from your books, and engaged
in open-air exercise, far more than you have
heretofore been inclined.  Yes, Johnny, if you
want a bicycle, go down street with me after
dinner, while you are in that mind, and I'll fit
you out.  But remember, after I have spent so
much for the sake of your health, you must not
let it become an unnecessary expense to me
instead of a great saving of money, by not using
the bicycle more or less, every day, when it is
reasonably pleasant."

At first, Johnny was so astonished and grateful
and happy, that he could not reply; but
Felix said,—

"There!  I knew he'd do it right straight off,
Johnny!  That's just the way my father does."

Mr. Le Bras laughed at this.

"Johnny is not so used to having what he
wants at the first hint," he said; "but, in this
case, he happens to want just what I have been
wishing he would ask for, and so it comes easy."

Johnny went down street with his father after
dinner, and came back on his own bicycle, almost
too happy to express his delight at the acquisition.

After Felix had examined the new bicycle,
he remarked,—

"It isn't quite as fancy as mine, but it's
exactly as good for riding: yes, it's a real good
bicycle, Johnny.  How I wish my ankle was
well!  We'd go right off to ride together."

"I'll go right down now, and see Dick about
your boat," said Johnny; "and then you can
amuse yourself this afternoon, rigging it.  I
saw him, and asked him if he should be at the
shop this afternoon; and he said, 'Yes, come
down,' and I said I would."





.. vspace:: 4

.. _`TWO LESSONS FROM NATURE`:

.. class:: center large bold

   CHAPTER VI.


.. class:: center medium bold

   TWO LESSONS FROM NATURE.

.. vspace:: 2

After his first terror over the prospect of
having Felix with him for three months,
Johnny got on very well with his cousin.
Although it was evident Felix had been
accustomed to be very wilful and disobedient
towards his seniors, and overbearing, with his
companions, the respect with which his uncle's
decided yet friendly manner inspired him, and
Mrs. Le Bras' firm though mild manners, held
his forwardness and self-will well in check.  He
soon began to appreciate the advantage, also,
of having a boy like Johnny for a companion;
he had never before had the benefit of a
constant companion; and the boys with whom he
had been accustomed to associate were more
or less undisciplined, like himself, ready to be
offended and quarrel at the first provocation.
It would have been very difficult to quarrel with
Johnny, because he never gave any ground for
offence himself, and was not disposed to find
any such ground in the manners of others; the
most that he asked was not to be disturbed
in his quiet and studious ways; and there was
something in his gentle and thoughtful manner
which impressed even such a reckless boy as
Felix with something like deference and consideration.

About two weeks after Johnny had been presented
with his bicycle, and when he had learned
to ride it so well that none but an experienced
wheelman would have noticed that he was a
novice, Mr. Le Bras met the grammar-school
teacher who had been Johnny's instructor the
past year, preparatory to his entrance to the
high school.

"I see Johnny has become a bicyclist," said
Mr. Farnsworth.

"Yes," replied Mr. Le Bras: "what do you
think of the amusement?"

"A very good thing for Johnny, and a very
bad thing for some other boys."

"Ah!" replied Mr. Le Bras.  "How is that?"

"Why, there is Harrison Brown, for instance:
it would be the best thing for him if
he could be wholly deprived of his bicycle for
a time, and then allowed to ride it only Saturdays.
That boy's education is all going into his
legs, and all his vigor is going the same way.
He rides his bicycle before school in the morning,
at noon, after school at night, and every
Saturday.  Now, he is a backward scholar, to
begin with, and this wheeling has just used
him up, so far as learning any thing is
concerned: he comes to school all tired out,
without enough life and energy left to even give
attention to what the teacher says; and as to
studying, he hardly knows what lesson he is
expected to get from day to day; he sits half
asleep and dreaming,—probably dreaming of
his bicycle-rides,—and knows almost nothing
of what is going on around him: he has been
a mere figure-head all this year, and is no
nearer to entering the high school than he was
a year ago."

"I can see the disadvantage in such a case
as that," replied Mr. Le Bras: "in fact, I have
a nephew at my house who is wholly given up to
outdoor sports, fun, etc.; although he is such a
vigorous, wide-awake fellow, that he is not often
caught dreaming or asleep: he and Johnny are
having very good counter-influences upon each
other, I find; he is getting Johnny into
outdoor exercise more, and Johnny is beginning to
put the idea into Felix's head, that there is
some use and interest in books.  I think riding
a bicycle is a very good thing for Johnny: he
is so much inclined to sit down and read and
study, that we have apprehended serious danger
from it; indeed, the doctor is constantly
warning us to put some stop to it.  The teachers
have been very kind about heeding my request
to hold him back as much as possible at school,
but we have found it no easy matter at home to
keep him from his books.  I hope much from
his taking to bicycle-riding."

"A very good thing! a very good thing
indeed!" replied Mr. Farnsworth.  "The quickness
with which Johnny learns, and his fondness
for books, are extraordinary; considering that,
I think we have kept him back pretty well: a
good many quite ordinary scholars get into the
high school at thirteen, provided they have
been to school pretty steadily."

"Oh, yes!" returned Mr. Le Bras.  "I began
to prepare for college at twelve; but I was
very strong and healthy, and exceedingly fond
of outdoor sports.  I was fully as well balanced
physically as I was mentally, and that is what I
believe in."

"Just so! just so! you've got the right of it:
but I can tell you, there are very few boys who
are well balanced nowadays; they are chiefly
one thing or the other,—brains or brawn.
But I hope you'll bring Johnny out all right."

"You know Pierre Stein?" said Mr. Le Bras.

"Pierre?  Oh, yes! he's just right, isn't he?"

"I think so.  The Germans understand what
education should be better than we do, in some
respects.  But it is a great pity about his
father.  I'm afraid he will not be able to go back
to teaching for some time: and that is bad for
Pierre, too, just as he is ready for college; he
don't feel now as though he ought to ask any
help from his father.  I tell him, if I were he,
I would look out for some employment that
would pay pretty well without confining me too
closely, and be studying up to enter the junior
class next year: in that way he will lose no
time, and yet have some money to pay for the
next year at college."

"That would be a good idea.  What does he
say to it?"

"He agrees with me, but don't know where
to find such a place.  I have been looking about
for him myself, but nothing suitable seems to
offer.  I could give him considerable writing in
my office, but that would be bad for him: it
would soon use him up to write and study
constantly, although he is ready enough to
undertake it.  He has been in my office a good deal,
off and on, for several years, out of school-time.
You know, he used to be my office-boy when he
was a youngster?"

"Yes: he went to school to me then."

"I am some in hopes," continued Mr. Le
Bras, "that my nephew will take a fancy to
him: and if he does, I shall advise my brother
to hire Pierre next year for Felix's tutor; it
would be a great thing for Felix, and my
brother is able to pay a young man well for
bringing his son into the traces; he is what we
call a spoiled child at present."

"That would be an excellent arrangement, then."

"Yes; and as Pierre is to stay with us while
his father and mother are at the mountains, I
hope to bring it about by fall, when my brother
gets back from Europe.  In fact, Pierre is
coming home with me this noon to stay: his
parents start this morning.  Tell Lester to come
over and see him as often as he can."

"I will.  Lester and he were always good
friends, and Lester will be very much disappointed
that they cannot enter college together
this fall."

Mr. Le Bras and Mr. Farnsworth had now
reached the corner, and bade each other
good-morning, as they were going different ways.

Johnny and Felix had gone off on their
bicycles after breakfast.  They crossed the river
on the long, open bridge, which commanded a
fine view on both sides, and went up the river-road
on the other side, until they came to a hill
on the left.  The plan had been to go on up
the river to the manufacturing-town above, and
visit the carpet-mill there; but when they came
to the hill, Felix said,—

"Let's get off of this level road, and go up
on that hill: I want to show you how to come
down hill with your feet in rest."

"I don't believe I should like to try on such
a steep hill as that."

"It isn't any thing at all: the hill is just right."

Felix immediately turned, and rode up the
hill, which, although quite long, was not very
steep.  Johnny hesitated a moment, and then
followed, saying,—

"If we linger on the way very much, we sha'n't
be able to visit the mill and get home before
dinner."

"Never mind: all we want is a good time.
We can go to the mill some other time; and I
don't much care how carpets are made, so they
keep on making them all right."

Felix was considerably ahead; and when
he reached the top of the hill, he called out,—

"Oh! here's a steeper hill, Johnny!  This
is just fine!  Now I'll show you!"

When Johnny reached the top of the hill, he
saw there was a shorter and much steeper hill
a little way off, in a nearly opposite direction
from the river-road.

"Come, now, Johnny, just try it with me:
this is the way."

Felix then told Johnny just how to proceed
in going down the hill.

"But I don't like to try, the first time, on
such a steep hill," replied Johnny.  "I am
about certain I shouldn't have confidence
enough to do just right, and so should lose my
balance, or get a header."

"Nonsense!" replied Felix: "I can go down
this hill blindfolded.  I'll prove that I can."

Felix immediately alighted from his bicycle,
and, taking out his handkerchief, bound it about
his eyes.

"Please don't, Felix," said Johnny anxiously.
"I'm afraid you'll get badly hurt."

Johnny also alighted from his bicycle, for he
was resolved not to go down either of these
hills before he had tried some declivity that
was not as steep.

"Oh, ho!" said Felix, mounting his bicycle
without any apparent difficulty, in spite of the
bandage.  "I didn't suppose you were quite
so much of a coward!  Now just see me go
down this hill blindfolded."

With this, he glided off, while Johnny stood
almost holding his breath with suspense.  Felix
went on all right, and in a perfectly straight
course, until he was about half way down the
hill.  Johnny had begun to breathe more freely
at seeing how well Felix kept the middle of the
road, which was quite even: but all at once he
turned to the right, and the reason was at the
same time evident to Johnny; for a heavy team
appeared at that moment, around the turn,
coming up the hill.  Before Johnny had time to
wonder how his cousin had dodged this danger
so well with the handkerchief over his eyes,
Felix was thrown violently forward from his
bicycle, upon the rough surface at the side of
the road, which was covered with bushes,
briers, and stones.  Johnny uttered a terrified
"Oh!" and, dropping his bicycle, ran down the
hill, fearing that Felix was killed.  The
teamster at the same time alighted, and hurried
towards the fallen boy.  Felix was lying motionless,
half covered by the wild growth about him.
As the man had been rather nearer the scene
of the disaster than Johnny, and, having longer
legs, could run faster, he was just lifting Felix
up when Johnny got there.

"Is he killed?" asked Johnny, with whitened,
quivering lips.

The man brought Felix out of the bushes,
and put him down on a smooth strip of turf by
the side of the road: his face was covered with
blood.  But when Johnny drew off the bandage,
he could see that his eyes were open, and that
he was moving them about, although in a
vacant, languid manner.

"There's a pail in the bottom of my cart,"
said the man: "go and get it, and then run
to the brook down yonder, and bring some
water."

.. _`"To his delight, he found that Felix was sitting up."`:

.. figure:: images/img-120.jpg
   :figclass: white-space-pre-line
   :align: center
   :alt: "To his delight, he found that Felix was sitting up."

   "To his delight, he found that Felix was sitting up."

Johnny ran to the cart, and found the pail:
then, springing over the rail-fence, he hurried
to a little stream that ran through the pasture
below, scooped up some water hurriedly, and
hastened back.  To his delight, he found that
Felix was sitting up, although he was supported
by the teamster: still better, he was answering
a question the teamster had addressed to him.
Johnny did not hear the question; but he heard
Felix say,—

"I guess I didn't know much at first, but I
see where I am now."

The man had wiped off the blood as well as
he could with the handkerchief, and then bound
it around Felix's head; but his face was smeared
with blood, and the stained handkerchief added
to the ghastly effect.  Johnny pulled out his
handkerchief, and, wetting it in the water,
handed it to the man, after he had filled a little
telescope-cup, which he had brought in his
pocket to drink from if they should get thirsty
on their excursion.  The man told Felix to
drink some of the water, and then wiped the
blood from his face with Johnny's handkerchief,
and asked him how he felt.

"I guess I don't feel so very badly," he
replied, in quite a natural manner; "but I wish
that blood wouldn't come trickling down my
face all the time."

The bandage was by this time saturated, so
that it no longer absorbed the blood from the
wound: Johnny's handkerchief was wrung out
as dry as possible, and substituted for it.

"I'll tell you what we had better do," said the
man.  "I'll put him in my cart, and carry him
right to the doctor: he lives about as near as any
one, and he'll know just what ought to be done."

"Yes," said Johnny: "I wish you would."

It was found that Felix could now walk
tolerably well.  He was helped into the cart; and
the bicycle, which had continued on down the
hill a little way, and lodged in another clump
of bushes at the side of the road, was put in
behind.  The man then got in and drove up
the hill, supporting Felix with one arm; while
Johnny walked up, and got upon his bicycle,
for the man said the doctor lived on the hill.

They passed one house, and then came to a
brown cottage with a piazza running along the
side, facing an apple-orchard.  A little boy was
sitting upon the piazza, with some playthings
about him.

"Hallo, Charley!" said the man: "is your
father in?"

The boy made no reply, except to jump up
and run into the house.  The man stopped his
team, and Johnny alighted from his bicycle.
A moment afterwards, a gentleman came out
of the front-door, and approached them with,
"Good-morning, Mr. Jenks."

"Good-mornin', doctor.  I've got a boy here
who took a bad header going down our hill here
blindfolded: he's got lesson enough without
any remarks of mine, for he's cut a pretty deep
gash on his head.  I guess you'd better tend
to it, if you've a mind to, and send the bill in
to his father."

"Never mind the bill," replied the doctor in
a hearty, cheery tone, as he helped Felix out
of the cart.  "I was a foolhardy boy myself
once, and I'm willing to help a young fellow
out of a little trouble, any time."

"I can pay, myself," replied Felix: "I guess
I've got money enough in my pocket; and if I
haven't, I can come over some day and bring
the rest."

By this time, his face was very bloody again,
although he had been wiping it with his
handkerchief, which Johnny had rinsed in the pail.

"I'll pay you for your trouble, too," said
Felix, as the man began to drive on.

"No, you don't!" replied Mr. Jenks.  "That's
all right.  Hope the doctor can make you as
good as new."

Johnny leaned his own bicycle and that of
Felix against the fence, and then followed the
doctor and his patient into one of the front
rooms, which was the doctor's office.  The
doctor immediately washed Felix's face, and then
bound the wound together with strips of court-plaster,
after cutting the hair as close as possible
in the neighborhood of the gash.  It was
evident that Felix had struck his head against
the sharp edge of one of the stones at the side
of the road.

"There, young man," said the doctor, when
he had finished: "you'll be all right after
a while, and you'll be a little wiser than you
were before; so, on the whole, you may be
even better off for the accident.  But what
possessed you to try to go down hill on a
bicycle blindfolded?"

"I just did it to make Johnny wonder how
it was done: I've tried it before with the
boys at home, without their finding out the
trick.  I didn't put the handkerchief so but
what I could see some, just down under;
and I should have been all right, because I
could see the ground close ahead of me well
enough; only when I heard the team coming,
I lifted up one side of the handkerchief so as to
pass all right, and then I turned out to the side
without thinking of its being rocky there; and
as I couldn't see off that way, easily, because
of the handkerchief, I ran on a stone all of a
sudden, and that gave me a header.  If the
team hadn't come, I should have kept on in the
middle of the road all right."

"This going along without the full use of
your eyes isn't a good plan, you see, young
man; and it's so all through life.  Keep your
eyes wide open, my boy, keep your eyes wide
open.  And now about your getting home.  I
presume you feel pretty weak and faint after
losing so much blood, and having something of
a fright?"

"No; I'm all right now, I guess; I'll pay
you, and then I'll get on my bicycle and ride
home."

Felix pulled out his pocket-book, opened it,
and took out some bills.  "How much will it
be?" said he.

"You are quite a capitalist, I see," remarked
the doctor; "but put up your money; I don't
want any pay; you are perfectly welcome."

"No: I shall pay," replied Felix.  "I've got
plenty of money."

"In that case, if you think you will feel better
for paying, you can give me a dollar, which
is the usual fee for such an operation when the
patient comes to my office; but you would be
quite welcome to the service free of charge."

Felix handed the doctor a dollar, and then
said he guessed he had better be going.

"You must not go for an hour, at least,"
replied the doctor, "or I cannot promise that you
will have no unpleasant results from your
injury.  Sit down in the fresh air a while, on the
piazza, with your friend, until you are fully
certain that you are equal to the exertion of
returning home.  At the end of an hour I will
feel of your pulse and tell you whether you can
go on your bicycle, or had better be sent home
in my carriage."

The doctor then felt of Felix's pulse, and
continued,—

"No, you can't go yet, my boy: just step out
on the piazza, and sit down in that arm-chair,
till I see you again."

Although Felix would have preferred to have
his own way, there was something in the
doctor's manner that made him hesitate about
attempting to disregard his advice, the more
especially as the doctor took hold of his arm,
led him upon the piazza, and sat him down in the
large out-of-door rocker, with its wide, comfortable
arms.  Once set down in front of the cool
orchard, Felix felt a consciousness of languor
and restfulness that made him quite willing to
keep his seat.  Johnny seated himself on a
settee near; and the little boy, who had gone back
to his play, said,—

"Isn't this a good place to stay in?"

"Yes," replied Johnny.  "I should like just
such a place to sit and read in, of a summer
day: it's almost as good as the sky-room, isn't
it, Felix?"

"I guess so: only you can't see much of the
sky; it's all green whichever way you look,
except where the house is."

"That would make it all the better for reading,
because green is such a good color for the eyes."

"It's lucky, then, that the grass and leaves
are green instead of red: if every thing were red
and yellow always, as the trees are in autumn,
it would get to be sort of tiresome, I suppose."

"It isn't luck that makes the foliage green,"
replied Johnny; "somehow or other, Nature
does it on purpose; you can tell that because
every thing is all right in just the same way: if
it was luck, things would happen right only
now and then, and sometimes they would
happen all wrong and uncomfortable."

"They do happen uncomfortable, lots of
times: it's uncomfortable to have the sun hot
in the middle of a summer's day.  If Nature
wants to fix things all right, why don't it have
it just about the right warmth all day, summer
and winter?"

"There are ever so many things we need to
eat that would never ripen in that case, besides
a great many other disadvantages.  You see,
Nature don't always do what is pleasantest for
us at the time, but what is best for us in the end.
She might make every thing so convenient that
nice crops would grow without any care, and we
should have our clothes all ready made and fitted
for us, like that cow and horse over in the lot;
but it is better for us to have to work and
contrive to supply our own wants out of the
material that Nature has supplied in the rough,—like
trees for our fine houses, and cotton, flax,
wool, and silk for our hundreds of sorts of clothes."

"She has made some things all ready for us:
there are fruits and milk and vegetables and
meat for food, and furs for clothing."

"Yes, of course, she supplied some things
all ready to eat and wear, so that folks could
get along until they became civilized; and
then, you see, she is very good-natured, and
likes to make it as easy and comfortable for
us as she can without spoiling us and making
babies of us: there are ever so many pleasant
things in the world that we could get along
without; but it is intended that it shall be a
pleasant world to live in after all, so that we
sha'n't want to get out of it before we've learned
all we need to learn.  I suppose that's why
death is made to seem so horrible; for if death
seemed pleasant, we shouldn't take such good
care of our lives."

"How did you know all that?"

"Some of it I learned myself by studying
about Nature from books, and some my father
and mother told me ever so long ago, and some
I've heard the minister say at church."

"Our minister don't say that Nature looks
out for us: he says God does it.  I don't pay
much attention to what he says; but as he
always keeps on saying that, I can't help
remembering it."

"He says God takes care of you, and gives
you a pleasant home, don't he?"

"Yes."

"But it's your father and mother that do it,
too, isn't it?"

"Yes: it always seems to me that the minister
don't put it right, and I've wanted to tell
him so, sometimes."

"Yes, he puts it right, if you understand
what he means: he means that God made the
world so that children have parents to take care
of them.  God don't appear to do things in this
world directly himself, but seems to have
agents to carry out his plans; and Nature is
the greatest of these agents, who appoints all
the smaller agents.  Of course, God made
Nature, and some think he is in Nature; and
we can find out a good deal about him by
studying her ways."

"What can you find out?"

"We can find out that he is wise and good,
and that he doesn't let us know every thing in a
minute, even about his wisdom and goodness,
and that we've got to wait until we get into
another world before we can understand the
meaning of some things that happen in this
world; so we learn to have faith in him,—that
is, to believe he will make every thing right
sometime, even though we can't see how."

"Do you suppose we shall ever know just
how the trees and grass came to be so green?"
said Felix, who was getting sleepy, and looking
dreamily into the thick, low boughs of the
apple-orchard.

"Why, we know that now; that was explained long ago."

"Was it?  Well, I'd like to know how.  I
never heard any one tell about it."

"Hasn't your teacher at school told you
what makes colors?"

"She's talked something about it; but I
never saw any sense to what she was saying,
and so I didn't pay attention."

"I learned about that in the primary school,
but I didn't understand it very well until I read
about it in my 'Science for the Young.'  I'll
see if I can explain it to you."

There was a rubber ball among the little
boy's playthings, and Johnny asked him if he
might take it a few moments.  As the boy was
not using the ball, he handed it to Johnny very
willingly, saying, "You can play with it as long
as you've a mind to."

Johnny threw the ball on the floor of the
piazza in a straight line, remarking,—

"You see, Felix, the ball bounds right back
to my hand, in just the direction in which I
threw it down."

"That's nothing: everybody knows that a
ball always does so."

"But that is just the way some of the rays
of light bound back whenever they strike any
thing which is not transparent; that is, if they
strike it directly, or at a right angle.  The rays
which come back are called reflected rays.
Every thing which is not transparent reflects
light that shines upon it; that is, the light
bounds back.  It is just the same with heat:
that which is not absorbed by the substance
upon which it falls, bounds back, or is reflected."

"If that's so, what of it?"

"Why, that's what makes the grass green,
and flowers of different colors, and your suit
blue, and your necktie red, and your eyes
brown: that's what makes things seem to be
colored."

"Seem to be colored?  Why, they are
colored! my suit was colored with a blue dye, and
there's a kind of green dye in grass: I've got
it on my stockings and handkerchiefs many a time."

"The juice, or fluid, in the grass looks green,
just as the grass does, because its particles are
so arranged that they absorb all of the light
except the green rays, and those they reflect.
The substance of those roses out there in the
garden absorbs all except a red part of the
light, and reflects that.  Your collar reflects all
the colors in the light, and that makes it white,
which is the mixing of all the colors together in
certain proportions.  My spectacle-case looks
black, because it absorbs the light without
reflecting any of it.'"

"I don't believe that," replied Felix: "I
shall always believe things are colored in
themselves, without any regard to the light.  How
do you know that there are different colors in
light?  You can't see any thing but a kind of
yellow."

"You can't see yellow, unless it is reflected."

"Why, yes, you can.  Look over in that field;
it's just as yellow there where the sunshine falls
as can be; and where it falls between the trees
here in the orchard, the green looks yellowish,
while it is just bright green under the trees;
and the sun itself is just as yellow as can be."

"The grass has been mowed out in that lot,
so the sun has dried it, and changed the substance
of it so that it reflects more yellow rays.
I suppose that here in the orchard more of the
rays striking the parts that are not protected
by the trees gives a different reflection.  As
for the sun being yellow, it isn't always yellow;
that is, I mean it doesn't always look yellow;
I have seen it look quite red."

"If it isn't yellow, I'd like to know what color
it is!" exclaimed Felix, rather impatiently.

"I don't suppose it is any color at all, though
it gives the impression of a good many colors
to our minds: color is nothing but a sensation
produced by the kind of light that is reflected
to our eyes.  But light that is not separated at
all, gives us only a sensation of whiteness.  I
don't suppose the sun would look yellow to us
if we could see it without looking through any
air.  The air even changes the direction of the
sunlight so as to make the sun appear to us to
rise a little while before it does rise."

"I don't see how folks found out all that,
and I don't believe they have!  I'll bet they
made it all up!"

"I have a fine prism at home: we'll go up
in the sky-room this afternoon, and I will
separate some light into its different colors.  But
look here, Felix! see!  When I throw this
ball against the floor in a slanting direction,
notice how it bounds back the other way in
just such a slant line as I threw it in from this
way.  Light does just like that, and heat too:
if a ray of light strikes a plane surface at a
slant, it is reflected the other way in exactly
the same slant.  And it's something so when
light passes through any transparent substance:
it comes out the other side just as it
went in.  That is, if it goes in at a slant, it
comes out at the same slant it went in at,
making an angle; but if it passes in at a right
angle, as I throw this ball against the floor,
it comes out and goes on the other side, in the
same straight line."

"I should think it would make your head ache
to try to study about such things," said Felix,
with a yawn; "it makes mine ache just to hear
about it; it's all so queer and unlikely and
mixed up.  I think it's ever so much pleasanter
to just take things as they are, without
trying to make out what makes them so and so.
I'm glad the grass is green, and the sky blue,
and that there are other pretty colors in the
world; but I don't care a cent what makes
them so.  Though I don't believe the color is
just in the sun or our eyes."

"I like to know why things are so and so;
in order to see how wise and beautiful the
laws of Nature are, and what wisdom and
beauty there must be in all the rest of the
universe."

"What do I care about the rest of the
universe? all I care about is the part of it which
I am in."

"But when we see how wonderful this little
part of it is, we can get a pleasant idea of what
another world might be which we shall go into
when we leave this: and that is ever so much
pleasanter than having such a common idea
about it as some folks have, as a place paved
with gold, and built of stones; or to have no
idea of it at all, or only to think of just being
dead and buried.  When we learn how every
thing is made for some purpose, and nothing
ever really dies, and then remember that
our minds and feelings are the very highest
part of all creation, and the most delicate and
complicated, we feel very certain that there is
some great future before us that we can't tell
any thing about."

"If you can't tell any thing about it, what's
the use of trying?"

"Why, it's enough for us to see that it must
be something grand; that's all we want to know
now: we've got plenty to enjoy and take up
our minds here; all we want to know is, that
we shall keep on having enough to busy us,
and make us happy always; and Nature tries
to tell us that in every way she can, or as
much about it as she thinks it best for us to be
told of.  I am sure I am happier for knowing
what little I have learned; and it makes me
happy, too, to keep on learning curious things
about Nature."

"I'd rather ride 'round on a bicycle, and see
what's going on, any time, than study about
such things," replied Felix, with another and
longer yawn.  "I know I feel well enough to
ride home now.  I'm going to get my bicycle."

Felix immediately rose, and walked around
the house to the place where Johnny had placed
the bicycles.  But Johnny went into the office,
and told the doctor Felix was determined to go,
and asked him if he would try his pulse.  The
doctor, who had been sitting near a window of
his office, not far from where the boys were
conversing, had heard the whole of their
conversation.  But as the blinds were closed, the
boys had not noticed this, and were rather
surprised when, after feeling Felix's pulse,
and saying it was safe for him to go, he
remarked,—

"Well, my boy, you have had two lessons from
Nature this morning: she taught you herself
that you will get punished if you trifle with her
laws,—viz., in this case, if you try to get along
without using the eyes she has given you,—and
she has taught you, second or third hand,
through Johnny, something of the way in
which she produces her beautiful and useful
effects.  So, although this is vacation time, you
see a great many things can be learned outside
of a schoolroom.  Life is a great school, and
you have just begun your course in it.  Make
the most of your advantages; for some folks
go through life without learning much of any
thing, just as some boys go through school
and college, yet come out ignoramuses at last."

The doctor then told the boys he should like
to have them stop any time they came that
road, and that, if they would come in apple-time,
they might take their choice of fruit from
the trees in the orchard.

After, they were on their way, Felix asked,—

"What is an ignoramus?"

"It's Latin for an ignorant person," replied Johnny.

Felix looked thoughtful a moment, and then
he began to whistle: he was thinking how little
he had learned at school, and wondering if he
was in danger of going through life, and
turning out an ignoramus at last.  He wondered,
too, if he was so much duller than Johnny, or
what the reason was that Johnny knew so much
and he so little.  As he did not like to take any
blame himself, he concluded it was because his
father and mother did not try to teach him any
thing, and did not seem to know any thing
themselves of these things which Johnny had learned
about, and part of which he said his father and
mother had told him.

When they came to the hill, Johnny got off
of his bicycle, and walked down.  At first, Felix
was inclined to laugh at him; but when he
reflected how much smarter Johnny was than
himself in some ways, he refrained for once to
boast of his superior acquirements.

When they reached home, they found the
family at the dinner-table; and at one end of
the table, by the side of Sue, sat a young man
with auburn hair, which, being closely cut, stood
up smartly all about his head.  His eyes were
hazel, his complexion ruddy, and he had a very
bright and good-natured expression of countenance.

"How d'y' do, Pierre?" exclaimed Johnny,
apparently very much pleased at seeing the
young man.  "Have you come to stay?"

"I believe so," replied Pierre, smiling.

Johnny had sat directly down at the table,
since he knew his parents did not like to have
him late; but Felix remained in the sitting-room
with his hat on, looking curiously through
the door at Pierre.

"Come, Felix, don't be any later than necessary,"
called out his uncle.  "I do not think
Johnny timed himself very well, or you would
have been home earlier."

Johnny said nothing in self-defence; but
Felix replied promptly,—

"We were late because I had a header, and
that's the reason I don't like to come to the
table: I've got a lot of court-plaster on my
head."

Mr. and Mrs. Le Bras immediately rose from
the table, and went into the sitting-room to
examine into the extent of Felix's injuries; but
when he told them he felt pretty well, and had
no objection to eating dinner except concern
for his personal appearance, their minds were
much relieved.  His aunt bound a handkerchief
over the wound; and his uncle led him out, and
seated him in his usual place, beside Johnny.

"Johnny must entertain us with an account
of your adventures," said Mr. Le Bras; "but
you had better keep pretty still yourself, this
afternoon, Felix."

Felix kept quiet while Johnny was telling
the story, but more because Pierre was present,
and he was quite busy observing this new member
of the family, than from any disinclination
to talk.  He was a little afraid, too, that his
uncle might be displeased with his trying to
cheat Johnny about the blindfolding.  Johnny
did not refer to that deception, however.  But
when Mr. Le Bras said, "How could you do
such a foolish thing, as to attempt riding with
a bandage over your eyes?"  Felix stated exactly
how it was, rather than have it supposed he was
so very foolish as appeared.

"Very well: I will not say any thing about
the deceptive part of the performance," said
Mr. Le Bras; "when one has had the kind of
lesson you have, words don't add much to it.
But it seems a very astonishing good fortune
that there were no bones broken, and no worse
bruises or wounds."

"I think that was on account of the bushes,"
replied Johnny; "he fell right into a whole lot
of stout bushes: but there happened to be
quite a high stone, and so his head hit against it."

"I hadn't but just got over my lame ankle,"
said Felix, "and now I was awfully afraid I
should be laid up again.  But I don't feel badly
at all: I guess I'll go up to the carpet-mill with
you this afternoon, Johnny."

"No, young man," replied his uncle: "no
more bicycling for you to-day.  Amuse yourself
around home this afternoon, and we will
see how you feel to-morrow.  In fact, I shall
veto more than half a day's riding at a time,
either on your part or Johnny's; that is enough
for any boy; and always take the cool of the
morning for it too."

Felix would have liked to remonstrate, but
there was a decision about his uncle's manner
which prevented his objecting at that time.





.. vspace:: 4

.. _`PIERRE'S STORY`:

.. class:: center large bold

   CHAPTER VII.


.. class:: center medium bold

   PIERRE'S STORY.

.. vspace:: 2

The evening reading had continued as
usual: it was a practice that had been
instituted when Johnny was a little boy, and
was never omitted unless Mr. and Mrs. Le Bras
had company or were away from home at that
hour in the evening.  Felix had so much trouble
in reading distinctly, and pronouncing words,
that he had finally declined taking part
altogether: he saw that even Sue could read far
better than he could, and he began to be
ashamed of his own deficiency in this line.
But he had become quite interested in hearing
the others, and was glad when the reading-hour
came.

Mr. Le Bras had insisted upon Felix's going
to bed early the evening after the header, and
he had obeyed quite willingly: indeed, he owned
that his head did not feel quite right.  When
the time for reading came, Mr. Le Bras said,—

"I feel badly about Felix's poor scholarship.
It would be a great thing for him if he could
learn to read while he is here.  I wonder how
my brother could allow him to grow up so
deficient as this!"

"He says he never read much in any books
except the readers at school, either aloud or to
himself," remarked Johnny, "and that no one
ever read to him, except his nurse when he was
a little boy, and she always read fairy-stories: I
suppose that is the reason he says he don't like
to read any thing but fairy-stories.  He thinks
he could get through a fairy-story now, better
than any other.  I guess that is because the
fairy-story books are generally written for
young children, and so have easy words in them."

"Very likely," replied Mr. Le Bras.  "Pierre,
do you think you could contrive any way to get
Felix to read to you, and so teach him how to
enunciate and pronounce a great deal better
than he does?"

"Possibly," replied Pierre; "but I may need
a little help to begin with.  Suppose you offer
him something you think he would like very
much, if he will learn to read one story well, I
being the teacher, and you the judge, who are
to hear the final reading after I pronounce him
ready for the test?"

"That is a good idea.  Do you know of
any thing in particular that Felix would like,
Johnny?"

"He has money to buy about every thing he
wants; but I did hear him say once he would
like to visit Boston, now he is so near, because
he never was in Boston."

"That will answer nicely.  I am going to
Boston on business before we start for the seaside;
and if Felix will learn to read the story
well, I will take him and you with me."

The next morning, Mr. Le Bras took Felix
aside, and told him he was very anxious he
should learn to read, as that was the first step
toward a good education, and a very essential
one, as well as something which could be
learned out of school, and could be made a
recreation instead of a task; also that by devoting
a little time each day to reading aloud from
some interesting book, to a person competent
to give advice and corrections, the deficiency
could be soon remedied.  He then made the
proposal that Felix should at once make a
beginning, by learning to read some short story
well, and said Pierre would teach him, and that
he himself would offer the trip to Boston as an
inducement.

Felix was quite well pleased with the plan:
he thought it would be rather fine to have a
young man like Pierre to teach him, and he
was exceedingly pleased with the idea of going
to Boston.  He had secretly been wishing he
could read as well as Johnny, or at least as well
as Sue; but he did not own this.

After the bargain was made, Mr. Le Bras
took Felix by the hand, and led him up to
Pierre, who was sitting in the piazza, reading
the morning paper.

"Here is a scholar for you, Pierre," said he:
"you can look him up a story to learn as soon
as you please; and the sooner he reads it
correctly, the sooner we will visit the famous city
of Boston."

Mr. Le Bras then left Felix and Pierre alone
together.

"What kind of a story shall we select?"
inquired Pierre.

"I don't want any thing very hard.  I think
fairy-stories are always the easiest to read.
I've never read aloud except at school: and the
teacher don't say any thing to you, if you only
get through a paragraph somehow; at least, she
never says any thing to me.  My mother told her
she didn't want me pushed; she was afraid it
would make me sick: and my father said he didn't
care how long I was getting my education."

"But you might be so long getting it, that it
would be very unpleasant for you: I think it is
generally unpleasant for a boy to be in school
with children a good deal younger than
himself.  And then, you won't want to be so long
getting an education that you will be a man
before you have learned all that is necessary;
for a man don't want to keep on going to
school, even if he has ever so much money."

"No," said Felix: "you won't catch me
going to school when I'm a man."

"So I am to find you a fairy-story?" continued
Pierre.  "Well, I will be looking up one
that I think will suit you.  It may take me
several days; but, after I've found it, we'll make
up for lost time by beginning to learn to read it
nicely as soon as possible, in order that your
Boston trip may not be unnecessarily delayed."

Since Pierre was helping Mr. Le Bras at his
office at present, Felix saw him only at
meal-times, and had almost forgotten about the
fairy-story, except when the reading-hour came
at night, at which time Pierre was usually out
calling on some of his friends, until one
afternoon several days afterwards, when Pierre came
home with a book in his hand.

"Is my story in that book?" inquired Felix.

"No," replied Pierre; "but I think I can
have the story ready for you by to-morrow.
And now the question is, what time of day will
you give to it, and how long will you read each day?"

"I couldn't read more than a half an hour
at a time, possibly; and I think I'll have it
over right after breakfast before I go off on my
bicycle; then it will be off my mind for the
rest of the day."

"That is a good plan, and the time will suit
me very well.  So we will say to-morrow morning,
and so on, until you have earned your trip.
Should you like to hear the story first to see if
you like it?"

"No: I don't believe I care any thing about
hearing it."

"Oh, yes!" said Sue.  "Do let's hear it.
Read it to us all, this evening, Pierre; 'cause we
got through with our other story last night, and
I do like fairy-tales so much!"

"I don't," said Johnny, "because there isn't
ever hardly any kind of truth in them at all."

"Then, the one I have is an exception,"
remarked Pierre.  "I flatter myself that there is
considerable truth in the fairy-story I have
found."

"I am sure, since Pierre has been so long
finding it, it must be an unusually good fairy-tale,"
remarked Mr. Le Bras, smiling: "I should
like to hear it myself very much, and so, I am
sure, would Mrs. Le Bras."

"Certainly," replied Mrs. Le Bras: "I want
to hear it very much indeed, Pierre.  Do read
it to us to-night, if you have no engagement
out at that hour."

"Very well, then, since you all insist, and I
shall be in early this evening, I will read the
story to you; but you must not expect any
thing wonderful, for you know Felix wanted
an easy story to begin with.  This is a regular
paper-covered one-story book, in large print."

"I am glad it is large print," said Felix: "I
can always read that sort of books better."

Pierre came home early, as he had promised;
and when the family were all ready for the
reading,—even Kate having come in to hear
the fairy-story,—Pierre took out of his pocket
a large, thin book, in a plain green paper cover,
and seated himself in the arm-chair which Johnny
had placed near the drop-light on the table.
Johnny, upon glancing over Pierre's shoulder,
was astonished to see that the story had been
printed upon a typewriter, and was about to make
some remark regarding that circumstance when
his father caught his eye, and shook his head at
him.  Johnny knew by this, that there was some
secret about it, which was not to be divulged, at
present at least.  Felix also glanced over Pierre's
shoulder; but as he had never seen a typewriter,
not having yet visited his uncle's office,
he supposed the story was printed like any
ordinary book.  As for Sue, she was sitting by
her mother, waiting impatiently for Pierre to
begin, which he did, after Mr. Le Bras had
said,—

"We are all ready now, Pierre.  Go ahead."

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   RICK AND THE FAIRY.

.. vspace:: 1

Rick Lordelle was the only child of a rich
man.  In the winter he lived in a great city;
but in the summer he lived in a famous old
castle upon the bank of a river which wound
between grand, picturesque mountains.

But although Rick was the son of a rich man,
he was in great danger of growing up a dunce:
worse than that, he was in danger of growing
up regardless of any law except his own will.

His father was so busy, and so much from
home, that he saw little of him; and he was so
fond of the boy, and so proud of his beauty and
high spirits, that he only laughed at his
pertness and independence.  To be sure, he was
very sorry that Rick did not take to his books;
but he had not sufficient firmness to insist upon
his going to school, or having a tutor at home.
Rick boldly declared that he would not go to
school; and as for having a tutor, he had had
several already, neither of whom he liked, or
would obey, or treat with respect.  His father
kept saying,—

"We will wait a while, and see if some way
cannot be found to coax him to be a scholar.
Before he is much older, I may come across a
tutor who will suit him, and make it pleasant
for him to learn."

Rick's mother was so fond of him, that she
would not have him crossed in any thing, if she
could help it.  She, too, wanted him to learn
something, and often tried to persuade him to
say his lessons to her or Nanette; but his
attention could seldom be gained for fifteen
minutes at a time.  As for persuading him to go to
school, it would have been as well for her to try
to persuade a young lion to go there.

Nanette had more influence over him than
either his father or mother.  She was a very
bright and sensible young woman, and had
helped to take care of Rick ever since he was
a baby.  Although he would not mind Nanette
unless he pleased, he was more willing to obey
her than any one else; and as she was a very
good story-teller, and had a particular gift at
telling fairy-stories, she could often persuade
him to do as she wished, by the promise of one
of her wonderful tales.  The fairies she told
about were generally old women who lived in
the woods, and could make persons rich and
beautiful, or poor and ugly, and tell what would
happen to any one, and make every thing turn
out to suit themselves.

Rick had sometimes asked Nanette if there
were any fairies about the castle, and she had
told him she knew of no better place for them
than in those wild mountains; but as they never
came near houses, that she knew of, and she
did not go into the mountains, she had never
seen any herself.

One day Rick had a bright idea.  Why did
he always ride up and down the river-road
which he knew so well, instead of striking off
across the mountains, at one of the many lanes
which he had sometimes followed a little way
until he found they led into the forests?  What
might there not be beyond those hills that was
new and strange?

Beyond those mountains must he go, and
that right speedily.

He at first told his mother of his intention,
not expecting any worse opposition than that
she might insist upon his being accompanied
by the groom.  But his mother, for once,
replied "No," with some decision: it was a wild
region, she said; there was nothing behind the
mountains but other mountains, which ended
she knew not where.  She never had crossed
those mountains herself; his father had never
crossed them; no one would think of attempting
it.  Sometime, when he was older, his
father would take him around to the other side
of the mountains, by the cars or some other
conveyance; but even a grown man would not
try to cross them.

Rick made no reply, but simply resolved to
investigate for himself.  He had sometimes
known his mother to represent dangers far
worse than he knew them to be, in order to
keep him away from them: he thought, as
likely as not, it was a far more easy and
common thing to cross those mountains than she
had represented.

So, what did this venturesome youth do but
start off the very next day, ostensibly for a
ride up the river, but with the real intention of
penetrating into the mountains by one of the
mysterious paths, to test the correctness of his
mother's statement.

Gayly he rode along the beautiful river-road;
and his mother, from the castle-window,
watched him until he was out of sight.

"How well he rides!" she said to Nanette.
"He looks exactly like a little lord."

Nanette made no reply: she was thinking to
herself, "But he can neither read nor write with
any decency, and he is not mannerly nor obedient."

On rode the "little lord," over the winding
road, until many a turn, and at least two good
miles, had separated him from the castle.

There were several narrow roads leading into
the wooded district which bordered the
river-road.  Beyond these woods rose the mountains,
some near, some distant, blue and purple
against the fleecy sky.

A delightful sense of novelty took possession
of Rick as he entered one of these unknown
paths.  He felt as an explorer feels when he
comes into a strange country.  How stupid he
had been, he thought, always to be riding up
and down the river-road.  It was a shady forest-lane:
little brooks winding down the hills and
ledges made a pleasant sound, and sometimes
a swollen stream ran directly across the road.
The pony, as well as Rick, liked to go
splashing through the water.

After riding about a mile through the woods,
a narrow path diverged from the lane.  The
lane itself had been a gradual ascent, but this
path evidently led up a much steeper hill.  Rick
wondered very much where this narrower path
would lead: he was inclined to think it was the
way to some castle.  In that castle, perhaps
there was another boy.  There were no children
living near the Lordelle castle, except the
children of the servants and peasants.

No sooner did it enter Rick's mind that he
might find a playmate by following the smaller
path, than he turned his pony out of the lane,
thinking he would come back and follow that
at some other day.

The new path wound upwards constantly;
but, as it was seldom very steep, neither Rick
nor the pony minded that.  It was a very
pleasant path; and after Rick had given up the hope
that it led to a castle, he was so curious to
know where it ended, that he still kept on.

After a while this path branched off, by several
other paths, still narrower,—one of them to
the left, one to the right, and another between
these two, but yet not in a direct line to the
main path.

Rick concluded to go a little way on one
path, and then come back and go a little way
on the others, so as to get an idea of each.
Accordingly, he took the middle path.  But he
had scarcely entered this path, before it divided
into two other paths.  As one of these was
wider than the other, he took that.  After
riding on a little way, Rick and the pony came
suddenly out into an open level space.

This space was a clearing, where many noble
trees had been felled, and which was surrounded
by a majestic wall of beautiful pines still
standing.  It was a circular opening, and Rick took
it into his head that it would be fun to ride
around the edge of it, as he had seen men ride
around the mile circle at a horse-race.

Skip was as tired as Rick was of going up hill
all the time; and she at once pricked up her
ears, and started off, jumping over the stumps,
and frisking generally.

Whether Rick went around the circle of the
clearing more than once or not, he was never
certain; for when he looked for the path by
which he had entered, he could not find it, or,
if he found it, he did not recognize it.  There
proved to be a number of small paths leading
into the clearing, and one larger path leading
out of it, down which the timber had evidently
been carried.

After trying in vain to find the path by which
he had entered, Rick, who was by this time
getting a little anxious, concluded to follow the
main path, which would be likely, at any rate,
to take him out of the woods.

To his delight, he found the path led down
hill.  He concluded he was going down the
hill he had come up, at another point, and
should now easily find the road by which he
had entered the woods.

He rode down hill for some time, most of the
way through an open district, which had long
been cleared of trees, and at length came upon
more level land, and another path running at
right angles with that which had led down the
declivity.

Rick was now sadly perplexed.  His head
was so much turned that he had no idea of
the points of compass.  It was impossible for
him to retrace his steps, on account of not
knowing by what path he had entered the first
clearing.

Far ahead of him, to the left, however, there
was smoke curling up above the trees.  At the
right, the path seemed to lead along the edge
of a quarry and to end there.

Turning to the left, Rick rode along until
the road ended in a clump of low woods.  There
was nothing to be done but to follow the direction
in which he had seen the smoke rise.  But,
now he had entered the woods, he could no
longer see the smoke; and, worse still, the
underbrush was so thick, and the ground so
swampy, that Skip could not make her way, but
soon became entangled in the thicket, the bog,
and the brambles.

To add to Rick's troubles, it was getting late
in the afternoon, the sun had become clouded
over, and there were signs of rain.  His only
hope was to get to the place where the smoke
came from, and inquire his way.  With a heavy
heart, he dismounted, and after leading Skip
into a clearer place, near the entrance to the
wood, hugged her around the neck, told her he
would be back by and by, and started out on
foot, in the direction in which he had seen the
smoke as nearly as he could judge of it.

As he disappeared, he heard Skip neighing
after him, and he felt very lonely and
downhearted indeed.

He pushed his way through the briers and
underbrush, sometimes sinking into the mud,
and sometimes going splash into the water,
without coming to any signs of a habitation, or
any thing which could have caused the smoke.
Finally, he was not sure that he was going in
the direction of the smoke at all, as the trees
hid it from his sight, and he resolved to return
to Skip: perhaps, by trying again, they could
find their way home, either by the paths they
had come, or some other.

But now that he was resolved to go back to
Skip, Rick was not sure of that direction either;
and he had gone so far that he could not possibly
hear the faithful creature neigh for his return.

Brave as the boy was, this dilemma, together
with weariness, overcame him so much, that he
sat down upon a rock and began to cry:
perhaps he could never find his way out of this
miry, tangled wood, and would die there alone.
He thought of the babes in the wood, and that
they were better off than he, since they could
share each other's woes.  If only Skip were
with him!  "Oh, dear!" he said, "if some one
would only come and find me!"

"You have your wish, and what now?" said
a rather cracked and sharp voice.

Rick took his hand from his eyes, and
looked up.  Directly in front of him was a
thin, oldish woman, with gray hair, and very
black eyes, dressed in what seemed to Rick
a yellow satin skirt, richly embroidered, a
red satin waist, and a sort of red turban.
She was a very bright object in the dusky woods.

At another time Rick would have been frightened
at such an apparition, alone in the woods;
but, under the circumstances, he was more
relieved than frightened at hearing a voice, and
seeing what at first appeared to him to be a
human form.

"You have your wish," she repeated, "and
what now?"

"I want you to tell me how I can find my
way home."

"The idea!  Was Rick Lordelle ever willing
to do any thing he was told to do, before he got
into this scrape?  Since you would never take
good advice until this day, Master Rick, you
may now do the best you can without it.  Has
not Nanette told you about the fairies in the
woods?"

"Yes," said Rick, so frightened that he was
hardly able to speak the word.

"You see one now, and little comfort will
you get from her.  Fairies have better business
than helping headstrong young gentlemen out
of their scrapes.  I know very well that you
never told your mother and Nanette that you
were going wandering about in the woods, and
a pretty fright they are in now!  So help
yourself, if you can!"

"But I don't know which way to go to get
home," sobbed Rick.

"You'd better start off somewhere in a hurry,
if you don't want to spend the night in these
woods.  Boys that have their own way must
go by their own way, and suffer the consequences.
So get up, and make your way across
the mountains the best way you can; for you've
gone up one hill, and come down another."

"I thought I came down the same side I
went up."

"And so you would go and travel off in this
direction, and leave the castle farther and farther
behind, you?  A fine fellow to have your own
way!  Come with me, and I will show you the
mountain that lies between you and the castle;
for I would have a boy of your stamp out of
my woods as soon as possible.  Nanette has
told you, many a time, that fairies have no
liking for folks who are no better disposed than
you are.  Come along, in a hurry, and stop
your babyish crying!  If Nanette and your
mother could see their fine young gentleman now!"

Rick followed the fairy, sobbing more quietly
to himself, until she brought him out of the
woods, into a green open space with a brook
flowing through it.  Just before them was a
mountain, sharply defined against the sky.

"Across that mountain you must go; and
now let the young gentleman who likes his own
way so well, take it as he chooses," said the
austere fairy.

"Thank you," replied Rick, with more politeness
than he had ever exercised before; and
he started across the meadow, beyond which
there was another wood at the foot of the
mountain.

"How shall I get across the brook?" he asked,
stopping suddenly, but not daring to look around
at his stern guide.

"Go to the brook first: you cannot cross it
until you get to it.  When you reach it, a bridge
will grow across it."

"And I cannot see any path in the woods,
across the meadow, at the foot of the mountain."

"If no path opens before you in those woods,
my fine young gentleman, say that the fairies
have bewitched it."

Rick dared ask no more questions, and so he
walked on towards the brook.  When he reached
it, sure enough, there was a foot-path across it,
which looked like soft green moss, but was
formed by an old tree-trunk overgrown with
lichens.  Rick ventured upon it very cautiously,
but he found it firm; and, when he came to the
woods, quite a broad path opened directly before him.

As he entered the path, he ventured to look
back.  The bridge over the brook had disappeared,
but there stood the fairy, where he had
left her; and, as he looked back, she called out
with a laugh,—

"Ten to one, you'll come across the old man
of the mountains with a big whip in his hand;
but tell him that Zenia is near, and he will not
touch a hair of your head."

Rick was now in great distress.  The stern
fairy was behind him, and, possibly, a man of
the mountains before him.  The best he could
do, however, was to keep on towards the castle.
Fearful as he was, he was consoled to find the
path opening steadily before him up the
mountain.  It at length led him out upon a rocky
spur, and here a narrow foot-path began to trace
a winding line up and around ragged precipices.
Without this path, he could never have made
his way among the many ledges about him.

After toiling up this rocky ascent, very
fearful regarding "the old man of the mountains,"
and hoping he would be away from home that
afternoon, Rick at length stood upon the summit,
and, still following the little winding path
that seemed to creep along just before his feet,
came suddenly upon the brink of a great
precipice.  Down, down, hundreds of feet below
him, lay the river-road, and, yes, the castle
itself: he could see its tower and ivied sides.
And here was he on a rocky height that went
sheer down a dizzy wall of ragged bowlders and
ledges, to rough, rocky hills below.

Just as a dreadful conviction came upon him
that he should never see his mother and Nanette
again, but should die in sight of his home, a
great figure arose close before him over the
brink of the precipice.  Two brilliant circles
surrounded the giant form, and a yellow halo
encircled his head.  Bright-colored rays shot out
from the figure on all sides.  In his hand, the
strange, airy giant held a long, shining whip;
and he was moving towards Rick in an ominous manner.

The poor boy was so terrified, that, although
he tried to shout, he only began to sob frantically.

"Ho! ho!" said the man of the mountains, "Ho! ho!"

"Zenia is near!" Rick tried to say, but it
was hardly more than a faint, wild shriek.

As soon as he spoke those words, however,
the giant began to look less brilliant, and the
figure itself to grow less distinct and farther
away, until it disappeared, leaving the clear air,
the sky, and the valley below, just as they had
been before.

When the giant had disappeared, a voice behind
Rick said,—

"I thought he would appear to you.  Do you
know what it means to see the old man of the
mountains, with that long stick in his hand?"

Rick recognized the sharp voice, and, turning
around, saw the fairy seated upon a low crag
behind him, fanning herself with a bough laden
with green leaves, and flowers just the color of
her skirt.

She repeated the question again, in a louder
voice; for Rick was so frightened and confused
that he made no reply.

"No, ma'am," he faltered.

"Well, I'll tell you what it means, my fine
young gentleman: it means that it is high time
for the person who sees that sight, to make a
change in his ways.  Do you know what change
you had better make in your ways?"

"No, ma'am," responded Rick meekly.

"Perhaps you don't know what you're coming
to, my fine young gentleman.  You're coming
to be an ignorant man, more ignorant than
many a peasant's son, as ignorant as a gypsy.
And it's a bad man you're going to make,—a
spendthrift, a drunkard, a sluggard, a ne'er do
well, a villain, like enough.  No one will respect
you, no one trust you, no one love you, except
your father and mother and Nanette, whose
hearts you have crushed, and whose names you
have disgraced."

Although Rick did not understand all the
words she used, his imagination pictured even
a worse prophecy, if possible, than their true
meaning.  He felt as if his future was
pronounced, and was a terrible doom, which also
involved his parents and Nanette in disgrace
and ruin.

He fell upon his knees, and burst into a fresh
flood of tears.  Though he tried to speak, and
beg the fairy to take back the dreadful words,
he was so frightened and grief-stricken that he
could utter nothing but convulsive sobs.

"What is the matter?" asked the fairy.

"Oh! oh!" sobbed Rick.  "Don't let it
happen to me!  don't let it happen to my father
and mother and Nanette!"

"How can I help it, silly boy?  No one can
help it but yourself.  You might prevent it, if
you would, but there is no use in supposing you
ever will: you would rather have your own way,
and go to destruction, than cross your own
wishes, and come to a good end.  I could tell
you how you could change your fortune, and,
instead of all this, grow up a good and noble
man, of whom your father and mother would
be proud.  But to do that, you would have to
change your present course entirely; and that
you would not do."

"Oh, yes, I will!  I will!" cried Rick eagerly.
"Tell me how I can change my fortune!"

"Very well, I can tell you, although it will
be only a waste of words.  But you sha'n't
have it to say it wasn't told you, and so you
will have no one to blame but yourself, for
going to destruction.  There's Herr Schuler,
in the village, who has taught many a peasant's
son more than you are ever likely to know, and
taught many a gentleman's son besides; so
that it's been well said that the boy who has
begun to learn under Herr Schuler never can
grow up a dunce.  If you will give up your
play and nonsense from morning to night, and
your lazy, lounging ways, and go over to Herr
Schuler's, to learn to read, write, and cipher, to
talk like a well-educated young gentleman, and
to get a dressing with his long whip once in
a while, to mend your ways and your manners,
there'll be a chance for you yet."

"I'll go to-morrow!" cried Rick joyfully.

"A likely story, that!  If I show you your
way home, when you get there, safe and sound,
that'll be the last you'll think of Zenia, and the
good advice she gave you."

"No! no!" cried Rick.  "I truly will go to
Herr Schuler and learn!"

"If there's man enough in you to keep to
that mind, my young gentleman, what will your
lady-mother say to your going to Herr Schuler
to learn?  She'll say it's not the place for a
fine gentleman's son like you."

"I sha'n't care what she says," replied Rick,
conscious that he could have his own way with
his mother.  "I shall certainly go, let my mother
say what she will."

The fairy laughed, and began to look upon
Rick rather more graciously.

"It's not a likely story.  But it's a good turn
you'll do your mother and yourself, if you do
as you say.  And mind you, you'll need the
long stick, and don't you be afraid of it: there'll
be a power of good in every stroke; it'll help to
make a man of you, and it'll be the best
medicine that ever you had.  But one thing's sure:
if you tell your mother and Nanette, or any one
else, of your meeting me in this wood, and
receiving this advice from me, there'll be an end
of your changing your fortune.  Tell no one a
word, but get your own way, and go to Herr
Schuler to-morrow.  Tell him you're coming
every day, to take lessons, as long as you stay
at the castle."

"I'll do it!" cried Rick, "I'll do it!—and if
I do, the bad things won't come to pass, will they?"

"Never a one of them, my lad, never a one
of them; but if you don't keep your promise,
mind you, they'll every one of them come true,
you may depend upon it.  Get up now, and go
ahead of me.  I'll show you how paths will
open before you that you'd never have found
without Zenia behind you.  And with Herr
Schuler behind you, there'll open a way that it
will pay you well to walk in.  So, go ahead, my laddie!"

Rick was very much comforted and re-assured
by the pleasanter tone of Zenia's voice, as well
as by the prospect of avoiding the awful future
she had described, under the guidance of Herr
Schuler; and he went on before her with a
springing step.  He wanted to look behind
very much, now and then, but was afraid to do
so: neither did he dare address her, but he
followed her directions very obediently and promptly.

Her first direction was to go to the left.
Now, at the left, there was apparently nothing
but a thick growth of briers and bushes.  But
he had no sooner reached this thicket, in the
way indicated, than a narrow but distinct path
opened before him, which wound down the hill
by the side of a little rivulet.

At the bottom of the hill, there was a swamp,
in which Rick sank at every step, until the
fairy said,—

"Let me go before you, and follow in my
footsteps."

So Zenia took the lead; and, to Rick's
surprise, he found that, by following directly in
her steps, he had a perfectly firm footing in the
midst of the swamp.

On the other side of the swamp rose another
line of high hills, and it made Rick's tired
limbs ache harder to think of having to climb
over them.

But as they approached these hills, the two
directly in front of them appeared to move
apart, disclosing a very good, grassy road.

The fairy followed Rick along the winding
road between the mountains, singing to herself
in a low, monotonous tone, and not deigning
to speak to Rick until they came out into a
meadow, whose farther end seemed to rest
against the sky.  But to Rick's surprise, they
had gone only a little way before they stood
upon the verge of a hill, and below him Rick
saw the familiar river-road again, lying, a white,
winding streak, as far as he could see on either
hand, and, not far to the right, half hidden by
the trees, was the castle, its windows burning
with the sunset glow shining beneath a mass of
clouds that had just lifted from the horizon.

Rick's heart leaped with joy and thankfulness.
Never before had his mother and Nanette
and the castle seemed so dear.

"Hurry home now, as fast as you please;
but don't forget all that Zenia has told you,"
said the fairy.

Rick ran down over the long, slanting fields
of the descent before him as fast as he could
go.  He had turned to thank the fairy for her
kindness; but she had suddenly disappeared,
leaving him alone upon the brow of the hill.

His mother and Nanette had grown so anxious
about him, that they had sent Peter, the
groom, off on horseback to look for him.  They
were astonished enough to see Rick coming
into the yard on foot, with torn and soiled
garments.  But as soon as they found he was
sound and well, although exhausted by fatigue
and excitement, Nanette said,—

"What has become of Skip?"

Rick had been so frightened, and so taken
up with his strange situation and the fairy's
presence, that he had, until that moment,
forgotten all about poor Skip.

He burst into tears, and was about to tell his
mother and Nanette all of his adventures, when
he remembered the fairy's caution, and the
awful fate which awaited him if he should
disclose his meeting with her.  So he only
explained that he had got lost, and had to leave
Skip in some woods of whose situation he was
ignorant, and that he had come home on foot
through strange and curious ways.

"Poor boy!" said his mother, kissing him
fondly, and feeling glad to see him appear so
singularly gentle and downcast, although she
was very sorry for him.  "He is crying because
he is so sorry about Skip.  When Peter comes
home, we will send him off at once to get Skip."

But it was in vain that Peter, following
Rick's directions as far as the bewildered boy
could give any, searched the woods for the
pony.  Long after dark, he came home without
having seen a trace of her.

The next morning, Skip was found tied just
outside the castle-gate; and no one about the
castle could tell how she came there, unless it
was Rick, who was certain, in his own mind,
that it was Zenia's doings.

Before the dew was off the grass, Rick
mounted the pony.

"Now, my love," said his mother, "do not
ride far this morning, for fear you will get lost
again in these wild woods.  Keep to the main
road, or I shall never dare to trust you away
from the castle again without Peter behind you."

"I shall never go into the woods again,"
said Rick, in a tone of decision, which quite
re-assured his mother.  "I am going over to
Herr Schuler's, to get him to teach me to read
and write and cipher, and to train me with his
long stick."

His mother could not believe her ears; and,
while she was collecting her wits, Rick rode
away, not in his usual gay manner, but looking
as serious as a judge.

When he came to Herr Schuler's house, he
dismounted, and knocked at the door.

Herr Schuler himself appeared.

"Ah, my little man!" said he, "what can I
do for you?"

"I want you to teach me," said Rick.

"Indeed!  Did your mother send you to me?"

"No, sir: I have come because I wanted to."

"Are not you the boy who dislikes schools
and teachers so much?"

"I was that boy; but I am a boy now who
wants to learn, and no one can teach me but you."

"I must go over and see your mother, then,
and find out about it," replied Herr Schuler,
who was much perplexed.

"But I want to commence this morning, and
have brought the books that my mother and
Nanette tried to make me study in."

Hereupon Rick ran and took off a little
satchel which he had hung upon his saddle.

"This looks like business," said Herr
Schuler.  "If you keep on as you have begun, it
will not take long to make a scholar of you."

He took Rick in, set him down at a little
table, and gave him an easy lesson to learn, in
spelling.  It was soon learned, and then
followed one column of the multiplication table.
After that, Rick wrote the words of a copy
over half a dozen times, very carefully.  Then
he read a short story aloud.  Herr Schuler said
that was enough for once; and Rick went home
feeling very proud and happy, to tell his mother
and Nanette what Herr Schuler said,—that
there was now no reason why he should not
become as good a scholar as any in the whole
country.

His mother and Nanette praised and encouraged
him; but they said behind his back, that
this new freak would not continue long.  They
were greatly mistaken.  Day after day Rick
went to Herr Schuler's, and learned his lessons
faithfully: more than that, he seemed to enjoy
them as much as he had previously enjoyed his
idleness.  One reason of this was, that Herr
Schuler had a way of making lessons so
interesting that they seemed like play, and he did
not give too long tasks.

After Rick had been to school about a fortnight,
he lingered after he had been dismissed.

"Do you want to speak with me, Rick?"
asked Herr Schuler.

"I only want to ask you," replied Rick,
"when you are going to use your long stick
upon me?"

"What!" exclaimed Herr Schuler, in great
glee, thinking Rick was joking.  "You don't
want a whipping, do you?"

"Yes, I do!" replied Rick soberly and emphatically.

"You don't mean it!" exclaimed Herr
Schuler, in amazement.

"Why not?" replied Rick.  "I never shall
make a man, if you don't whip me some; and I
want you to begin right off."

It was with much difficulty that Herr Schuler
restrained his smiles.  "Well, well, Rick!
if you are really willing"—

"Willing!" interrupted Rick, "I am in a
great hurry."

"Very well: perhaps there are some things
that you will learn better by the use of my long
stick, than you will from books or lectures; so
look out for a whipping soon."

Rick hurried home in high spirits, to tell his
mother and Nanette that he was getting on so
well that Herr Schuler was going to begin
switching him with his long stick, to teach him
some things that he could not learn out of books.

"My dear child!" exclaimed his mother.
"It is because you have never known what a
whipping is, that you are in such glee.  What
have you been doing to displease Herr Schuler?
Tell me at once.  I will go directly and
ask him to pardon you and spare his rod."

"No, no!" cried Rick excitedly.  "If you do,
I will never forgive you!"

"But do you know, my child, that a whipping
hurts?"

"Of course I do!  Don't I switch Skip with
my whip, to make her go faster, and to mind
what I tell her?  And haven't I switched myself
with it, too, for fun?  And haven't I seen
boys whipped ever so many times, and crying
and dancing about?  But I shall neither dance
nor cry, because I shall like it."

"What a strange boy!" said his mother,
laughing.  "But I will trust Herr Schuler not
to do my boy any injury, and we will see if you
like the rod so well after you have felt it."

The next day, when Rick made his appearance,
Herr Schuler said,—

"This is the third or fourth time you have
been late, my boy.  One of the worst of faults
is to be habitually late.  Suppose we apply a
little birch, to strengthen your memory of this
fact?"

So Herr Schuler went to a little closet in
one corner of the room, and took down a long,
smooth birch switch, from a nail upon which it
was hanging.

Rick's eyes glistened with anticipation, and
he began to pull off his jacket.

"Oh! you needn't take off your jacket," said
Herr Schuler.

"Yes," answered Rick: "that's the way Peter
makes his boy do, when he whips him."

Herr Schuler whizzed the rod through the
air with a great flourish and noise, but brought
it down as lightly as possible upon Rick's back.

"You are only making believe!" exclaimed
Rick, with a sort of indignation at the sham.
"Such a whipping as that will never make a
man of me."

Upon this, Herr Schuler laid on with a will,
determined to give Rick so much of the stick
that he would never again plead for a whipping.
But the little hero never winced.

"Will that do?" asked the master at last, in
almost a tone of entreaty.

"Perhaps it will do for this time," replied
Rick; "but it's no more than a respectable
whipping.  Now I'm ready for my lessons, and
I'll try never to be late again."

"Bravo!" cried Herr Schuler: "at this rate,
I will soon put you in a way to become such a
man as your country will be proud of."

But Herr Schuler's resolution failed him.
Although he had whipped many a rough and
heedless scholar into better manners by his
long stick, his kind heart and his just soul
recoiled from the thought of punishing so steady
and earnest a boy as Rick had become, for trivial
faults of which the boy himself was unconscious.
It was Rick himself who next referred
to the rod.

"It is two weeks since I have had a birch
lesson," he said.

"Ah! h'm!" replied Herr Schuler, getting
up and going to the closet very reluctantly.
"So you want another birch lesson, so soon?"

He took down the stick, and then resumed
his seat in front of Rick.

"What was that you were telling little Jean
Pettis, when you first came this morning?  Did
you not say that you had seen an elephant as
high as my barn, and that you rode upon his
back with about a hundred other children?"

"Well, he was a very large elephant."

"Was he as high as my barn?"

"Why, he was almost as high, I think."

"Look out of the window at the barn, and
tell me, truly as you can, about how high you
really think the elephant would reach."

Rick looked out, and, after a careful examination,
said, with rather an ashamed look, that
he thought he would reach about to the top of
the barn-door.

"Very good," said Herr Schuler; "and now
think, and tell me truly, about how many
children you really suppose there were on the
elephant's back."

After thinking a while, Rick said, with a deep
blush, that he was not sure that there were
more than twenty-five.

"Very well," said Herr Schuler: "if you go
on at this rate, do you expect to grow up a
reliable man, whose word can be depended
upon?  Take off your jacket!"

"There!" he continued, after he had given
Rick a number of sharp blows, "will that make
you remember to be more truthful in your statements?"

"I guess it will help," replied Rick; "but if
I find myself talking so carelessly again, I will
tell you, and take another whipping to help my
memory."

He was as good as his word: he came to
Herr Schuler several times after that, with the
information that he had not told the exact truth,
and took a whipping for it.

Only once, however, did Herr Schuler whip
him with a right good will of his own; and that
was after he had paid a visit at the castle, and
heard Rick, several times, speak disrespectfully
to his mother.

For instance, when his mother said she
thought she should have a branch cut from one
of the trees near the castle, because it shaded
Rick's window too much, Rick said,—

"A branch!  I guess I'll have that whole
tree down, or nothing; it's only a bother,
anyway; it not only darkens the window, but it
spoils the view out of the window.  I'll have
the tree cut down to the ground!"

Herr Schuler was so polite a man that he
appeared to take no notice of Rick's independent
remarks; but the next day, he said to him,—

"If you want a good whipping now, young
man, you can have it, and I can put it on with
a good will."

"All right," replied Rick very cheerfully:
"what is it for?"

Herr Schuler then told him how sorry he had
been to find that he was in the habit of speaking
disrespectfully to his mother, and to other
elders at home.

"Why, I didn't know there was any harm
in that," replied Rick, in unfeigned surprise.
Thereupon Herr Schuler gave him a very
decided little lecture upon the danger of
growing up without habits of respect and
politeness for others in word and action.  At the
end of the lecture, he gave Rick so smart a
whipping, that he was fully satisfied for that time.

By the end of the summer, Rick had made
such progress, that his father, who had been
away from home for several months on important
business, was completely astonished at the
change in his son, when he came to take his
family back to the city.

One of the best changes in Rick was the
improvement in his manners.  Herr Schuler's
little lectures, and the way in which Rick had
insisted upon having them impressed upon his
mind with the long stick, according to the hints
given by the fairy, had worked a complete
transformation: he had, even in this short time,
become a very gentlemanly boy, careful to do
right for the sake of doing right, and thoughtful
of others' comfort.

During the following winter, he made great
progress at the grand school at the capital, to
which he was recommended by Herr Schuler;
and the carefulness, both in lessons and
deportment, which he had already learned, helped
him even more than his natural brightness.  He
was so conscious of this himself, that, whenever
he was asked how he came to be so good a
scholar, and why he was always so polite and
thoughtful, he answered,—

"Herr Schuler taught me how to study and
to be mannerly."

As his mother's health was poor, the next
summer, it was decided that she should go to
the seaside instead of the castle; and Rick spent
the summer there with her and Nanette, and
was a great comfort to them.

The following summer, however, his mother's
health being fully restored, they went back to
the castle; and, soon after their arrival, Herr
Schuler was invited to pay them a visit with
his wife and daughter.

Rick had now become a tall, manly youth,
and would have smiled incredulously at one of
Nanette's fairy-stories.  He knew that there
were not, and never had been, any fairies; but
he had, for a good while, been greatly perplexed
about the woman in red and yellow whom he
met in the forest, and who had so cunningly
induced him to go to school to Herr Schuler.

In the evening, he said that, if they liked,
he would tell them a curious story, which,
although it would convince his mother and
Nanette and Herr Schuler that he had been no
such wonderful boy as they had thought him,
was well worth hearing.

He then told them all about his losing his
way among the mountains; his meeting with
the woman in red and yellow clothing, whom
he had believed to be a fairy; the wonderful
appearance of the bright and airy giant who
had advanced towards him with a whip in his
hand, saying, "Ho! ho! ho! ho!" the supposed
fairy's terrible warnings and good advice,
and how singularly the way out of the
mountains had opened before him.

Herr Schuler laughed loud and long.

"So that was the secret of your wonderful
docility!" he exclaimed.  "As for the giant
figure, it was nothing but the mirage which is
frequently seen in these mountains: it was a
magnified reflection of Rick Lordelle upon the
vapor in front of him."

"But how came the figure to have a long
whip in his hand?" inquired Rick.

"You must have had a stick in your own hand."

"Oh, yes!  I carried my riding-whip in my
left hand, and the giant appeared to have a
whip in his right hand.  But how came the
giant to say 'Ho! ho! ho! ho!'?"

"It was, without doubt, the echo of your
sobs, from the ledge near you."

"And as for the fairy," said Herr Schiller's
daughter, "she was one of the band of gypsies
who passed through here about that time; and
the smoke you saw in the woods, came from
their camp.  I remember this woman very well.
I saw her the day before you met her, and she
had that yellow satin skirt and red waist in a
bundle of old clothes she carried: I gave her
the old red silk handkerchief myself, for one of
her baskets; and she opened the bundle, to put
it in with the rest of the clothes."

"And I saw her too!" exclaimed Rick's
mother.  "She was here at the castle, and
begged me to give her some old clothes in
exchange for some of her pretty baskets.  She
showed me an old embroidered yellow satin
skirt, which a lady had given her, and asked
me if I could give her a waist to go with it.
Knowing how much the gypsies like bright
colors, I gave her an old red satin waist, which
pleased her greatly."

"Oh, yes!" said Rick; "and now I remember
her myself.  When I first saw her, she was
dressed in an old faded calico: she was about
the castle some time, and finally went out of
the yard carrying her bundle of old clothes
with her.  I scarcely looked at her at the time,
she appeared to be so uninteresting.  Nanette
was having great trouble with me that
morning, trying to get me to read a lesson; and I
told her, that, if she did not stop her noise, or
tell me a fairy-story, I would slap her in the
face, to which she replied, 'Rick Lordelle, you
will surely grow up a disgrace to every one
who belongs to you!'  I remember this
distinctly; because, after Zenia foretold what
would happen to me if I kept on in my ways,
I recollected Nanette had said something like
that to me, when she was so vexed with me in
the morning."

"As for the paths opening, that is plain
enough," added Herr Schuler.  "These little
woodland paths seldom appear until you are
close to them, and the road that opened
between the mountains was in one of those
narrow defiles which are quite invisible in the
distance.  Across that marshy district, there
are a great many moss-grown stones, which
serve for footing, if any one can tell them from
the rest of the bog."

"It does not make any difference now,"
said Rick, "that Zenia turns out to be only a
gypsy; for her warnings were just as true, and
her advice just as good, as a real fairy's could
have been: but I should not have thought so
two years ago, and so I am very glad that I
took her for one of Nanette's fairies."

.. vspace:: 2

After Pierre had finished reading, they all
expressed themselves as much pleased with the
story: Johnny was especially enthusiastic.

"I thought you didn't like fairy-stories,
Johnny," said Sue.

"I never did like one very much before:
but, you see, this fairy didn't turn out to be
a fairy after all, and every thing she said
was true, and really came to pass, so far as
the person reading the story can know; and
then, there is a good deal of sense in it from
beginning to end; and that's the kind of story
I like."

"It's just as good as a fairy-story, I think,"
said Felix; "because you suppose there is a
fairy in it, until the very end, and then when
you find it was a gypsy, you like the old
gypsy just as well as you would a fairy.  The
worst of it is, I think it is a very long story for
me to learn to read well very soon; and so I'm
afraid it will be a good while before I get to
Boston."

"I don't think it will take you long to learn
to read it well, if you pay good attention to my
directions," replied Pierre; "and if you want to
get on faster at any time, you have only to give
more time to the practice."





.. vspace:: 4

.. _`AT THE COTTAGE`:

.. class:: center large bold

   CHAPTER VIII.


.. class:: center medium bold

   AT THE COTTAGE.

.. vspace:: 2

Johnny found plenty of time for undisturbed
possession of the sky-room, for Felix
was always off on his bicycle in the morning on
pleasant days; so that, when Johnny preferred
to stay at home, he was sure of the time until
noon to himself.  When he could not persuade
"Prof." to accompany him, Felix generally
found Harrison Brown quite ready; and since
Harrison was a pleasant, well-disposed boy,
Mr. Le Bras had given Felix permission to go with
him at any time in the morning.  As bicycle-riding
was vetoed for the afternoon, Felix had
various expedients for amusement during that
portion of the day, among which were lawn-tennis
at a neighbor's, base-ball with some boys
on the park towards evening, and other outdoor
recreations.  In fact, he was in the house
so seldom that Johnny experienced very little
inconvenience after the first terror at his coming
had subsided.  And Felix had never behaved
well for so many days in his life before, as
since his residence with his uncle: his parents
would have been greatly pleased and astonished
at his unusual affability and tractableness, which
were simply the result of the firm, orderly
government under which he found himself placed.

Felix had read to Pierre every morning for
two weeks, and at the end of that time
accompanied his uncle to Boston, the latter having
expressed himself satisfied with the test-reading.
Johnny had accompanied them, and, as
he was quite familiar with Boston, had shown
his cousin the principal sights while his father
was transacting the business on which he had
come.  As soon as Mr. Le Bras was at liberty,
he took the boys down the harbor, to Nantasket
Beach, after which they returned home.

Felix had made so much improvement, during
the two weeks, in reading, that he was now
quite ready to take part in the evening readings;
and this practice, with the standing instructions
Pierre had given him, caused him to
make constant improvement.

The morning lessons in the fairy-story had
been given by Pierre in his own room, which
was the spare chamber.  The lesson always
began by Pierre's reading the portion of the story
he wished Felix to read, while Felix listened
to him, with the purpose of imitating him as
nearly as possible when his turn came.  As
Pierre was a good elocutionist, he read very
finely, changing his voice admirably; so that,
by the second or third lesson, Felix had nearly
given up the monotone which had helped to
make his own reading so painful to hear.  By
being made to read over any words that sounded
indistinct, Felix soon overcame the defects
of his enunciation.  Pierre made him spell, by
dividing into syllables, all the words he could
not pronounce.  This discipline was kept up
also during the evening readings, for Felix's
benefit.  Of course, the drill rather detracted
from the interest of what Felix read; but no
one was inclined to complain, except Sue, who
had been strictly charged to exhibit no
impatience, or say any thing that could discourage
Felix or hurt his feelings.  He was certainly
making a braver attempt to overcome his
deficiencies than any one could have expected of
him, and his aunt was certain that the example
of Rick in the story helped him not a little.  "I
think," said Sue one day, "that Rick Lordelle
was exactly like Felix in every way,—anyhow,
as Felix used to be, whenever we went to see
him in New York; though I think he's an ever
so much better boy now; and I like him first-rate,
when he isn't too rough, and don't get to
teasing me awful bad."

By the last of July, Mr. Le Bras was able to
leave his business for a while, and accompany
the family to his brother's seaside cottage.
They started off one pleasant morning, with
trunks and valises, a very merry company.
Mr. Le Bras himself was almost as light-hearted
as a boy at getting away from his office:
and Pierre, who was a great lover of the
sea, by which he had lived when he was a little
boy, was full of anticipations of fishing and
hunting excursions; he carried his gun in his
hand, and had a fishing basket and tackle in his
trunk.  As for Johnny, Felix, and Sue, of
course they were exceedingly happy: Felix and
Sue chattered incessantly.

It was a four hours' journey, with one change
of cars.  They reached the village nearest the
cottage about noon, and found Oliver waiting
for them with the carriage.  As they were
getting out of the cars, an enormous dog jumped
upon Felix, barking loudly, and then began to
bound about him and the rest of the party with
every demonstration of joy possible.

"Why, Clyde!" exclaimed Felix.  "Yes, it is
Clyde!  Of course it is!  But how did he ever
come here?  Where did you find him, Oliver?"

"He jumped off the cars one day, and came
right over to the cottage," replied Oliver, with
a smiling side-glance at Mr. Le Bras.

"Well, now! if that wasn't knowing of him!"
said Felix.  "But I wonder how he knew which
train to take, and how the conductor came to
let him stay on, and how he happened to know
just what station to get off at?"

"But you've always heard tell, Felix, that
dogs are mighty knowin' creatures," returned
Oliver, smiling from ear to ear.

"But they're not quite so knowing as that,
after all," said Johnny: "there's some other
explanation, if we could only find out."

"I'll tell you just how it was, boys," said
Mr. Le Bras, as soon as they were all stowed in the
roomy two-horse carriage, and Oliver had started
off, with Clyde following behind, wagging his
tail joyously.  "I think I must confess, now"—

"Oh! you did it, did you?" interrupted Sue.
"Before I'd have thought"—

"Hush, Sue!" said her mother: "you must
not interrupt papa."

"Well, the long and short of it is, Felix,
that it was unpleasant for us to have such a
great, warm-hearted dog as Clyde rushing into
a city-house, with his feet dusty or muddy, and
jumping up on our clothes, and on the furniture,
to say nothing of his tracks on the carpets; and
so I concluded, after a little observation of his
mischief, to send him down to the cottage.  But
as I didn't know you as well as I do now, and
wrongly supposed, you might be vexed with me,
and not get over it very easily, if I told you
Clyde must be banished from the city, I took
him down to my office one morning, wrote a
note to Oliver, which I tied to his collar, and
then accompanied him to the depot, and put
him in charge of the conductor, who agreed to
hand him over to the conductor of the other
road, with instructions to put him off at this
station, where I was certain, if he did not find
his way to the cottage himself, some one would
carry him there; since I knew Oliver would be
well known all about here."

"So that's the trick you played on me!"
replied Felix, looking at his uncle with more of
an expression of admiration than indignation.
"You're a pretty fellow, ain't you?  Now, I'll bet
I'll play you as good a trick as that before you go
home!"

"But I thought conductors would not allow
dogs on board the cars," said Johnny.

"The conductor said he would have him tied
up in the baggage-car; but I didn't stop to see
what disposal he made of him, beyond the fact
that he gave him in charge to one of the
baggage-men, who said he would see that it was
all right.  I offered either to buy Clyde a half
ticket, or pay his way as freight; but the
conductor, who is a friend of mine, said it was
unnecessary, and that the other conductor would
be glad to oblige him.  So Clyde came as a
deadhead."

"I'm mighty glad he wasn't lost," said Felix,
"and that I didn't spend any of my money
advertising him.  I don't care so much for the
money; but you see, if I'd advertised him, I
should have been all the more fooled.  I didn't
know how to get along without Clyde down here
by the water, and I was going to remind you of
your promise that I should have another dog, if
he didn't turn up before we came to the cottage;
but we were all in such a hurry and excitement
this morning, that I forgot all about it."

After passing through the village, they came
upon a very hard, handsome road perfectly white.

"What makes this road so white?" asked Sue.

"It is a shell road," replied Felix: "it has
been covered with clam and oyster shells, and
the carriage-wheels have powdered the shells."

"It is a very handsome road," remarked
Johnny, "and will be fine for our bicycles."

"Capital!" returned Felix; "for it is a very
long road, and even as a floor; it extends two
miles at least, as far as two monstrous cottages
which are the only ones beyond ours, though
ours is a mile this side of them."

The shell road soon led along the beach, and
in front of a row of small but pretty cottages
built quite closely together.  Beyond these
cottages were larger summer residences, placed
much farther apart.  As they drove on, there
were no more houses to be seen.

"Why!  Where is your cottage, Felix?"
asked Johnny.

"Oh! you'll see it in a minute."

They soon came to a sharp turn in the beach,
and just ahead was a handsome house in the
Queen Anne style.

"Oh! what a pretty house!" exclaimed Sue.
"Is that your cottage?"

"No; but ours is just as handsome; I think
ours is painted handsomer."

There was a little strip of woods beyond the
Queen Anne cottage; but when they were past
this obstacle to the view, they came suddenly
upon another cottage, which was really a large
wooden house, built in fancy style, abounding in
odd and pretty windows, balconies, and verandas.

Before Sue had time to ask if this was
the cottage, Oliver entered a driveway at
the right, which led, with a broad sweep, up
to the front-door, and continued around the house.

Oliver's wife met them at the door with,—

"I'm awful glad to see all of you!  It's ben
dreadful lonesome here without the folks, and
nothin' to do to keep one busy."

"You must not suppose, Mary," replied Mrs. Le
Bras, "that you will have all the work to do
for such a company.  Katie will be here to-night:
she could not get away this morning very well."

The interior of the cottage was prettily
furnished with straw mattings, wicker chairs, light
curtains, and other furnishings in style
appropriate for a summer residence: nothing was
lacking to make it as convenient and comfortable
as possible.  Mrs. Le Bras had her trunks
carried to the chamber facing the water, and told
Pierre and the children that they could make a
selection of the other chambers to suit themselves,
if the boys and Sue came to no disagreement
in doing so.  Johnny said he thought Felix
ought to choose first, because it was his father's
cottage; but Felix insisted that Pierre should
have the first choice.  Pierre said he should
like the chamber looking up the road, as that
direction, being free from houses, was where he
should be most likely to see game.  Since that
was the most retired room, Felix seemed to
think it was the worst choice that could be
made; but Pierre said he was perfectly satisfied.

"Felix must choose next," said Johnny,
"because he is the next oldest."

"Then, I'll take the room I had last summer,
which looks down the beach.  To be sure, you
can't see down the beach only a little way, on
account of the grove: but there's a real nice
girl lives in the cottage there; and when she
could play with me, she used to hang a blue
ribbon out of that window in the corner, which
is the only one you can see through the trees.
I sha'n't want to play with her this year,
because I have other company; but I was glad
enough to, last year, for there wasn't a boy or
another girl in any of the other cottages around
here.—And now it's your turn, Johnny."

"I'll take the corner room next to yours,
then, which has one window toward the woods,
and two towards the grounds back of the house,
where there is such a fine huckleberry pasture
in view, with rocks and juniper-trees.  Now for
you, Sue."

"I think I'll take the little room that opens
out of mamma's, because that looks towards
the sea too; and although it isn't as big as
your rooms, if it gets too little for me any
time, I can go right through into mamma's big
room.  There is a real cunning balcony out of
the little room, too, and I can sit out there ever
so much."

"Yes," said Felix: "there is a canopy there;
and, if you draw it up, it will make it cool and
shady in the balcony any time."

"There is the north-west corner room left
for company," said Johnny.

"But where will Katie sleep?" asked Sue.

"There are two splendid rooms up the next
flight, a good deal like your sky-room at home,"
replied Felix: "Oliver and his wife have one of
them, and Katie can have the other.  Come
up, and I'll show it to you."

The verdict was that Katie's room was very
pleasant indeed, and had the best landward
view of any; since you could see through and
over the grove, and down the beach from the
east window, and far beyond the huckleberry
pasture, to a country road in the distance, from
the north windows.  It had a west window also,
looking much farther west than Pierre's room;
so that, if he had not already chosen, he
thought he should have preferred that room.
The boys said, however, that he must not
change; for they wanted him on the same floor
with themselves.  By the time the selection
was made, Mary announced dinner and; they
went down into the cool dining-room, which
looked very inviting, with its neatly set table.

Mr. Le Bras was seated before a platter of
roast lamb, with a smoking dish of potatoes
by its side; while bread, green peas, and other
accompaniments were interspersed at suitable
intervals.

"Mrs. Oliver has treated us very handsomely,"
said Mr. Le Bras; "although we
wrote that she must not put herself out, since
we could very well wait till Kate arrived, and I
had a chance to go marketing."

"Where shall I go to hire a sail-boat,
Felix?" inquired Mr. Le Bras when dinner was
over.

"Hire a boat?  Why, we've got two boats—a
row-boat and a sail-boat—of our own!"

"I remember, now, hearing you say so; but
as I saw no boat around here, I had forgotten
about it.  Where are the boats kept?"

"They are down at the pier usually, when
they are in use.  I'll go and ask Oliver about
them."

Oliver soon came in with Felix, and stated
that the boats were at the pier which they had
noticed just this side of the row of cottages;
they had been in the keeping of a man in the
village who owned a boat-house, and had not
been taken out until Oliver heard Mr. Le Bras
was coming; but, the day before, he had told
the man to bring them to the pier, and he
presumed they would be found there, although he
had forgotten to notice as they came past.
Felix's father was intending to have a little
wharf built out in front of the cottage, but he
had not been able to attend to it yet.

"But the beach comes to an end for a while,
a little above here," continued Oliver; "and
you can run a boat up there, and land by the
rocks, when you don't want to go down as far
as the pier; but the pier is a handier place to
get out and in, if you've got ladies along."

Sue was very anxious then to see the pony
and dog-cart which Felix said she could use.
Oliver told her he would harness the pony
by and by, so that she could drive along the beach.

"But it won't be half so nice to go alone,
and the boys don't care any thing about riding
in a dog-cart."

"I shouldn't at all wonder," said Mary, who
was standing in the kitchen-door, "if Miss
Julia, the young lady who lives in the next
cottage, would like to ride with you: she has
asked to borrow the dog-cart several times
herself, when she's had young friends here, and
she seems to like it very much.  Mr. Le Bras
told her she could take it any time she wanted it."

"I wish some one would ask her," said Sue.
"Won't you, Felix?"

"Yes: if you and Johnny will come and sit
in the front piazza, I'll go and ask her to come
over here and get acquainted."

Accordingly, Johnny and Sue sat down in
the veranda while Felix ran off towards the
cottage.  Pierre was just going up the road
with his gun.

"Don't you want to get back in time for a
sail about four?" asked Mr. Le Bras.  "Oliver,
who, they say, is a good hand with a boat, is
going to take Mrs. Le Bras and myself out
about that time, and we should like to have you
along."

"Which way shall you go?" inquired Pierre, stopping.

"We thought we would go up toward the
cottages above here.  Oliver tells me there is a
good landing there; and, as I have a little
business with a gentleman who lives in one of the
cottages, I thought I would make him a call."

"I am going up that way," replied Pierre;
"and I will be around about the time you
arrive, and come back with you, if you are
willing."

"Certainly," replied Mr. Le Bras, who was
standing in the front-door: "we will be on the
lookout for you."

Presently Felix came back, accompanied by a
pleasant-looking girl of about Johnny's age:
she had golden-brown wavy hair, and eyes that
looked quite blue before she came into the
shade of the piazza, after which they appeared
to be of a grayish color, with a slight suspicion
of brown in them; they were very bright eyes,
that seemed to take in every thing at a glance.

"This is my cousin Johnny, Julia, and this is
Sue," said Felix, as if he thought a very slight
introduction indeed would answer for a little
girl like Sue.  But Sue pieced out her
introduction by saying, "I'm Johnny's sister: but
I sha'n't tell that I'm Felix's cousin, because he
wouldn't say so himself; and I don't much
care, because I've got a good many relations
without him."

Julia laughed heartily at this, and Felix
looked a little nonplussed.

"I'm real glad there are to be so many young
folks here this season," said Julia: "there
wasn't any one here last summer, except Felix,
without I went ever so far to see them.  It
wasn't pleasant at all: I was just as homesick
as I could be.  But now I think we can have
very nice times, unless,"—and she looked
questioningly at Johnny,—"unless Johnny is as
great a tease as Felix is."

"Johnny is not a bit of a tease," said Sue:
"I don't know as he ever tried to tease me in
his life; though I tease him once in a great
while, when I have what he calls one of my
'high times.'"

"He must be a new kind of a boy if he don't
tease," returned Julia: "every boy I ever knew
liked to tease, but Felix is the very worst boy
to plague any one I ever saw."

Felix laughed, and made up a comic face.

"But you liked to play with him last year, or
you wouldn't have hung the blue ribbon out of
the window," replied Sue.

"Now, you go and tell every thing! that's
just like you!" exclaimed Felix, with a look
of vexation.

"He didn't see the blue ribbon very often,"
replied Julia, laughing.  "After he had teased
me real hard, I wouldn't play with him for ever
so long, and that happened pretty often.  I
guess he wouldn't have got on very well if it
hadn't been for a boy who came up from one of
the cottages."

"I wonder if Jack is here this year?" said Felix.

"Yes: I saw him one day down by his cottage,
firing pebble-stones at a little kitten he
had thrown into the water, to keep her from
coming ashore.  I stopped the carriage, and
told him he ought to be ashamed of himself.
Then he let the kitten come ashore; and I got
out, and took up the poor, shivering little thing,
and brought it home.  I saw him a while after,
and he accused me of stealing his kitten; but
I did not pay any attention to him: I didn't
believe a boy had any right to a kitten he
wanted to keep just for the sake of treating it
cruelly.  It's a beautiful little tortoise shell;
and he'll never get it again, if I can help it!"

They had all been talking so fast that Johnny,
who was always careful not to interrupt, and
who never forced himself into notice, had not
said a word, except to bow, and say "Good-morning,"
when he was introduced.

"Why don't you say something, Johnny?"
whispered Sue in his ear, as Felix went on
talking about Jack, saying he was a pretty good
fellow to have a gay time with, and he thought
he should look him up before long.

"I haven't had a good chance," Johnny whispered
back: "I'm waiting for Felix to get through."

"He never will get through," returned Sue:
"when he makes a little pause, you just say
something as quick as ever you can."

"What if I should set Clyde on the kitten?"
said Felix to Julia.

"You'd better not, young man: I'll never
forgive you if you do!"

"Just let me get a sight of her, that's all,"
returned Felix, running off in the direction of
the cottage in which Julia lived, looking back,
and laughing roguishly as he ran.  "Come,
Clyde!" he called back; and Clyde, who was
lying in the piazza, jumped up and followed him.

"I sha'n't please him by running after him,"
said Julia: "but if he does set Clyde on the
kitten, I've a mind not to have any thing to do
with him all summer; he is one of the most
annoying boys I ever saw; I only came over
because I wanted to get acquainted with the
rest of you."

"Felix has been pretty good at our house
this season," replied Johnny, "and I don't
believe he will tease you this year if father finds
it out; for father don't believe in teasing, and
he has charge of Felix this summer."

"Then, you don't tease!" returned Julia,
with a pleased look.  "I am so glad!  I think
I can have some nice times with you and your
sister."

Sue then asked Julia if she would go to ride
in the dog-cart with her.

"Yes, indeed!  I should like to go very
much, any time."

Felix soon came back, saying he could not
find the kitten this time, but he should be on
the lookout for it.

"I should like to stay longer, if Felix had
not begun to tease," said Julia; "but since
he has, I think I will go home:" and she rose,
and began to go down the steps.

"I wish you wouldn't go yet: I haven't more
than half got acquainted," said Sue.

"I'll go home with you, and see if I can find
the kitten," remarked Felix, beginning to walk
down the steps also, and laughing.

"No, you won't!" replied Julia, sitting down
on the steps.  "I declare, Felix Le Bras, I won't
come over here another time, if you are going
to act like this!"

It happened that Mr. Le Bras, who had been
sitting in a balcony over the piazza, had heard
most of the conversation between the children.
He now appeared at the door, and
said, "Is this the young lady who lives near us?"

"Yes," replied Johnny: "she came to make
us a call."

"And Felix is teasing her," said Sue.

"How is that, Felix?" asked Mr. Le Bras,
in a tone of feigned surprise.  "I hope you
would not be so ungentlemanly, and towards
a visitor too!"

"Oh!  I'm only joking with her a little,"
returned Felix.

"Is the joke amusing to you or to her?"

"Why, to me."

"And it is very annoying to me," said Julia.

Mr. Le Bras came out, sat down in a chair
on the piazza, and began to talk with Julia.
She seemed much pleased, and conversed with
him very prettily.

"I want you to come in now, Julia, and see
Mrs. Le Bras," he said, after they had conversed
for about ten minutes, "so that we shall all be
acquainted with you."  He then took Julia up
into the balcony where Mrs. Le Bras was sitting.

"I think you've been a good deal of a tell-tale
this morning, Sue," said Felix, looking
quite cross.

"I haven't told any thing but the truth,"
replied Sue, quite decidedly.

"But you know, Sue," said Johnny, "that
you shouldn't tell any thing any one would not
like to have told, unless there is some very
necessary reason."

"I didn't think when I told about the blue
ribbon," replied Sue: "and I told papa, because
I thought Felix ought not to tease Julia;
but I won't tell any more, unless Felix is very
troublesome indeed."

"All the fun there is in being with girls is to
tease them: every one knows that," replied
Felix.  "I don't tease you, Sue, because you are
not as old as I am; but it's all right to tease
Julia, and she don't care half as much as she
pretends."

"But you wouldn't really set Clyde on her
kitten, would you?" asked Johnny.

"Why, of course I would!  What harm would
it do?  It would only scare the kitten a little,
and make her bristle up her tail, and run up
a tree."

"How would you like to have a great, savage-looking
animal run after you?" replied Johnny.

"Perhaps I shouldn't like it.  But what has
that to do with it?"

"The kitten wouldn't like it, either," said Sue.

This putting himself in the place of a kitten,
imagining her terrors, and pitying them, was
an entirely new idea to Felix; but he was not
willing to admit that he saw any force to the
argument.  "Oh! girls have queer notions," he
said, "and Johnny's just like them.  For my
part, I'm going to do as other boys do: I ain't
going to be a girl-boy.  I shall tease Julia
some; and if Sue wants to keep on being a
tell-tale, she can."

Julia then came running down-stairs.

"I've had a splendid visit," she said, "and
I'm going home to tell mamma about it.  Now,
don't you follow me, Felix!"

She ran down the steps and towards home
like a flash.  Possibly it might have been
Felix's intention to follow her with Clyde; but as
his uncle appeared at the door just after Julia
left, he sat still on the steps.

"That is a nice, bright girl," said Mr. Le
Bras: "you are very lucky to have such a
neighbor, children."

Mr. Le Bras then returned to the balcony,
and Sue accompanied him.  Felix whistled to
Clyde, and went to the barn to see Oliver.
But Johnny continued sitting in the piazza for
some time, looking at the light waves that
curled up over the beach in front of the cottage,
and gazing off at the blue expanse, here
and there dotted with a white sail.  He was
interested, too, in the flight of the sea-gulls, of
which a great many were darting about over
the water.  For once, when alone, he forgot to
wish for a book to read.





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   CHAPTER IX.


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   LOST.

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They all started out, about four o'clock,
on pleasure excursions, that first day of
their arrival at the cottage.  Mr. and Mrs. Le
Bras walked down to the pier, and embarked in
the sail-boat with Oliver.  Sue and Julia went
riding in the dog-cart, first going to the pier to
see the party set sail, and then riding on down
the beach to the village.  Felix and Johnny,
having found their bicycles at the baggage-house,
near the depot-building, went up the
beach.  As they came through the village, they
met Julia and Sue, who were driving leisurely
about the streets.

"Don't you wish you could ride on a bicycle,
Julia?" said Felix, as he shot past at his
best pace.

"No," called back Julia, "not with you!"

Johnny, who came after at a slower rate,
lifted his hat politely, saying, "I hope you will
have a very pleasant ride."

"I like your brother ever so much," said
Julia to Sue.  "I think he is very manly and
polite."

"Felix thinks he is the manliest," replied Sue.

"I don't," replied Julia, with emphasis.

As the boys passed the cottage, Clyde, who
had been commanded to stay at home by Felix,
ran towards them, barking loudly.

"You can come on now, Clyde," said Felix;
and the dog bounded happily after them up the
road.

"It will be fun to go on up this way,"
remarked Felix; "because I've never been any
farther than the cottages, where the shell road
ends.  We'll have to go across through a kind
of cart-track after we get there, in order to
cross over to the regular country road, which is
a good deal back from the water.  You can see
the road when we get to the cottages, and it
leads to the Point, where they blast rocks.
They're to work there all the time, Oliver says.
I didn't explore this region much last year,
because I hadn't a bicycle; as for a pony-cart, it
isn't worth any thing for exploring; but if you
are on a bicycle, you can go over stone walls, if
you want to, and then set your wheel up again
and go on."

For the whole length of the shell road, the
white-sanded beach was just at their left, with
waves dashing gently in and retreating.  The
expanse of water beyond extended a long distance,
and was bounded by a blue, misty strip of
land that looked almost like a dark cloud lying
along the horizon.  There were many sail-boats
visible, and now and then a yacht, a schooner,
or a steamboat.

"We can see no end of yachts by going down
to the Harbor," said Felix.

"Where is the Harbor?"

"Oh! they generally take the cars, and go
away down below the village, you know: but
we could go on our bicycles well enough; it
isn't so very far.  If you go down to the town,
you can see all sorts of vessels: sometimes
there's a whale-ship in.  And there are two or
three big steamboats that go from there.  There
are propellers and tugs and barges and schooners,
and lots of excursion steamers, and a school-ship,
and some of the cunningest little steamers,
not much bigger than a real big sail-boat,
which run between the Harbor and the town;
they only charge you ten cents each way; it's
a fine sail, too, past the fort and up the river."

"I should like to go to the town some day,"
said Johnny, who was quite captivated with this
description, as he had never had an opportunity
to see much shipping, except from a distance.

"We can go down there most any time:
there are some things I want to buy, and they
have all kinds of shops there."

So the boys talked, on one subject and
another, as they rode up the shell road; and at
length they reached the cottages, just beyond
which the road ended.

"Let's get off here, and wait until father and
mother come up," said Johnny; for Felix had
wheeled around, as if to go back a distance,
after they had reached the end of the road,
which terminated very abruptly.

"I'm going back to the cart-path," replied
Felix.  "Didn't you see it as we came by?"

"Yes: I noticed some tracks of wheels going
across a pasture."

"That's it.  I guess we sha'n't have any
trouble getting along through it to the road.
If we do, we can get off and walk across.  Let's
just go and try it a way, and then we can come
back and wait."

Accordingly, the boys rode back to the
cart-path, which was a little distance below the
cottages.  As it had been considerably travelled,
they found a very good road for their bicycles
in the middle of the track, which had been
worn by the feet of the horses and oxen.

"We may have to get off in that rocky
place," said Johnny; "but I think we can
get along very well.  How far is it to the
road?"'

"Oliver said it is a short half-mile."

As they were about to turn back from the
lane, after their exploration, they observed a
sail-boat coming toward the shore.

"There they are!" said Felix.  "I saw that
sail-boat as we were coming along; but it was
so far off, I couldn't be sure they were in it, as
there were so many boats around."

The boys rode back to a little wharf between
the two cottages, and alighted.  There was a
row of bathing-houses back on the beach at one
side of the wharf, against an end of which they
leaned their bicycles.  They then went and sat
down on the wharf, with their feet hanging
over the side.  The sail-boat was still some
distance off.

"What enormous cottages these are!" remarked
Johnny: "there must be large families
in them, to need so much room."

"No: that largest one has only two folks in
it besides the servants,—a man and his
wife,—unless they have company; and there are only
four persons in the other family,—a man and
his wife and two grown-up daughters.  But the
men who own the houses are millionnaires, and
my father says they build big houses to use up
some of their money: they don't know what
else to do with it."

"I should feel lonely in such a great house,
unless it had a good many folks in it," replied
Johnny.  "I think I should look up some folks
to enjoy it with me, or else I should think of
some other use for my money."

"I would build a great, magnificent ship, and
sail around the world in it," said Felix.

"That wouldn't be bad; only I don't see any
use in having the ship so large, unless you
wanted to take a great many friends with you."

"So here are the bicyclers!" said a voice
behind them; and turning quickly, they saw
Pierre just crossing the road.

"What luck?" asked Johnny.

"I have merely a brace of wild-ducks for
to-morrow's dinner.  After I had secured them, I
did not look any farther for game: I have been
talking with the men over at the Point."

"That is where we are going," replied Felix;
"but we thought we would wait until the boat
got in.  You're going back in the boat, aren't you?"

"Yes: I think so.  I have walked about
enough for one time."

Pierre sat down by the boys, and showed
them the ducks, which he had shot down by
the Point.

After the boat landed, Mr. Le Bras went up
to the larger of the cottages.

The gentleman who lived in the cottage was
one of Mr. Le Bras' clients.  Mrs. Le Bras said
Oliver could take the boys for a little sail, if
they wished; so they and Pierre got on board,
and sailed about until Mr. Le Bras came out of
the cottage.

"Did you have a nice time?" asked Johnny,
as his father joined them at the wharf.

"I had a pleasant call; but I should be very
lonely if I lived in that great house, with no
young persons around."

"Yes," said Mrs. Le Bras: "put some children
in there, and as many more grown folks to
look out for them, and it would be quite a fine
place."

It appeared the gentleman was off in his
yacht, and no one was at home but his wife:
she stood in the piazza to see them off, and
bowed politely.  She was a somewhat
sober-looking lady.  Mr. Le Bras said she was very
kind and pleasant, and he was glad to have
made her acquaintance.  Mr. Le Bras, having
promised her husband, Mr. Frothingham, that
he would let him know when he arrived at the
beach, had concluded to call and inform him
in person.  Mr. Frothingham was anxious that
Mr. Le Bras should take a trip with him in his
yacht; but Mr. Le Bras had decided that he
should not be able to go at present, since he
wished to see his family fully domesticated at
the cottage first.  Mrs. Frothingham said she
and her husband intended to come down to call
upon their new neighbors as soon as possible.

"So you are going to the Point, boys?" said
Mr. Le Bras, when he and his wife and Pierre
were seated in the boat, and Oliver was
preparing to put off from the wharf.

"Yes, sir," replied Felix: "we want to see
them blast rocks."

"I don't know about that," said Mrs. Le
Bras, looking rather anxious.

"That is all right," replied Mr. Le Bras.
"Johnny knows enough about gunpowder not
to go into any danger, and the men will look
out for them too.  Felix, you'll be careful, won't
you?  Don't go anywhere unless Johnny goes
with you."

"All right," said Felix.

Mrs. Le Bras said no more, although the
shade of anxiety had not wholly vanished from
her face.

After the boat had put off, the boys mounted
their bicycles, and rode down to the cart-track.
They were able to proceed for some distance
without dismounting; but finally, coming to a
place where there were a good many stones,
they alighted, and walked some distance, wheeling
their bicycles by their sides.  At length the
path became smooth again; and they resumed
their wheels, which they were able to keep for
the rest of the distance to the road.  The street
was level and quite broad, and although not
smooth, like the shell road, was sufficiently so
for comfortable wheeling.

"We don't have to turn into any other road
to get to the Point, do we?" said Johnny.

"No: we keep right on, for about two miles."

There were frequent farmhouses on the road;
and just before they reached the Point, they
came to a small village.

"I shouldn't wonder if the men who work in
the quarry live here," remarked Johnny.

"Yes: see what good stone steps there are
at the doors."

"It's very nice granite too.  Notice what an
even grain.  I heard father and Pierre talking
about it; and they said this stone is sent to
New York and Philadelphia for very fine buildings,
and that nice monuments are made of it."

Presently the water appeared before them,
but as yet no quarry, only green fields ending
abruptly against the blue of the water.  But
after proceeding a very little farther, they found
themselves overlooking a very different scene.
They were at the top of a gradual incline to
the water's brink, covered over with stone ledges
broken into quarries, among which a large
number of men were working busily.  Near the
water, the rock was worn by the waves into
very fantastic shapes; and, as there was a steep
ascent from the shore, it formed natural steps
and terraces in many places.

"Let's go down there by the water," said
Felix: "it's always great fun walking about
among such holes and windings in the rocks,
where the waves keep rolling up to catch you.
It's as good as a game of tag."

"Yes: I would like to go down there presently.
I never saw rocks so much worn by
water as they are.  It has taken Nature a good
many hundred years to do all that chiselling,
but she's made handsomer work of it than these
men have.  There's going to be a blast now.
See those men running this way.  Let's go and
find what luck they've had, when it's over."

The boys got off of their bicycles, and, a
moment after, there was a loud report.  The men
then went back to the place where the explosion
had taken place, and the boys followed
them.  They found the stone very evenly split.

"This granite don't give you much trouble
about splitting evenly," said Johnny to the men.

"If it did, we shouldn't be at work here, year
after year."

"I didn't know there was any difference in
granite," said Felix.

"There's just as much difference in granite
as there is in boys," replied the other man,
winking at his companion: "you know there's
good boys and bad boys, dull boys and smart
boys, and boys all the way between."

"I know of a granite quarry," remarked
Johnny, "where they don't get out any stone
better than is used for making the cellars and
underpinnings of common houses, and for walls
and rough buildings."

"There's plenty of that kind of stone for
miles around," replied one of the men: "the
stone just here at the Point is all there is that's
worth much of any thing, all along this part of
the State."

"I'd like to know how that happened," said
Johnny; "but perhaps even a geologist couldn't
tell, for sure."

"What's the use of knowin'?" returned the
man: "the rock's here, and that's all there is to it."

"Let's go down by the water now," said Felix.

"Very well," replied Johnny: "only we
mustn't stay too long, because father told us
to be back before dark.  What time is it by
your watch?"

It happened that Felix had not wound his
watch at the proper time; so when he took it
out to look at it, he saw it had stopped.  "It
is a quarter-past five," he replied, beginning to
wind the watch.

"Then, it is a good deal earlier then I
supposed: I thought it must be pretty near six.
We came over the road faster than I thought, or
else the time at the wharf seemed longer than
it was: I'll go down a little while, then."

After they had clambered among the ragged
and tortuous rocks, covered with sea-mosses
and mussels, dodging the inrunning waves merrily
for about fifteen minutes, Johnny said it
was time to go.

"But this is great fun," replied Felix.  "Let's
go down by that long gully."

"No: we shall be late home.  Besides, we
can come here earlier, almost any day, and stay
as long as we please."

"Anyhow, let's sit down here a minute, and
watch those wild-ducks by the shore: see how
splendidly they swim."

"Yes.  I think Pierre must have shot at
them in the water.  I'll sit down just a minute."

At the end of a minute, Johnny was up and
on his way to the place where he had left his
bicycle.  Felix followed slowly, calling him
"Grandfather Prim" for being so particular
about getting home early.

"I say, Johnny, there aren't any pickpockets
or kidnappers about here!  What's the matter
if we don't get home till after dark?  It's
going to be bright moonlight to-night."

Johnny made no reply, but walked on, and
regained his bicycle.

"Are you going home with me?" he said,
as Felix sat down on a block of granite, still
laughing, and trying to tease him.

"Oh!  I an't in any hurry, and it wouldn't
take me long to overtake you if you were half
way home.  Besides, Oliver told me of a nearer
way, and so I can cut across and get home
before you."

"If there is a nearer way, we had better
take it; for don't you see it is clouding up?  I
don't believe we shall have any moonlight
to-night."  As he said this, Johnny mounted his
bicycle.

Felix now noticed, for the first time, that it
was growing suddenly darker, and that a heavy
cloud was rising from the waterside.  He did
not care about going home in total darkness
and a rain-storm, with the wind blowing from
the ocean: he had seen enough such storms
the year before, to know what they meant.

"You saw that other road we passed, just
the other side of the quarrymen's houses?"
he said, stepping upon his bicycle.

"Yes, I noticed it.  But come on: we can
be talking while we ride, and there is no time
to lose."

The quarrymen were now beginning to leave work.

"I don't understand why the men are leaving
work," continued Johnny: "it isn't six o'clock,
and it won't rain right off."

One of the men was just passing him; and
Johnny said, "Do you always stop working
before six o'clock?"

"It's after six," replied the man.  "If you
live far off, you'd better make haste; for there's
a hard storm coming up."

"We are staying in a cottage down the
shell road," said Johnny.  "We came up the
shell road, and then crossed over to the other
road by a cart-path.  Can you tell us of a
nearer way home?"

"Yes: keep on this road till you come to the
road that turns off, and then keep on that till
you get home."

"It's just as I told you," said Felix, going
rapidly ahead of Johnny.  "Oliver told me all
about it.  It's that road we saw as we came along."

By this time Johnny was ahead of the man,
who had stopped to speak with another of the
quarrymen.  He hurried on, and overtook
Felix.  "I don't understand," he said, "why our
road turns to the left from this road, when we
are going to the cottages on the right."

"It doesn't go much to the left; and Oliver
said it is a slant road that turns and comes
right out on the shell road, just this side of the
lower cottages."

The boys now rode at their best pace, Felix
keeping so far ahead of Johnny that he was
some distance upon the other road when Johnny
reached the turn, and quite out of sight;
for the road made a sharp angle at this point,
and the space between was filled with trees and
underbrush.  Johnny hastened as much as
possible, and soon came in sight of Felix, who was
going slower, now that he was sure Johnny had
followed around the turn; for he had been
rather afraid he would go back on the old road
rather than trust to his guidance, even though
he had quoted Oliver's advice.

"I hope you're all right about the road,"
called out Johnny; "but, you see, your watch
was wrong; and this road slants in the wrong
direction, unless it turns and crosses the other
one somewhere.

"You'll find it will turn before long," replied
Felix: "yes, here it turns now!"

It was true: it did turn very slightly to the
right at a point just ahead, while another road
branched off of it to the left.  This was enough
to quiet Johnny's fears, and they proceeded
rapidly on their way, Felix accommodating his
pace to Johnny's for the sake of the company;
for it was now quite dusky on account of the
clouds, and the wind was beginning to blow hard.

The woods, which had been quite thin at
their right when they entered the road, soon
became thicker, and presently there were woods
upon each side: they were passing through a
strip of forest.  It was so dark here that they
could not see distinctly, and were obliged to
ride slowly for fear of getting out of the road,
or coming across some obstacle in their track.

"If father and mother would not be so frightened,
we had better go back to the village at
the quarry, and stay till the storm is over, or
until morning," said Johnny anxiously, after
they had proceeded some distance through the
woods.

"I an't going back through these woods,"
replied Felix, "not if I once get out of them;
and don't you see that kind of opening ahead?"

Johnny had been looking down to see, if possible,
where he was riding; but now, glancing
forward, he saw a lightish spot in the distance
at the left.

"If that is the opening in the road, this road
don't lead anywhere near home," replied
Johnny; "but I guess it must be, for I think I
can see that the road turns around just ahead
of us.  Don't you see how thick and dark it is,
right ahead, like thick woods?"

"Yes, I noticed that; and that's what made
me think the light spot you see over there
through the trees was where the road comes
out of the woods.  We might just as well go
out there, and ask to stop at some farmhouse,
as to try to go back to the village through the
woods."

"I don't see what makes that place look so
light," said Johnny: "I shouldn't suppose that
just the difference between the woods and
outside would make it as light, unless it has
cleared off; and if it has, I should think we
could see some of the light here in the woods."

"We'll find out pretty soon: here we are at
the turn, now."

As they passed on around the turn, and
beyond, it became much lighter: they could see
their way with tolerable distinctness.  As they
approached the bright spot, which was now
plainly the end of the woods, the light increased.

"The sun is certainly shining," remarked
Felix, "and so we can get home some way:
though I don't intend to go through these woods
again."

When they came out of the woods, they
found themselves facing a meadow, with the
view just beyond obstructed by a thick fog.
The sky was dark with heavy clouds; and the
road they were on led, at the left, directly down
upon the beach, upon which the surf was rolling
heavily.  Just outside the woods, the road
continued to the right, at nearly right angles with
that upon which they had been travelling.
Close by the water, and almost within reach of
the boiling surf, was the lighthouse, which
explained the mystery of the bright spot which
had so puzzled Johnny.  The wind here was
blowing a gale.  It was no longer possible for
them to guide their wheels.  They dismounted,
and stood shivering in their light garments
before the gale.

"It seems to me that if we take this road at
the right, it might lead us home," said Johnny.

"You don't get me trying any more roads,
until I am sure," returned Felix: "I don't see
how Oliver came to get us into such a fix.
Let's go over to the lighthouse, and ask the
way home.  If we've got to go through those
woods again, we'll have to stay till morning.
I guess we'd better stay, anyhow, if they're
willing."

"No," returned Johnny firmly.  "I must get
home to-night, if possible: it would frighten my
mother almost to death, I am afraid, if we didn't
get back.  But, of course, we had better go to
the lighthouse, and inquire our way.  Let's leave
our wheels here in the road; for we must come
back here on our way home, probably."

Being relieved of the bicycles, they
proceeded to the lighthouse as rapidly as the
wind, blowing from the sea, would allow, and
soon reached the keeper's dwelling, which was
a stone building attached to the lighthouse.
They stood for some time upon the steps,
buffeted by the strong wind from the ocean at the
left, the spray from the waves dashing in their
faces as the breeze blew it towards them.  They
were only a few yards from the shore.

"We didn't rap loud enough," said Felix,
pounding with both hands upon the door: "the
waves and wind make such a noise, they can't
hear us."

"I wondered how the wind came to make
such a strange noise, when we were coming
through the woods," said Johnny: "it was the
rush of the surf."

"I came over here several times with my
father, last year," said Felix: "we used to
come over whenever we had company, to show
them the ocean and lighthouse.  I have seen
the man who keeps the lighthouse so many
times, that I think he will remember me."

Still no one came to the door.

"They can't hear, on account of the surf,"
said Johnny.

"Let's both pound together, then."

So both of the boys rapped as loudly as they
could upon the door, with both hands.

"The lighthouse-keeper has a boy about seventeen
years old," said Felix.  "He told me there
was an awful undertow here.  I hope he will
come to the door, for I am sure he will remember me."

"Who is it?" asked a youthful voice inside
the door.  At first the boys could not distinguish
the words; but after shouting back, and
putting their cars close to the door, they soon
made out the repeated inquiry, although it
sounded very faint.

"We're two boys who have lost our way!"
called back Johnny.

"I'm Felix Le Bras, from one of the cottages
on the beach!" sang out Felix, in a loud tone.
"I know the folks here, and I want to come
in and inquire the way home."

The door was opened a very little way, and a
soft, timid voice said,—

"You can come in, but there isn't any one
at home but me."

The boys followed the owner of the voice
into a room at the end of the hall, which was
upon the farther side of the house.  It might
have been a pleasant room in a sunny day; but
being very plainly furnished, with no books,
pictures, or papers about, and only lighted by a
small kerosene-lamp, while the wind and waves
howled without, it seemed to Johnny a rather
dull place for a girl to stay in alone.

Felix stared at the girl, while she looked
bashfully at the boys, saying,—

"It's too bad you've got lost, and such a bad
night too!  I thought it was pretty lonesome
staying here by myself, such a windy night;
but it would be worse to be lost, out of doors.
Only, there are two of you.  If I had another
girl here, perhaps I shouldn't be lonely at all.
Sit down, won't you?  I'd get you some supper,
only I don't know as my aunt would like
it.  I suppose, if you're lost, you haven't had
any supper.  I guess I could let you have some
pilot-bread, anyway."

"What I want to know first," replied Felix,
"is how you come to be here.  I was told last
summer that no one lived here except the
lighthouse-keeper and his boy; and now you're
here, and you tell about your aunt."

"My mother died last spring, and I came to
live here.  And my uncle got married again
last winter, and that's the way I came to have
an aunt here.  But Andrew isn't here now:
he's gone smacking."

"Smacking!" exclaimed Johnny.  "What's smacking?"

"Why, he's gone off fishing for mackerel in a
smack."

"Oh!  I know what that is," explained Felix;
"it's a fishing-vessel; I believe it has one
mast, but is a good deal larger than a sail boat."

"Do you like to stay here?" inquired Johnny,
casting another glance about the dreary apartment.

"No," replied the girl, looking down, with a
rather sad expression of countenance; "but
my mother's dead, and so I can't help it.
Perhaps by and by I can find a good place to go
out to work where there are some children:
that's what my aunt wants me to do, and I
think I should like it better than staying here.
My uncle is going to ask some of the cottagers
if they want a girl to help take care of children:
my aunt keeps reminding him to ask, and
he keeps forgetting it, or saying he hasn't time.
Sometimes I think I will go over there and ask
myself; and I mean to, as soon as I get my
new dress done; I'm sewing on it as fast as I can."

The boys then noticed that there was a partly
finished blue calico dress lying upon the
table near the lamp, and also a little thimble, a
spool of thread, and a pair of scissors.

"You can tell us the way to the cottages,
then?" said Johnny; "we're in a great hurry to
get there: our folks will be very much worried
at our not getting home before this."

"I've been there once with my uncle; but
we went round by the village, because you
can't get across so well with a wagon by the
other road; the end of the road isn't finished."

"You can get across with a bicycle, though,"
replied Felix: "and Oliver says he is going to
cut the bushes down back of our place, so we
can go right across with our team; father told
him to see it was done this year, for we don't
want to have to go around by the village every
time we take folks over here to the ocean."

"I don't see how we could get across any
wild place with our bicycles, as dark as it is
now," remarked Johnny, looking very sober.
"When you told of another road, I thought of
course it was a real road all the way down to
the cottages."

"Well, I supposed it would be light enough
for us to see.  Oliver said we should come right
down back of the house, and we could get off,
and walk across right into our grounds.  We
can stay here all night, if you're afraid to try it
in the dark."

"I don't think I am afraid, but I don't see
how we could find our way.  I think we had
better try it, though, for I don't see as any
thing can happen to us: it isn't so very late,
and perhaps we can find our way very well.  If
we can't, we can come back here."

"Yes," said the girl: "and, by that time, my
uncle will be home; I am sure he will let you
stay.  He is a real pleasant man: I am not
afraid of him at all."

"Are you afraid of any one?" inquired Johnny.

"Why, no: I'm not exactly afraid.  But my
aunt isn't as fond of children as my uncle is:
perhaps it's because she never had any children
of her own."

"I suppose the direct road to the cottages is
this one up by the edge of the woods," said
Johnny.

"Yes: my uncle always goes that way, when
he cuts across."

"Are there any turns? or is it just a straight
road?"

"I think it is straight, but I'm not certain."

"I think we'd better risk it, Felix.  If we
keep the road that leads as much as possible
in a line from here, I think we must be right,
even if there are other roads on the way."

"If you'll risk it, I will," replied Felix.

"Is your clock right?" asked Johnny of the girl.

"Yes: my uncle always keeps it right."

"It isn't eight o'clock, then.  We ought to
get home by nine easily, even if we do have to
go slowly.  I don't know but it would be safer
to walk, Felix."

"Oh, no! it's a good road, I guess: we'd be
forever getting home that way."

"But you know I can't see as well as you
can.  I might get a header."

"I'll go ahead, then, and lead the way, and
you follow in my track."

"Shall I get you some pilot-bread?" asked
the girl.  "I know I could let you have that;
but my aunt don't like to cook very well, and I
don't quite dare to get any thing out of the
pantry."

"Yes, let's have some, and some water,"
replied Felix: "I'm most starved to death.  If
there's any thing to pay, I'll settle with your
uncle when I come over here again."

"Oh! my uncle won't take any thing: he's a
real nice man.  I wish he was here, and he'd
give you a good supper, and take you to your
cottage.  But my aunt was in town visiting
to-day, and he's gone in to bring her home.  I
don't believe he'll get back before nine."

After the girl had disappeared, Johnny said,
"Isn't it too bad she has to live in such a
lonely place, where there are no other young
folks?"

"Yes," replied Felix: "I hope she'll get a
good place at one of the cottages."

"So do I: then we could get acquainted
with her, and we would introduce her to Julia."

"Oh, no! we couldn't.  She would only be
a nurse-girl, and we couldn't associate with
her; and a rich girl like Julia wouldn't be
introduced to her, nor have any thing to do with her."

Johnny felt quite shocked at this statement;
but before he could reply, the girl came back
bringing a plateful of pilot-bread in one hand,
and a little tin pail of water and a tumbler in
the other.  She placed these on the table; and
the boys sat down, and began to eat with good
appetites.

"I didn't know before that pilot-bread was so
good," remarked Felix.

"I did," said Johnny: "I always liked it.
We have it quite often at home, instead of
crackers; because Sue and I like it so well.
And this is excellent pilot-bread."

The girl seemed very much pleased at this
praise of the refreshment; and, after the boys
had emptied the plate, she offered to get some
more bread and water.  But they assured her
they could not wait any longer.  They did not
say they could not eat any more, for they were
still hungry.

As they were about to go out again into the
dark, windy night, Johnny asked the girl what
her name was; and she replied, "Ruth Anderson."

After some difficulty, they found their bicycles,
and walked along the road with them until
they were so far from the shore that the wind
no longer made it impossible to mount.  The
light from the lighthouse was a great help to
them for some distance; but, the farther they
receded from the beach, the darker it became;
and finally, as a slight turn to the right brought
the woods between them and the light, they
were again in darkness.  As soon as their eyes
became accustomed to the change, however,
they were able to proceed tolerably well;
although, from their ignorance of the road, they
did not dare ride rapidly.  Felix kept ahead,
and Johnny followed at a little distance
behind.  Before they had proceeded more than
a mile, it began to rain.  This complicated
matters.  Although it did not rain very hard
at first, it was evident that a storm was setting in.

"It won't do for us to get soaking wet," said
Johnny, "since we are not sure of finding our
way home.  If it rains real hard, we had better
stop at a house, if we come to any."

"I don't believe we shall come to any," returned
Felix: "we haven't seen any sort of a
building yet."

They rode on now as rapidly as they dared,
and all the time the drops were coming faster
and heavier.  Presently it began to pour, and
the wind rose so that they had to give up their
bicycles again.  The wind continued with such
violence, that, after they were upon their feet,
they could walk only in the direction in which
it was blowing.  But, as Johnny said, that was
in the direction of home.  They were obliged
to leave their bicycles, after drawing them to
one side of the road, as well as they could
judge of that location in the darkness.  There
seemed to be some tall grass at the side of the
road.  After proceeding some distance farther,
stumbling into puddles, and occasionally into
the stone wall that bordered the side of the
road, Felix announced that he was certain
there was a house or barn just off at the right.

"For here's an opening in the wall," he
continued: "this shows there is some kind of a
place along here."

As for Johnny, he declared he could not see
any thing.  But under Felix's directions, he
felt where the wall ended, and walked in that
direction.  By this time they had lost the
road, and could not find it again; and Felix was
not as sure as before that they were near a house.

"I know one thing," said Johnny: "we're in
a sort of rough piece of land; we'd better get
back into the street, if we can."

They finally took hold of each other's hands,
for fear of losing each other in the thick
darkness.  They were drenched to the skin.  Felix
began to cry.

"We'll have to wander about here all night,"
he sobbed in a piteous tone, "and we shall, like
enough, be half dead before morning."  Johnny
thought, with aching heart, of his mother's
distress, and of what a sorrow it would be to her
and his father and Sue if he should be found
dead or dying.  He thought of the horror of
Felix's dying, too, of the double grief to his own
parents, and of the despair of his uncle and
aunt at the loss of their only child.  Still, he
did not really think that being out in the wind
and rain all night could kill them.  "I guess we
could live through it, Felix," he returned
cheerily: "boys are not killed so easily.  Let's try
and feel for the road once more."

As Johnny spoke, he put down his hand to
see if he could make sure of the nature of the
ground, and his head came violently in contact
with some obstacle.





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.. _`TROUBLE`:

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   CHAPTER X.


.. class:: center medium bold

   TROUBLE.

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After Mr. and Mrs. Le Bras had returned
to the pier in the sail-boat, Oliver said he
should be just in time to go to the station for
Kate.

"How far is the town from the village?" inquired
Mrs. Le Bras.

"About six miles, ma'am."

"I think, then, that I will ride to the village
with you; and, after we have taken in Kate, you
may drive into town.  I don't know what I shall
do in this quiet place, Frank, without more to
take up my mind: so I think I will get some
oil-colors, and try painting again; there are such
lovely views about here.  It will amuse me, and
help to keep up my painting, which is getting
very rusty indeed.  If I can succeed pretty well,
the views will be pleasant souvenirs of our
summer vacation here."

"I should like that very much," replied
Mr. Le Bras.  "I would accompany you to town
were it not for returning so late.  Some one
must be here to see to the children: Felix is
so thoughtless that I have not the confidence
about leaving them that I used to have in
leaving John and Sue."

"Oh, no! the children must not be left.  But
suppose you go, Frank, and get the paints.  I
am sure you can do it quite as well."

"No: I should be sure to make some mistake.
And Pierre and I were to try a little
fishing off the rocks.  He has some ducks for
dinner, and we thought we might capture some
porgies or blackfish for breakfast."

"I'll go up and git the carriage, then," said
Oliver.  "Here's a nice pavilion you can sit
in, ma'am, till I git back: I sha'n't be long."

The pavilion was a large canvas roof,
supported by a frame placed on the shore near the
pier.  There were seats under it, upon which
nurses and children were sitting, and also
several ladies and gentlemen.  Mr. Le Bras seated
his wife upon one of the vacant benches, and he
and Pierre sat down by her side.

"Those rocks, down yonder, look like a
pretty good fishing-place," remarked Pierre,
glancing at a cluster of rocks projecting into
the water, some distance below the cottages.

"Yes: we will try that place.  I believe you
said you had lines and hooks with you."

"Yes: they are in my pouch.  I thought I
might try fishing up at the Point, if I did not
succeed in getting the ducks; but ducks are
very plenty there."

After they had sat conversing for a while,
Oliver arrived with the carriage; and Mrs. Le
Bras got in, and rode off towards the village.
Her last words were,—

"You will have to give an extra good-night
kiss to the children, for me, Frank.  I am afraid I
shall not be at home in time; for I am sure they
will be very tired, and wish to go to bed early."

After the carriage had driven off, Mr. Le
Bras and Pierre procured some bait at a little
fish-market near the shore, and then proceeded
to the rocks.  By half-past six they had caught
several blackfish and a sea-bass: it had by that
time become very cloudy and windy, and was
getting dark.

"I think we shall have to make the blackfish
answer for breakfast," said Mr. Le Bras.  "As
for the bass, that will make a good first course
for dinner.  We shall not have much more
than time to get back to supper.  I will not
have it put off again until seven.  I did it to
accommodate John and Felix about going to
the Point in the cool of the day.  Hereafter,
they can take morning for bicycling, as usual:
I thought I would indulge them for once."

Mr. Le Bras was somewhat surprised, on
reaching home, to find that Johnny and Felix
had not returned.  Sue and Julia were sitting
in the veranda, talking merrily; but Sue's face
fell a little when she found her mother would
not be home until late.

"It would have been sort of lonely when I
got back, if it hadn't been for Julia," she said.

"I supposed the boys would be at home by
this time," replied Mr. Le Bras.  "But they
will doubtless arrive very soon."

As supper was not quite ready, Mr. Le Bras
and Pierre went out by the barn to dress the
blackfish, which required skinning, having told
Mary that she need not ring the supper-bell
until the boys came.  But after the fish were
dressed, and the gentlemen had washed their
hands, and brushed their clothes, there was no
further excuse for delaying supper.  Yet there
were still no boys in view.

"I do not understand this," said Mr. Le
Bras.  "But we will have supper now, Mary.
As for those young truants, they will deserve
nothing better than bread and water when they
make their appearance.  I should suppose that
cloud would have warned them home, even had
I not told them to be here by seven.  If they
do not come soon, I fear they will get a
wetting."

"It's Felix's fault, some way, I'm sure," said
Sue.  "You ought to hear Julia tell what
pranks he cut up here last summer: she said he
wouldn't mind his father and mother at all, and
was always getting into some scrape or other,
or getting some one else in.  He and that Jack,
who stoned her kitten,—his kitten, I mean,
that's hers now,—they were great friends:
only they were always fighting and quarrelling
with each other.  Dear me! how sleepy I am!
I can hardly keep my eyes open long enough to
eat my supper."

"That must be what ails the boys," said
Pierre, laughing, as Sue leaned back in her
chair, holding her knife and fork in a very
languid manner, as if the dissection of the sardine
on her plate was a great task to be undertaken.
"They have been overcome by the exercise
and seaside air, and fallen asleep by the side of
their bicycles."

Just then the rain began to dash against the
panes of the dining-room windows.  Mr. Le
Bras rose from the table, and, going out at the
front-door, looked up the road; but it was now
too dark and foggy to see any distance.  As
he came back to the table, he said rather
gravely,—

"It is pretty dark now for the boys to make
their way home.  I hope they will not try it
on the beach-road; for they might ride into
the water, Felix is so heedless, and Johnny
so near-sighted."

"I think I heard Felix say they were coming
back on the other road," replied Pierre: "I'll
go and look out the back way."

So Pierre went to the back-door, and looked
out: in fact, he went far out into the huckleberry
pasture behind the barn.  But nothing
could be seen or heard but rain and darkness
and the sighing of the wind.

"What can be done?" asked Mr. Le Bras,
as Pierre came in with his report.

"I might take one of the horses, and ride up
to the quarrymen's houses at the Point, and see
if they are there all right.  I think I can keep
the shell road easily, even in the darkness; and
I will give the horse the lead across the
cart-path.  When we get to the other road, I will
turn to the left; and the horse will go on
without any trouble till we get to the houses."

"But you will get badly wet."

"That is nothing: I am used to it.  Besides,
I have a rubber coat."

"Is there a saddle at the barn?"

"If not, it will not make much difference."

"Yes, there is, sir," said Mary, who had just
come into the dining-room with a fresh supply
of dry toast.  "Isn't it dreadful those children
ha'n't come?  If Mrs. Le Bras was here, she'd
be worried enough."

"Yes: that is the worst of it," replied
Mr. Le Bras.  "I would go and look for them
myself, were it not for fear she would be back
before I was.  I must try to keep it from her, if
possible."

"I will go right out, then, and saddle the
pony," replied Pierre.

"You'll find the saddle hanging up just at
the left of the door, as you go in," said Mary.
"An' I'll go and light you a lantern."

By this time, Sue was fast asleep in her
chair at the table.  Her father took her in his
arms, and carried her up to her room.  Mary
said she would come right up and undress her.

"If she wakes up enough to ask any questions,
don't tell her about the boys not being
home, if you can help it," said Mr. Le Bras;
"for she might hear her mother when she
comes, and tell her the trouble: although I hope
they will be back before then."

Mr. Le Bras gave Sue two kisses very soberly
as he laid her on the bed, and then hurried
down to see Pierre off.  As Pierre rode up
the shell road, in the darkness and wind and
rain, Mr. Le Bras called out, "If you come
back alone, go quietly around to the back-door,
and I will be on the lookout for you.  My wife
will probably be home by that time."

In fact, Mrs. Le Bras reached the cottage
before Pierre had been gone more than a half-hour.
Oliver had put his horses to their best
speed on account of the storm.  Kate went into
the kitchen with Mary, who was delighted to
have a companion for the whole summer, and
knew, by the first glance she gave at Kate's,
good-humored, intelligent face, that they should
be great friends.  Mrs. Le Bras went immediately
to her own room, saying she was never
more tired in her life, "and all in having
a good time," she added.  "I have got my
paints all right, and the brushes.  It is really
a very nice little town, with stores up to the
times."

"Did you go to a restaurant and get some
supper?" inquired Mr. Le Bras, trying to look
unconcerned.

"No: we dared not wait so long.  We stopped
at a baker's, and got some refreshments, which
we ate on the way home.  I bought some cookies
for the children too.  I suppose they came
home all tired out?"

"Sue was so tired that she went to sleep at
the supper-table," replied Mr. Le Bras.

"And of course Johnny and Felix got home
before the rain?"

"I told John to be home by seven, you remember."

"And Johnny is always so prompt.  What a
good boy he is!  Did you give them the extra
kisses, my dear?"

"I am afraid they were both lost on Sue, because
I carried her up to bed fast asleep."

"I believe you are as sleepy as I am, my
dear: your face looks an inch longer than usual,
and you have scarcely looked at me all the time
I have been talking.  Why don't you get ready
to go to bed?"

"I must go down and lock the doors first;
and I must see Pierre, too, and talk up some
plans for to-morrow morning."

"Hasn't Pierre gone to bed?"

"Oh, no!"

"I think I'll just look in on Sue a minute."

Mrs. Le Bras took the lamp, and, stepping
softly to Sue's door, opened it, and looked in.

"Just as pretty as ever.  I have a great
mind to go and look at Johnny in his new room."

"No," said Mr. Le Bras, taking the lamp:
"you had better go directly to bed, and let me
take the lamp.  I am afraid Pierre is waiting
for me."

"Very well," replied Mrs. Le Bras, lying
down.  "You'll be up before long, won't you?"

"Yes.  Go to sleep now."

Mr. Le Bras placed the lamp in the lower
hall, and then, opening the front-door a little
way, put out his head, and listened.  He could
hear nothing but the wind and rain.  Mary stole
in from the kitchen, and said, "I haven't told
Kate, as you said; but hadn't I better tell
Oliver?"

"You get Kate off to bed, and I will tell
Oliver."

When Kate had gone, Mr. Le Bras went
into the kitchen, and consulted with Oliver.
Oliver was sure the boys were safe in some
house at the quarry.  "An' that's what Pierre'll
tell you when he gits back, sir."

"I think so too," said Mr. Le Bras.

At that moment the door opened, and Pierre
entered the room.

"Did you find them at the quarry?" asked
Mr. Le Bras breathlessly.

Pierre shook his head.

"The men said they took the wrong road, according
to the account of the folks at the village,
who saw two boys on bicycles turn off the road
at the left, just this side of the houses, which
leads over by the lighthouse.  It seems they
asked one of the quarrymen what road to take
to come back the other way; and one of them
said, 'Turn off at the first road you come to,'
supposing they would know enough to turn to
the right, and not to the left.  But the men say
it's all right: the boys would have come out by
the lighthouse about the time it began to rain
hard, and would stay there, of course, on such a
wild night."

"Yes, I suppose they are there," replied
Mr. Le Bras.  "Even if there could be any less
consoling supposition, the storm is now too wild
for any further attempt to find them.  It is a
wonder to me that you got to the Point and
back in the wind and darkness.  Go to your
room at once; and I will come up, by the time
you are in bed, and give you some hot ginger-tea."

Pierre said he never took cold, but went to
his room, while Oliver went out and put up the
horse.

It was agreed that Oliver should get up at
daybreak, and go over to the lighthouse, and, if
the boys were not there, inquire at any other
houses where they could possibly have taken
refuge, so that their safety might be known
before Mrs. Le Bras awoke in the morning.
As for Mr. Le Bras, he spent a sleepless
night.  But he was grateful for one thing,—his
wife slept soundly.  He arose early, and, as
Mrs. Le Bras was still sleeping, stole downstairs
to escape having any questions to answer
before Oliver came back from his expedition.
Pierre, too, was down-stairs, looking anxious
and uneasy.  It was a very bright morning as
far as the weather was concerned.

"Suppose we walk over towards the lighthouse
ourselves," said Mr. Le Bras; "the
suspense is getting unendurable; although, of
course, they are all right."

So Mr. Le Bras and Pierre started off across
lots; and shortly after, Mary and Kate came
down to prepare breakfast.

About half way to the lighthouse, they met
Oliver coming back, looking blank and sober.

"Haven't you found them?" said Mr. Le
Bras, with a sinking heart.

"They was at the lighthouse all right; but
they left there about half-past seven, in all that
'ere wind and rain.  There wasn't any one at the
lighthouse but a little gal, a niece of the keeper;
an' she says the smaller of them, that's Johnny,
said they must try and git home, and that, if
they didn't, they'd come back to the lighthouse:
and so they s'posed they was home all right."

"What houses are there about?" inquired
Pierre; for Mr. Le Bras seemed unable to speak.

"There ain't none on this road, nor a barn;
an' how they could a got away from the road in
the storm, an' over the stun walls with their
bicycles, I don't see nohow.  There's that house,
way over yonder; that's the nearest house to
this 'ere road: now, 'pears to me they couldn't
a got there without flyin' over all them walls."

"If they came this road, they couldn't have
got into the water," said Pierre: "I shouldn't
wonder if they made their way clear to the end
down by the other cottages."

"That may be," said Mr. Le Bras: "let us
go right down there.  You can go home, Oliver,
and Pierre and I will continue the search.  If
Mrs. Le Bras comes down before we come back,
tell her—indeed, what can you tell her?  I
must try to be back myself.  Let us make
haste, Pierre!"

Mr. Le Bras and Pierre made inquiries
through the whole row of cottages, with all the
haste possible; but no one had seen or heard
of the missing boys.  As they returned home,
along the shell road, Mr. Le Bras was silent.
He was pale, and walked rapidly.  Pierre tried
to think of some bright probability regarding
Felix and Johnny; but although it seemed
unlikely that they could have perished, like the
babes in the wood, in a single night, he could
picture no place of refuge which they had not
searched.  The farmhouse only was left; but,
as Oliver had said, it would have been next to
impossible for them to go across lots and over
stone walls to any definite place, that dark and
stormy night.  Still, he finally suggested to
Mr. Le Bras that he might hurry over there
and inquire.

"No," replied Mr. Le Bras: "we will go home
first, and inform my wife; it cannot be kept
from her any longer.  And then you and I
and Oliver will scour the region in different
directions.  If nothing serious has happened to
the boys, however, they will make their appearance
themselves before long.  What I am afraid
of is that they have been overcome by fatigue
and exposure, having been out all night, and
are now lying helpless somewhere in the fields
or woods."

When they reached the cottage, they entered
the front-door.  Just then the breakfast-bell
rang.  Mr. Le Bras paused in the hall to
compose himself for the sad task before him.  He
took off his hat, and wiped his forehead: he
tried to look cheerful and unconcerned.
Mrs. Le Bras came tripping down-stairs with Sue,
in the best of spirits.

"What a lovely morning after the rain!"
she said.  "How blue the sky and water are!
How cheerful the cottage looks!  What a
delicious sea-breeze!  What an appetite we shall
have for your blackfish!  Isn't it a lovely place,
my dear?"

Mr. Le Bras suppressed a groan: he turned
away his face, but she did not notice.  Sue
ran ahead to the dining-room.

Mr. Le Bras had just taken his wife's arm to
lead her aside into the parlor, and there break
the startling news to her as gently as possible,
when Sue was heard saying,—

"You were very bad boys!  You didn't get
home at seven last night, as you promised;
and I am sure papa will make you pay a penalty."

Mr. Le Bras felt giddy, almost faint; but he
had presence of mind enough to lead his wife
into the dining-room instead of the parlor, and
there at the table in their places sat two
rosy-cheeked, happy-looking boys, with their eyes
brimful of fun and expectancy; although a
keen observer might have noticed a shade more
of gravity upon Johnny's face than upon Felix's
daring countenance.

Pierre, who was standing in the front-door,
thinking gloomily, all of a sudden, of the pond
just this side of the lighthouse, of which a man
at the Point had spoken as a good place to get
water-lilies, and wondering if the boys could
have stumbled into it, heard Sue's clear, merry
voice also; and his heart bounded joyfully as
he turned and joined the group in the dining-room.

After grace had been said, Mr. Le Bras
began to serve, without saying a word.

"Didn't you get home until after seven?"
Mrs. Le Bras asked the boys, as she began to
pour out the coffee.

"No, ma'am," replied Johnny, looking curiously
at his father: "we didn't get into the
house until this morning.  We got caught in
the rain."

"And so we lodged away from home," added
Felix, who could not wait for Johnny to tell it
all himself; "but, as it happened, we didn't have
to pay any thing for lodging."

"Why!" said Mrs. Le Bras, looking at her
husband with some surprise: "why didn't you
tell me the boys were staying away from home?"

"As I could not tell you exactly where they
were staying, my dear,—although I supposed,
that, having got caught in the rain, they were
safe with some good family hereabouts,—I
thought it best not to tell you until this
morning, for fear you would be anxious, and worry
about them."

"I presume I should, and you were very kind;
although generally I think I should prefer to
know, in such a case.  But how did it happen,
boys, that you were belated, and so did not get
home before it rained hard?  I am sure I heard
Johnny's father tell him to be back by seven.
And where did you stay all night?  Just to
think of it!  Why, Johnny was never away from
both me and his father for a night before!  Yes,
I should have been very nervous if I had known it!"

"You had better begin at the beginning,
boys," remarked Mr. Le Bras, "and then, by
the time you have finished the account, you
will have answered all your mother's questions.
Let Felix begin first; and when he has got as
far as the lighthouse, Johnny may take up the
narrative, and complete it."

"What do you know about the lighthouse?"
asked Felix.

"Never mind, my boy: tell your story first."

Felix began, and gave the narration with
tolerable accuracy.  When he came to Johnny's
asking him what time it was, Mr. Le Bras
said,—

"Was your watch right, Felix?"

"I didn't know whether it was right then, or
not; but it couldn't have been right, we found
out afterwards."

"You supposed it to be right, then?"

"Why, I knew, as soon as I took it out, that
it had stopped; but I couldn't tell for sure but
what it had stopped just about that time.  I
didn't tell Johnny it had stopped; because he
didn't ask me what time it was, but what time
it was by my watch; and so I really told him
what time it was by my watch, and then I
wound it up.  I didn't tell a lie anyway, you
see; and I didn't know but what the watch had
just stopped, and so it was the right time."

"I think we must have a little talk together,
by and by, about the watch business, Felix,"
said Mr. Le Bras rather gravely.  "But go on
now with your account."

When Felix got as far as their knocking at
the lighthouse door, the story was turned over
to Johnny, who gave a very interesting account,
to begin with, of their visit with Ruth.

"I must get acquainted with Ruth, just as
soon as ever I can!" exclaimed Sue; "and I
want to see the blue dress.  That will be two
girls,—Julia and Ruth; and it will be a nice
ride to the lighthouse for Julia and me, in the
dog-cart."

When Johnny came to their wandering about
in the storm on foot, having lost the road, and
being so drenched and despairing, Mrs. Le
Bras exclaimed,—

"Why, this is perfectly dreadful!  My dear,
how could you rest easy with these boys away
from home?  If you had told me, I should have
insisted upon some one being sent to look for
them.  They might have taken their death-cold.
Are you certain, boys, that you feel
quite well?  I am not sure but you ought to be
put to bed this minute, with hot drinks, and
wrapped in blankets."

The boys laughed at this: they said they
never felt better in their lives.

"I think it will not, apparently, endanger
their lives to finish the account before going to
bed; as I judge that Johnny is nearly through
now," replied Mr. Le Bras, smiling.

"Well," continued Johnny, "we were feeling
about, trying to find the road again, when I
knocked my head against something.  I felt of
it, and found it was some sort of a building.
We both examined it with our hands, and
concluded it was a barn; as it was smooth, and
didn't have any windows as far as we could
reach.  We felt our way around to the other
side, and came to a door which we managed to
open.  We went in, and pulled the door
together, to keep out the rain, and felt our way
around for the hay-mow.  We couldn't find
any mow, but we came across a lot of nice
clean straw on the floor; and we lay down in it,
and covered ourselves up with it, and, after
talking a while, we fell asleep."

"You said your prayers first, didn't you?" said Sue.

"Why, no!" replied Johnny, as if the
omission had just occurred to him; "I don't believe
I did; I guess we were so excited that we
forgot to say our prayers.  We didn't say them,
did we, Felix?"

"No.  Let's see: one of the last things I
said was to remind you of what you said, one
day, about there couldn't be any fire, unless the
carbon and hydrogen had oxygen to combine
with it, and I asked you how it happened, then,
that the men at the quarry rammed the powder
down in a hole, with a lot of stuff jammed on
the top of it, as if they were trying to keep
the air out on purpose."

"Oh, yes!" said Johnny; "and then I said
that was what they were trying to do; because
there was a lot of oxygen in the saltpetre that
was in the powder, which furnished a plenty to
unite with the sulphur and charcoal, and then,
when they began to unite, all in an instant,
because every thing was all mixed just right,
there'd got to be ever so much more room for
the expansion of the gas, and that forced the
rock apart."

"Yes," added Felix; "and then I said, 'Oh! that's
it.  I'm glad you can tell a fellow every
thing he wants to know, except how to find his
way home on a dark night.'  And that's the
last we said."

"So Johnny says his prayers to be kept safe
when he's all nice at home, and when he's lost
way off somewhere, he forgets all about them,"
remarked Sue, as she buttered her roll.

"But we got along all right, just the same,"
said Felix.

"Probably that's because some of the prayers
you said before had enough about being kept
safe to last over one night," explained Sue.

"I protest against this digression!" exclaimed
Pierre.  "Here's Johnny come to the
most interesting part of his story, and then he
leaves off just at the critical part, just like the
sensational papers."

"That was what I was going to say.  I will
talk with Johnny about forgetting his prayer,
to-night," said Mrs. Le Bras.  "And now go
on, my son."

"I am very curious to know what barn they
slept in," remarked Mr. Le Bras.

"So am I," said Kate, who having come in
with some hot rolls, when Felix began the
story, had been standing spell-bound ever
since, with her salver in her hand.

"I believe Felix said he awoke once in the
night," continued Johnny, "and saw someone
with a light, putting up a horse; but I didn't
wake up until morning."

"I didn't see the man nor the horse," explained
Felix; "but I saw a light, and heard a
horse stepping about; and then I saw the light
vanish, and heard the man fasten a door.  I
don't think I had been asleep long then, for
I felt pretty wet and a little cold; and I pulled
some more straw up over me."

"Go on, Johnny," said Mr. Le Bras.

"When I awoke in the morning, I was
pretty well surprised to find we were in our
own barn.  I woke Felix up, and we had a
good laugh.  Then we went out, and found
that the reason we couldn't find the road was
because we had come to where it turned into
another road running down towards the cottages,
and the stone wall had ended there.  We
had left our bicycles in a kind of marshy place,
by the side of the road, full of tall reeds: we
could hardly find them, they were so covered
up with the reeds."

"That is the reason we did not see them,
Pierre," remarked Mr. Le Bras.

"We rolled our bicycles back to the barn,
and put them up, and then came into the
house.  Mary and Kate had just come down to
get breakfast; and Mary said father and Pierre
were afraid we were lost, and Oliver had gone
to look us up, but we needn't say any thing
to mother and Sue, as they didn't know any
thing about it.  I told Mary and Kate to let
father and Pierre know we had come home;
and then Felix and I went to our rooms to
change our clothes.  They were all dry, but
they looked pretty well tumbled and muddy;
and we needed a good washing ourselves.
Before we were ready, Oliver came up, and
said my father and Pierre were in a great
fright, and had gone down to the cottages to
inquire for us.  We told him to hurry off, and
let them know we were all right.  After he had
been gone a little while, the breakfast-bell rang,
and we came down."

"Oliver missed your father and Pierre," said
Kate; "for he went down on the back road,
while they were coming up on the shell road.
And he and Mary are in a great state to hear
how it all happened; so, now I know, I'll go to
the kitchen and tell them."

By this time, breakfast was finished; and
Mrs. Le Bras was still anxious, for fear the
boys would take cold from their exposure.

"Go to your rooms, boys, and go to bed,"
said Mr. Le Bras, "and let Mrs. Le Bras roast
and dose you, and rub you down with alcohol, to
her heart's content.  That will be a salutary
as well as a sanitary punishment, to begin with.
Since Johnny don't seem to have been much to
blame, except in yielding his judgment that a
place situated on the right could not, in the
nature of things, be found by taking a road
which turned to the left, I think a morning's
imprisonment in bed will suffice for him.  But
as for you, Felix, since you were somewhat
unfair, and considerably reckless, you will have to
pay another penalty, I think.  Young people
under my care and instruction have to pay
penalties for any serious fault of demeanor or
judgment.  But we will have that talk together this
afternoon, and adjust the matter."

The boys laughingly protested against being
sent to bed, but neither Mr. nor Mrs. Le Bras
would let them off.  They went up to their
rooms still laughing and protesting, Johnny
mildly, and Felix quite vociferously, holding his
sides with laughter; while Mrs. Le Bras went to
the kitchen to prepare the hot drinks.  As for
Sue, as soon as she was released from the table,
she had run over to tell the whole story to Julia.

Mr. Le Bras went out, and sat down in the
veranda, accompanied by Pierre.

"This beats all!" he said.  "I wouldn't have
had such a fright for a hundred dollars!  But
there's one thing to be thankful for,—my wife
escaped it: if she had known beforehand, it
would have made her down sick.  Yes! let the
boys go to bed!  There they are, laughing still,
the scamps! and never will know, until they
have children of their own, what I have
suffered since eight o'clock last night!"

"It's the greatest cheat of a time I ever
heard of," said Pierre, sitting down on the
steps, and beginning to laugh as only those can
whose laughter has been long pent up.  "I
didn't want to let the boys know I thought it
was amusing, they were so inclined to treat it
lightly themselves: but, ha, ha, ha!—to think
of all the racing and talking and surmising,
and scouring the country, and dead boys in
ponds, and those youngsters all the time reposing
peacefully right out here in the barn!  Ha,
ha, ha! ho, ho, ho!"

Pierre then told Mr. Le Bras of his dreadful
surmise about the pond by the lighthouse.

"I am thankful I was spared the knowledge
of there being a pond about here!" replied
Mr. Le Bras fervently.

"You see, why they didn't see the house was
because Mary had put all the lamps she could
muster on the west side to help guide me on
my way back from the Point," said Pierre.
"So they must have gone into the barn while
I was off up that way; for, after that, there
were lights in the kitchen, which they couldn't
help but have seen."





.. vspace:: 4

.. _`GOING FOR RUTH`:

.. class:: center large bold

   CHAPTER XI.


.. class:: center medium bold

   GOING FOR RUTH.

.. vspace:: 2

The penalty, added to the morning's
imprisonment; for Felix was that he should
read to Pierre an hour after breakfast every
morning, he having nothing to say as to what
he should read, but Pierre making all the
selections.  Felix tried to get the sentence
commuted to half an hour, but his uncle was
inexorable: he said the prevarication about the
time was a very serious matter, and besides
that, as the evening readings had been given
up for the summer on account of the unpleasantness
of having lamps lighted during the
warm weather, Felix would lose all the progress
he had made in reading, if he did not practise
regularly for some time to come.  As Pierre
began by selecting easy and interesting stories,
however; Felix found, on trial, that he rather
enjoyed his daily penalty than otherwise.  The
readings were carried on in Felix's room, where
there was nothing to divert his attention.

Sue was very anxious to go over in the
dog-cart to see Ruth.  Julia had promised to
accompany her.  Julia had been to the lighthouse
in her father's carriage quite often with friends
from the city, and she was to show Sue the
way around by the village, which, although the
longer way, was much the pleasanter and
smoother road; since, for some time before
reaching the lighthouse, it was within view of
the ocean and of the surf, which dashed high
upon the shore.  Mrs. Le Bras said, if the next
Thursday were pleasant, Sue might go over to
the lighthouse in the morning, and she should
like very much to have her bring Ruth home to
dinner, if her uncle and aunt were willing.
Mrs. Le Bras also said, that, if Ruth could stay until
toward night, she would carry her back herself
in the carriage, as she would like to see the
lighthouse and the ocean-side herself.

Thursday proved to be a very pleasant day,
much to Sue's delight; and Oliver harnessed
the pony into the dog-cart immediately after
breakfast.  Felix and Johnny had planned to
accompany the girls on their bicycles, and
Felix was rather vexed when he found they
were going before his hour with Pierre was
over.  He went to his uncle, and tried to get
off for that morning; but Mr. Le Bras said it
was a bad plan to make any break in what
ought to be a regular custom, unless it were
either very advisable or absolutely necessary,
neither of which was the case in this instance.
Felix then tried to get the girls to change their
plans; but they argued, that, if they waited, it
would bring them back in the heat of the day,
which both Mrs. Le Bras and Julia's mother
wished them to avoid.  As a last resource,
Felix asked Johnny not to go until his hour
was up.  Johnny would have assented to this
good-naturedly, although he rather wanted to
go with the girls, but Julia opposed it
strongly: she said she wanted Johnny to go with
them very much; and she added, naughtily, to
Sue, and so loudly that Felix could hear her,
"I think it will be nicer to have Johnny alone
than to have Felix too.  Felix will be with us
when we come home, and that is enough."

Felix's face grew very red.  "You are the
most disagreeable girl I ever knew, Julia
Peterson!" he said.  "I won't go with you, either
going or coming; and I am not sure I will come
over to the lighthouse while you are there!"

Oliver had just brought the dog-cart around
to the door.  The girls and Johnny were on
the veranda.  Felix had been standing in the
door on his way up to Pierre's room; but
he now ran up-stairs noisily, shouting back,
"Go along with her, Johnny, if you want to!
Perhaps I sha'n't come to the lighthouse at all!"

The girls got into the cart.  Julia was laughing;
and Sue said, "Felix isn't used to being
snubbed, Julia, and I'm awful sorry for him.  If
I were you, Johnny, I'd wait for him."

"But I don't believe he'll come at all, now,"
replied Johnny, looking wistfully at his bicycle,
which was leaning against the veranda.  It was
such a fresh, pleasant morning, and he liked
Julia very much; although he was sorry she
had spoken so to Felix.

"It won't hurt Felix a mite to be snubbed;
it's my opinion it is just what he needs: you
ought to have seen how he teased me last year,
and I always meant to pay him off, if I could
get a good chance; besides, he's too conceited
for any thing," continued Julia.

"I can't help it, anyway," said Sue resignedly,
as she gathered up the reins.  "I suppose
you might as well come, Johnny; for I
shouldn't wonder if Felix would be cross all day,
and make it unpleasant for you if you stay at
home to please him."

Johnny hesitated.

"I'll tell you what I'll do," he said: "I'll
ride over with you, and, if we go pretty fast, I
shall have time to come back again, and see if
Felix is ready to go over."

"If you must try to be so awful obliging,
when he wouldn't think of putting himself out
that way for you," replied Julia.

Felix had stopped in the upper hall, and
looked out of the window over the front-door.
As the window was open, although the blinds
were closed, he heard every word of the
conversation, and was angrier than ever.

"Where are you, Felix?" called out Pierre.
"You are fifteen minutes behind time.  Come!
I shall have to report you if this occurs again."

Felix went into Pierre's room, and took up
his book with a jerk.  "I hate girls!" he said,
"especially that conceited, mean Julia Peterson!"

The dog-cart moved off briskly along the
shell road, with Johnny on his bicycle by its
side.  Johnny was wishing heartily that Felix
was with them, and every thing pleasant as
usual; but as he could not help it, he tried to
enjoy himself, which was not at all difficult.

When they came to the long row of cottages,
some boys were out on the pier fishing.

"What are you catching?" called out Johnny.

"Scup!" shouted back one of the boys.

"Having good luck?" returned Johnny.

"Catch 'em by the pailful," replied another boy.

Johnny then noticed several pails and baskets
by the side of the boys, and that there were
also some strings of fish in sight.  He said he
would go and see the scup, and then rejoin the
girls.

"Scup are of no consequence," said Julia;
"you can catch them as easy as nothing; and
after you have caught them, they are not worth
cooking, if you can get any other fish, because
they are so full of bones."

Johnny rode down on the pier, however, and
looked at the scup.  "They are very handsome
little fish," he said.  "Do you cook all you
catch?"

"Oh!" replied one of the boys, "sometimes
we cook them, and sometimes we throw them
back into the water: I've thrown back almost
all I've caught this morning, because we've
got plenty of better fish at home."

"My mother likes them, if they are bony,
because they are so sweet," said another boy:
"we fry them real crisp, and we like them."

"I don't think it is right to catch them,
unless you can make some use of them,"
remarked Johnny.  "I think I will come down
and catch a few to-morrow, just to try them."

"Say!" remarked the boy who had said he
threw back his fish: "where's Felix Le Bras?
You live up at his cottage, don't you?"

"Yes: I am his cousin.  But he is staying at
home this morning: at least, he is at home now."

Johnny then hurried back to catch up with
the dog-cart.

"Did you know who that boy was you were
talking with?" inquired Julia.

"Which?  The one in a sailor-suit?"

"Yes."

"No."

"That's Jack, the boy who threw stones at
my kitten."

"At his kitten, you mean," said Sue.

"Why, the kitten that's mine now: a kitten
belongs to the folks who can be kind to it."

This peculiar law regarding the ownership
of kittens was new to Sue.  She thought she
would ask her father about it, but she made no
reply to Julia.

"Oh! that's Jack, is it?" said Johnny.  "I
might almost have known it, by his saying he
caught the fish just for the fun of it, and then
threw them back into the water."

"That isn't so bad as about the kitten," replied
Sue; "for, if I were a fish, I would rather
be thrown back in the water, than fried in a
spider."

"But it isn't right," said Johnny; and then
he rode on a little ahead, to escape arguing the
matter further with Sue, who was apt to get
the best of him sometimes, even when she was
on the wrong side.

After reaching the village, they crossed
through it, according to Julia's directions, and
came out into a country road bordered at
intervals with farmhouses.  Shortly they came in
view of the ocean, and soon in full view of the
surf.  The road wound gradually nearer and
nearer the shore, until they were almost at the
lighthouse, and was separated from the
white-sanded beach only by a narrow strip of land
covered with the tall, rank grass which grew
along the shore.  A fresh wind was blowing
from the sea, and the surf washed the rocks at
the base of the lighthouse.  The side of the
keeper's house was almost upon the street;
indeed, it was at a corner; as the road upon
which Felix and Johnny had reached it was in
front, running down to the shore.

"I wish there were lines here," remarked
Johnny, "so we could come over and bathe in
the surf.  Oliver says there is such an undertow
here, it would be unsafe without lines."

A little way up the road which led past the
woods, and on the opposite side from the woods,
a man was at work in a large vegetable garden
which bordered a cornfield.

"There is Mr. Shepard," said Julia: "he is
the lighthouse keeper.  Shall we go and see
him, and ask if we can go up in the lighthouse?
Or shall we call at the house first, and ask to
see Ruth?"

"Let's see Ruth first," replied Sue, "'cause
that's what we came for; and we want to give
our invitation to dinner, so she will have time
to get ready while we are in the lighthouse."

"I don't believe we had better ask to see the
lighthouse, until we come with some grown
persons," said Johnny: "perhaps they won't
want to take that trouble for all the children
who come over."

"But we aren't all the children," replied Julia.

"We haven't any better right to ask than
any other children have; and so, if they let us
go, they might have to let others, or have them
bother by asking," returned Johnny.

"Very well, if you and Sue don't care: I've
been up there so many times, I don't care about
climbing up again; and you can't see any thing
when you get up there, because it's all full of
the lamp."

Johnny laughed at this.  "Why, the lamp is
just what I should go to see.  I've studied about
that kind of lamp, and I want to see one very
much: I want to notice the way the glass is
formed and arranged to collect and refract the
rays, so as to make the most of them in sending
the light out to sea.  But I think I would
rather go up with Pierre or my father, who can
help me understand it better; and besides, if
there is some grown person with me, I can stay
longer, and Mr. Shepard will take more pains
to tell all he knows about it.  Nobody takes
pains to explain things to boys."

"There is a good enough reason for that," said
Julia: "how much would such a boy as Felix or
Jack listen to explanations?  I think you are
a kind of a man, Johnny: you only look like a
boy.  And you don't look so very much like
a boy when you have your glasses on.  I think
I shall call you Professor, as Sue and Felix do."

"It's great if a boy must be called a man
and a professor just because he likes to understand
about matters!  But you just wait till I'm
as tall as my father, and wear a stove-pipe:
then see if you don't notice a difference."

Julia and Sue laughed at this dignified picture
of Johnny as a man.  By that time they had
turned into the other road, and stopped in front
of the keeper's house.

"The house is built right on to the lighthouse,
and is of the very same kind of stone,"
remarked Sue.

"Yes," replied Johnny; "and they can go up
in the lighthouse, Oliver says, without coming
outside; although there is a door, you see, in
the outside.  I wonder what that building off
the other side of the lighthouse is for?"

"That's the place where the steam fog-whistle
is," replied Julia.  "I was over here in a fog
with my father once, and you never heard such
a noise as it made."

"I heard it in the distance the other night,
and it was bad enough at that," said Johnny.
"My father said it was the fog-whistle, but I
didn't know it was here at the lighthouse.  I
must see that, too, and understand about it,
some day, when Pierre can come with me."

They were now standing on the stone steps,
and Johnny found there was a bell in a little
niche at one side of the door.  "Why, here's a
bell!" he said.  "Uncle Sam means to be up
with the times, in his buildings, even if they
are out in the country.  Felix and I pounded
away with both hands the other night."

Just after Johnny rang the bell, the door was
opened by a rather severe-looking young
woman, with sharp gray eyes, and a look that
seemed to say, "Tell your business as soon as
possible, and have done with it."

Obedient to the look, Johnny said at once,
"Can we see Miss Ruth?"

Mrs. Shepard appeared to be astonished.
She looked at the visitors a moment before
replying, and then said,—

"What do you want to see Ruth for?"

"We want to ask if she will come to dinner
over to our cottage, if you and her uncle will
let her," said Sue.

"Where is your cottage?"

"It is Mr. Louis Le Bras' cottage," replied
Johnny.

"You are not Mr. Le Bras' son?"

"I am the son of Mr. Frank Le Bras, who
is staying at the cottage while my uncle Louis
is in Europe.  Felix did not come with us this
morning."

"You can come in, and I will speak to Ruth.
But I don't understand about your wanting her
to come to dinner.  Does your mother wish to
hire a nurse-girl?"

"No, ma'am," replied Sue, as they were
ushered into a room which seemed to be the
parlor, it looked so stiff and dark: "I am the
youngest child."

"Felix and I got acquainted with Ruth the
other night, when we stopped here to inquire
our way," explained Johnny; "and my sister
and this young lady, Julia, who lives in the next
cottage to ours, want to get acquainted with
her; and so my mother wished us to ask if
she could dine with us to-day; my mother
will bring her home in the carriage before dark."

Mrs. Shepard looked very much surprised again.

"I have seen this young lady before," she
said, looking at Julia.

"Yes," replied Julia.  "I was over here quite
often last summer."

"I don't know whether I have any objection
to Ruth's going to your house, or not," said
Mrs. Shepard hesitatingly.  "I wonder at your
mother's asking her.  Of course, she don't know
that Ruth is a poor girl, and is looking for a
place to work out for the summer?"

"Yes," returned Johnny: "we told her about
it.  Ruth told Felix and me she was looking
for a place to take care of children."

"Oh!  Then I presume your mother knows
of some family who would like to employ a girl,
and so wants to find out what kind of a girl she
is.  Ruth is a pretty good girl to do as she is
told, tell your mother, and she's bright and spry:
her worst trouble is that she's a sort of baby,
and cries at every thing and nothing; but I
suppose she'll get over that, when she finds what
sort of a world she is in, and that poor folks
can't be babied.  It's my opinion her mother
humored her almost to death: and my husband
would do the same, if he could have his way;
he hasn't got any government at all: and I've
made up my mind, the sooner Ruth goes among
strangers, the better; it's the only thing that
will make a common-sense woman of her.  You
can tell your mother what I have said, and it
may help to give her a right understanding of
the case.  But tell her Ruth'll make first-rate
help, if the folks are right up and down with
her, as I should be, if it wasn't for my husband."

"Yes, we'll tell my mother all you say,"
replied Johnny very sincerely: he had a vague
idea that Mrs. Shepard was making out a better
case for Ruth than for herself, with such a
warm-hearted woman as Mrs. Le Bras.

Mrs. Shepard then added, as she opened half
of one of the window-blinds a little way,—

"I'll go and tell Ruth to fix herself up, and
she'll be ready before long; that is, if you want
her to go along with you.  She can walk over
just as well, right across."

"Yes, we want her to go with us," returned
Sue: "she and Julia can sit down first, and
there'll be room enough between them on the
seat for me."

"Remember and tell your mother, too,"
continued Mrs. Shepard, "that it won't do to make
too much of Ruth: she's got too many high notions
now.  You see, she's lived in the city, and
been to city schools, and she's got some lofty
ideas in her head: she'd like to believe that
she is as good as other folks, if she is poor and
dependent.  I've done what I could to put her
down; but she's too high-spirited for her
station in life, by a good deal, yet.  However, when
she gets out to work, she'll find her right place
pretty soon, I guess.  The only thing I wish is
that she could get farther away from her uncle.
I'm in hopes, if she gets a place, the family will
want to carry her back to the city with them."

"I'll tell mother all you say," returned Johnny
gravely.  And then, as Mrs. Shepard was
about to leave the room, he added,—

"I think I would like to go outside and wait,
where I can see the surf; and perhaps the girls
would like to go too.  My sister and I have
not been much used to seeing the surf."

"I never saw it in my life before," added
Sue, slipping her hand in Johnny's, while he
walked towards the door, as if in fear that this
imperative-looking woman would close the door
and imprison them in the dark room, where, in
spite of the crack in the shutter, they had but
a dim view of some stiff chairs, a black sofa,
some grim vases on the mantel with dried
grasses in them, and a table against the wall,
upon which were a few forlornly solitary-looking
books, piled in exact order, like prisoners
in rows, as they were.

"Yes: it's ever so much pleasanter out of
doors," said Julia frankly; and the children were
fairly outside the door before Mrs. Shepard
could reply.

"Well, you can stay out in the hot sun, if
you want to; though I should think you would
rather be in this cool room, away from the sun
and flies."

The children went out on the doorstep, and
basked happily in the sunshine, which was so
repugnant to Mrs. Shepard's taste, while that
lady went back into the parlor, and closed the
shutter.

"Suppose we go and tell Mr. Shepard about
Ruth's going home with us," remarked Johnny:
"his wife didn't say any thing about telling
him, but he might like to know."

The girls having assented to this, Johnny
proposed that they should get into the dog-cart,
and drive up to the vegetable garden, so as to
leave the pony in the shade of the trees by the
wood until Ruth made her appearance.  So the
girls got into the cart, and drove slowly towards
Mr. Shepard, while Johnny walked by their
side, having left his bicycle near the doorstep.
Mr. Shepard stopped hoeing when he saw
them coming, and came up close to the stone
wall, which was between him and the road, to
speak with them.

"How do you do, Julia?" he said.  "I see
you have got some new company this summer."

"Yes: they live in Mr. Le Bras' cottage; they
are his brother's children."

"Oh, yes, I know now!  Ruth was a-tellin'
me about the boy: his name is John, and he
came to the house with Felix the other night.
You'd ought to have staid till I got home,
young man: I shouldn't 'a' let you gone off in all
that rain, or I'd a carried you home in my team.
But Ruth she's sort of 'fraid o' doin' somethin
wrong, and so she didn't keep you till I got
there."

"It was just as well; because we had quite
an adventure, on account of trying to find our
own way in the dark."

Johnny got up on the wall, and began to tell
Mr. Shepard about their sleeping in their own
barn; while Sue drove over in the shade, and,
with Julia's assistance, hitched the pony to a
little sapling which grew near.

Mr. Shepard laughed very heartily at Johnny's account.

"Well, that beat all!" he said, as the girls
came over and joined the group.

"So this is your sister, is it, John?"

"Yes, sir, this is Sue.  She came over to ask
a favor of you and Mrs. Shepard."

"She won't have to ask but once of me, then;
I'm mighty fond of little gals: you see, all my
children was boys.  I allers did want a gal
awfully; but I never had none till my poor sister
died, and then Ruth came to live along with me."

Here a rather troubled expression flitted
across Mr. Shepard's face.

"I came over about Ruth," said Sue, climbing
up on the wall, and sitting down on a large
stone at the top, close by Mr. Shepard's elbow.
"I wanted to ask if she could come to our house,
to dinner, and stay till towards night, when my
mother will bring her home in the carriage."

"Is your mother in want of a nus girl?" inquired
Mr. Shepard, looking still soberer than
before.

"Oh, no!" replied Sue: "we just want Ruth
to come for company, so's we can have a real
good time together."

"Well!" said Mr. Shepard, taking off his hat,
wiping his forehead with a large cotton handkerchief,
and looking greatly relieved.  "Does your
mother know about it?"

"Certainly," replied Johnny: "she sent the
invitation; Felix and I told her about Ruth,
and she wants to get acquainted with her."

"Your mother must be a partic'arly nice
woman," returned Mr. Shepard.  "I'd be glad
enough to have Ruth go: she don't have any
too good times here at home."  And then he
added, in an explanatory manner, "You see,
their ain't no children right round here, an' my
wife she ain't over-fond of young folks; and
I'm rather an old playfellow for Ruth myself,
though I try to do the best I can.  I'd be right
glad to have her go along with you: though I
don't know what her aunt'll say; she's a leetle
notional at times."

"Oh! she says she can go," replied Johnny,
"and that she might get ready."

"*Did* she?  Well, now, that's a wonder!  I'm
mighty glad on it!  Ruth hain't got nuthin' but
a caliky dress to wear.  I'd 'a' got her somethin'
a leetle better myself, to wear when she went
away; but my wife didn't think best, and I
dunno much myself about girls' rigs."

"The blue calico will be very pretty, I am
sure," said Sue.  "I want to see it very much,
because she made it herself."

"There it is agin," said Mr. Shepard.  "I
don't think myself that a gal like that is old
enough to make her own dresses; but my wife
she cut it out, and set her about it.  I don't
know how it's come out, though I shouldn't
wonder if the sewin' was better than the
cuttin'.  Ruth's a powerful smart girl, *I* think:
she's handy with every thing she undertakes.
I shouldn't wonder if she could 'a' cut that 'ere
dress better than her aunt did, but 'twont do
to say so.  I was awful anxious that Martha
should take it to a dressmaker."

Just then Julia exclaimed,—

"There she is now, blue dress and all!"

Ruth was just coming out of the house; and
her aunt was talking to her, as if giving her
some very decided directions.  The children
could hear Ruth's last words, as she walked
away from the house, which were, "Yes, ma'am,
I'll be sure and remember."

"Let's go and meet her," said Sue, slipping
from the wall, and walking down the road.
Johnny and Julia followed.  They met Ruth
about half way.

"I'm ever so glad to see you again, Ruth,"
said Johnny: "this is a neighbor of ours, Julia
Peterson; and this is my sister Sue."

"I'm so glad you can go," said Sue, taking
Ruth's hand, and walking along by her.  "I
think your new dress is real pretty.  You must
be awful proud that you made it all yourself."

Although Sue was wholly unconscious of the
fact, she could not have said any thing more
comforting to poor Ruth, who had noticed, with
true feminine observation, as soon as she saw
the girls, how prettily they were dressed.  Sue
wore a handsome red Mother Hubbard, trimmed
with white, and Julia a richly embroidered white
dress.  Ruth's dark blue calico was made very
plain; there was not even a tuck or ruffle on
it: but as she was a very sweet-looking girl,
with bright eyes and deep dimples, and had a
refined, lady-like manner, she looked better in
the plain dress than would have been the case
with a girl of less pleasing appearance.  Her
hair was braided, and tied with a bit of blue
ribbon; and she wore a cheap but becoming
sun-hat, plainly trimmed with blue.

The children all walked back to where
Mr. Shepard was standing.

"I'm glad enough you can go, Ruth," said
her uncle: "I hope you will have a raal good time."

"Thank you," said Ruth, getting up on the
wall to bid him good-by.  She put her arms
around his neck, and kissed him.  He gave her
a good hug, and then looked furtively towards
the house, as if he were afraid his wife would
see them; but, fortunately, Mrs. Shepard was
not in sight, although she came into the parlor
a few moments afterward, and peered out from
between the shutters.

"You'll be a good girl, I know," he said:
"be as perlite as you know how."

"I'm afraid I sha'n't know how very well,"
replied Ruth, a little anxiously.

"I'll resk you!  I'll resk you!" said
Mr. Shepard heartily.  "I'd come and git you, but
this young man says his mother is to bring you
home."

Johnny had gone across the road, and brought
the dog-cart, which was now waiting for its
occupants.

"You get in first, Ruth," said Sue politely.

As Sue seated herself in the middle, and
took up the reins, she said, "Good-by,
Mr. Shepard: we'll take good care of Ruth, and
send her home all safe."

"Thank you," replied Mr. Shepard, brushing
his hand hastily across his eyes.  "Now, you
have as good a time as ever you can, Ruth:
you don't git sich a chance every day, you know."

.. _`"Ruth looked back and smiled at him."`:

.. figure:: images/img-282.jpg
   :figclass: white-space-pre-line
   :align: center
   :alt: "Ruth looked back and smiled at him."

   "Ruth looked back and smiled at him."

Ruth looked back and smiled at him as
the dog-cart moved away.  "Don't you worry,"
she returned.  Evidently there was a good
understanding between Ruth and her uncle,
in spite of the redoubtable Mrs. Shepard.

When they reached the turn in the road,
Johnny, who had run ahead for his bicycle,
joined them.

"You forgot to go back for Felix," said Sue.

"There wasn't time to go back, because we
didn't have to wait for Ruth.  I don't believe
his hour is up yet."

"No," said Julia, looking at a dainty little
gold watch: "it isn't quite a quarter-past nine;
it lacks ten minutes."

Ruth felt so much awed at first, by being in
such fine company, that she said very little,
scarcely more than answering the questions
addressed to her.  But Sue and Johnny paid so
much attention to her, that she soon felt more
at her ease; although she was quite shy of
Julia, whose manner was not quite as cordial
and unconstrained as that of her companions.
The truth was, Julia was considerably puzzled at
the attention which Johnny and Sue paid to the
lighthouse keeper's niece, and this not the less
from her mother having remarked, when she
asked leave to go with them on the errand,
"What can Mrs. Le Bras be thinking of, to
want to invite that poor country girl to spend
the day with her children?  But since she
has, and the Le Bras are such fine people,
I suppose you can go, though I do think it is
queer of her."

When they reached the wharf on the way
back, the boys had disappeared from the pier.
The pavilion, however, was quite filled with
children and their nurses, and groups of boys and
girls were to be seen here and there along the
shore.

"I don't see Jack anywhere," remarked Sue.

"Like enough, he is one of those boys way
down there on the point," said Johnny.  "It's
almost bathing-time now: I should like to see
all the folks in bathing.  We might come down
about eleven."

"Yes, let's!" replied Julia: "it's great fun.
Let's come down in our bathing-suits, and go
in too: it's ever so much more fun where there
are a lot."

"We haven't any bathing-suits yet," said
Sue: "mother's going into town in a day or
two to get us some, and then we can have
great times.  You must come over and bathe
with us, Ruth.  Have you a bathing-suit?"

"No; but I sometimes put on an old dress,
and go a little way into the surf with my uncle."

"I should think you would be afraid," said
Johnny, "on account of the undertow."

"But my uncle is a very good swimmer, and
he only takes me in a very little way.  I hold
tight on to his hand.  Sometimes the surf
knocks me down, but uncle Ethan pulls me
right up again."

"I'm going to begin to learn to swim, first
thing, as soon as I get my bathing-suit," said
Johnny.  "Felix can swim, and he and Oliver
are to show me how."

"I don't see why mamma did not think of
the bathing-dresses before we left home," said Sue.

"Why, don't you remember?  Felix told her
they had a larger variety down this way.  You
see, they don't keep bathing-clothes so much
in inland towns.  I doubt if we could have got
what we wanted at home, without having them made."

They soon came in sight of the Peterson cottage.
Mrs. Peterson was sitting on the veranda
with some fancy-work.  She was a handsome,
finely dressed woman, with a slightly haughty
air.  She and Mrs. Le Bras had exchanged
calls, and the children had been over several
times to visit Julia.  When she saw the
dog-cart coming, she looked quite curiously at
Ruth, and then turned towards a lady visitor,
who came out of the door at that instant, and
said something with a smile.  Of course, the
children did not hear what she said; but it
was, "Don't that country girl, in her dark
calico, look odd with Julia and Sue?  I wonder
what Mrs. Le Bras invited her for!"

"Have you seen Felix, mother?" asked Julia.

"I saw him going down the road with Jack
Billings a while ago."

"Jack Billings!  Jack didn't touch my kitten,
did he?"

"I think not.  They have not been around
our house.  He and Felix were out at the barn,
I think.  Jack had not been up here more than
fifteen minutes or so.  I heard him call out to
Felix, as he went into the yard, that he wanted
him to go down to the Point fishing, with him
and some other boys."

Julia laughed merrily.  "Well!" she said,
"Felix did get mad with me in earnest!"

"You should say vexed, not 'mad,'" corrected
her mother; and the children rode on to
the next cottage.

When Mrs. Le Bras saw them coming, she
came out of the door, and down the steps, to
shake hands with Ruth, and tell her she was
glad to see her.

"And now, my dears," said Mrs. Le Bras,
"you had better go right in out of the hot sun,
for it is getting to be a very warm day.  You
will find some lemonade in the dining-room.
You can play in the parlor or dining-room, or
you can go up in Johnny's or Sue's room.  I
am busy in my room painting this morning;
but by and by, when I get through for to-day,
I will call you in to see how far I have got
with my picture."

"What are you painting?" inquired Johnny,
wheeling his bicycle up against the end of the
veranda.

"I am painting that pretty little bay across
from here, with the fishing and sail boats
anchored in it, and the blue hills behind, and the
sky with the gulls overhead.  I think I will
make your father a birthday present of the
sketch if I can get it done in time: you know
his birthday comes the fifteenth of August."

"Oh!  I 'most forgot!" said Sue.  "I must
be thinking what I will get for him."

"And I too," said Johnny.  "He likes something
we make better than any thing we can
buy.  If I can get a piece of nice wood, I will
whittle a paper-cutter of my own design, and
get mother to show me how to paint something
on it."

Mrs. Le Bras took Ruth's hand, and led her
into the house, talking to her very pleasantly.
She inquired about her uncle and aunt, and
asked her how she liked living by the sea.
Ruth replied in an intelligent, lady-like
manner, although a little bashfully.

Johnny took the dog-cart to the barn, and
told Oliver he would unharness the pony.  But
Oliver said he would see to it, as he was not
busy.

"So Felix went off with Jack Billings fishing?"
said Johnny.

"Yes," replied Oliver, "and I was glad
enough to see them go.  They were round
fooling a while, as if they were up to some
mischief or other.  I was afraid they would disturb
those settin' hens: I heard them making a
great cackling.  They seem to be all right,
though.  I guess the boys were playing
'stumps' in the barn: they were racing and
jumping a good deal.  Felix was in for one
of his high times.  You see, your father's
gone off, and he'll be likely to take advantage.
He appeared more like himself as he used to be
than I've seen him afore, sence he's ben here
this summer.  I tell you, he was a high one last
year!  His own folks couldn't do nothin' at all
with him; and he was mighty sassy to them,
and to Mary and me, you'd better believe,
when he was crossed in any thing, and when
he wasn't crossed, as well.  Your father and
mother have got the upper hand of him
somehow, and I'm mighty glad on it."

"Where has my father gone?"

"He's gone off with Mr. Frothingham, to sail
in his yacht.  Mr. Frothingham came down in
his fast team this morning, and wanted your
father to go with him."

"I thought father told him he couldn't go
just now."

"Well, he said jest for a day, you know; and
your mother said your father could go for a day
jest as well as not, and so he did.  They're
coming home to-night."

"Where did the yacht start from?"

"Mr. Frothingham keeps it at the Harbor:
that's a mile or so this side of town.  You'll
have to go down and see the Harbor, Johnny;
it's a mighty fine place; no end of yachts and
sail-boats and steamboats and schooners and
barges, and all sech craft, passing along by."

"Yes: Felix told me about it.  Couldn't you
take us down in the buggy or carriage some day?"

"Sartin! sartin!  Any time your folks say."

Johnny then went in to join the girls.





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.. _`THE DAY`:

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   CHAPTER XII.


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   THE DAY.

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The children amused themselves happily
in various ways until nearly noon, Julia
remaining; as she, too, had been invited to
dinner.  Mrs. Le Bras had called them in to see
her painting, and also read them a story from a
paper which had arrived by the morning's mail.
Julia at length proposed that they should go
over and sit in the west piazza of her house,
which was shaded by large vines, and was cool
in the middle of the day.  Mrs. Peterson and
her friend were in the parlor, which opened
upon this piazza by two large windows reaching
to the floor; so that, when the windows were
open at the bottom, a person could step through
into the piazza.  The windows were open, but
the blinds were partly closed.  There were
armchairs and rustic seats upon the piazza; and,
after her visitors were seated, Julia said she
would go and get her kitten.

Ruth had been made to feel so much at home
at the Le Bras cottage, that she was now quite
at her ease: she had even forgotten for the
time that she was not dressed as well as her
companions, or that her aunt had made her
promise she would find an opportunity to go
down to the cottages, and see if any one wanted
a nurse-girl, before the day was over.

Just after Julia had gone, Mrs. Peterson
stepped out into the piazza, and spoke to the
children.  Sue introduced Ruth, and told
Mrs. Peterson what a nice time they were having.

"I suppose you will want to come over and
see the children quite often, now," remarked
Mrs. Peterson to Ruth.

"I should like to, if I could," replied Ruth
hesitatingly, and looking a little troubled; "but
I don't know as my aunt will think best.  It is
possible I may get a place down at one of the
cottages, to take care of children.  I must go
down there and see before I go home."

"May I go with you?" asked Sue.

"Yes: I would like to have you, if your
mother is willing."

"Are you acquainted with any other nurse-girls,
Sue?" inquired Mrs. Peterson.

"No, ma'am: I have noticed some of them
when we have ridden past the cottages, but I
didn't see any who were at all like Ruth."

"How do you know they were not like Ruth?"

"Because they laughed loud, and acted rough,
and looked you right in the face, in a kind of
unpleasant way," replied Sue, who, although
she did not know exactly why she was not
prepossessed by the nurse-girls she had seen around
the cottages, was resolved to give as good a
reason as she could.

"I suppose they are nice girls enough, in
their way," said Mrs. Peterson; "but of course
they don't expect to associate with other young
persons about here.  I suppose you know, Ruth,
that, if you are a nurse-girl, you can only go
with your own class: and, besides, you will have
no time to yourself; you will have to be with
the children you take care of, day and night.

"Yes, ma'am," replied Ruth, coloring; "I
know that; but I think it will be pleasanter
than being where there are no children.  I had
younger brothers and sisters at home, and I
used to help take care of them.  I liked it very
much.  I've missed them a good deal."

"How came you to be separated from your
brothers and sisters?"

"My father was dead, and their father was
my step-father.  After our mother died, my
stepfather was married again, and my step-mother
thought it was enough to have my step-father's
children.  So my uncle came and took me,
because I hadn't any own father and mother."

"Oh! that was it?  That was very mixed up.
How old were you when your mother married
again?"

"Six years old.  And my father died when I
was a year old.  He used to live a little way
from here: he was a farmer."

"And what is your step-father's business?"

"He keeps a grocery-store in town."

Just then Julia came back with a very red
face and flashing eyes.

"I can't find my kitten anywhere!" she
exclaimed, in an indignant tone, "and I don't
believe but what Felix Le Bras and Jack Billings
have done something with her!  I believe
they've carried her off!  She always comes
when I call her the least little bit; but I've
called and called, ever so far from the house,
too, and I haven't heard a single mew!"

"Perhaps she has wandered off farther than
usual, and will be back pretty soon," said
Mrs. Peterson soothingly.  "I am sure I should
have noticed if the boys had a cat about them,
when they went past, down the road.  They
walked close by the piazza, where I was sitting
and appeared perfectly innocent and unconcerned."

"I don't care!  She's gone!  And, if they
didn't take her, who has?" returned Julia, sitting
down disconsolately in a large rocker, and
rocking violently back and forth, in an unabated
state of excitement.

At that moment Johnny, who was sitting on
the railing at the end of the piazza, holding to
the corner post, exclaimed,—

"There comes Felix now!  Let's ask him about it."

Julia sprang up, and ran around into the front
piazza.  Sue followed her closely.  Ruth came
and stood by Johnny's side, who said to her, "I
wonder if it is possible Felix has had any thing
to do with the kitten's being missing!  If he
has, I am afraid there will be another penalty
to pay."

"What is a penalty?" asked Ruth.

"Why, if any of us do any thing wrong, my
father has some punishment for us, which he
calls a penalty."

Felix was a little way down the road.  Julia
called out,—

"Felix Le Bras, what have you done with my
kitten?"

"I haven't done any thing with your kitten,"
replied Felix.  But since he laughed as he
spoke, his denial did not have the force that it
might have had if he had looked sober and in
earnest.

"Why, what's the matter about your kitten?
Isn't she all right?  The last time I saw her,
she was right up here by the house," he continued.

"Didn't Jack carry her off?" asked Julia,
looking perplexed.

"No, of course he didn't!  We went fishing.
Do you suppose we wanted a cat for bait?
Look there!"

As he spoke, Felix swung forward a very
respectable string of blackfish, with a long eel
hanging from their midst.  He then ran forward,
brandishing the fish and the swinging eel,
coming right up on the steps where the girls
were standing.  Julia and Sue screamed, ran
back, and got behind Johnny, who was laughing
in spite of his efforts to look dignified.

"Don't you accuse me of carrying off your
kitten!" shouted Felix, swinging the eel
towards Julia.  "I've had enough of your sauce
before now, Miss Julia Peterson."

Felix had not noticed Mrs. Peterson until
now, when she came forward out of the shady
western piazza, saying,—

"No more rudeness, Felix!  Go away with
your eel!—Do you really know nothing about
Julia's kitten?"

"No, ma'am," replied Felix, trying to look
more sober and gentlemanly: "what should I
know about her kitten?—How do you do,
Ruth?—Come along to the house, Johnny, and
help me skin these things in time to have them
cooked for dinner."

Johnny very willingly followed Felix, taking
out and opening his jack-knife as he went.  The
girls brought up the rear, keeping out of the
sweep of Felix's eel; for he was still swinging
his arm vigorously, although with apparent
carelessness.  The carelessness was a pretence,
however; for once, when Julia came a little
nearer, the tail of the eel swung against her
ankle, much to her horror.

"I tell you! but this eel is a slippery fellow! and
if he didn't hold on to the hook!  I had to
pull it out of his mouth by main force, holding
him down with my foot.  Jack showed me how."

The girls shuddered; but Johnny said,
"That's the reason I don't like to catch eels:
it is almost impossible to get the hook out of
their mouths any other way.  I've caught them
in the river, down by my grandfather's."

Soon after the fish were dressed, the dinner-bell
rang.  Mrs. Le Bras left the table after
the first course of the dessert; but the children
sat for some time over the nuts and candy,
chatting merrily.  After dinner they went out
on the veranda, where the awning had been
drawn to keep out the rays of the sun.  There
was a cool breeze from the water; and the waves
curled merrily upon the beach, with a sound
not unlike laughter, as they dashed here and
there against the white bowlders.

Pierre, who had been writing some law-papers
for Mr. Le Bras, in his room, all the morning, was
reclining in the hammock when they came out.
He offered to give up the hammock, but the
children preferred the great comfortable
piazza-chairs.  Pierre had a book in his hand, but he
did not appear to be reading very attentively.

"Shall we disturb your reading, Pierre?"
asked Johnny.

"Oh, no!  I am not reading: I am only playing
at reading.  In fact, I am too tired to read,"
replied Pierre, closing his book: "I think I had
rather hear you children talk."

"I miss my laboratory very much," remarked
Johnny: "I think I will never go away from
home again without bringing my 'Play-Book of
Science,' and some materials for making
experiments.  If I had some of my apparatus and
chemicals here, I could amuse and interest
the girls very much for a while this afternoon."

"Oh, I wish you had!" said Julia.  "I love
to see experiments dearly: I've been to some
lectures where they had them, with my cousin
Ernest, who is at the Philadelphia College of
Pharmacy."

"Is that so?" said Johnny.  "I should like
to know your cousin very much.  Is he coming
to see you this summer?"

"No: he has gone up into the mountains
with his folks."

"What is your 'Play-Book of Science'?"
inquired Pierre.

"You wouldn't think it much of a play-book
if you could see it; it is one of the deepest
books I have; and the experiments are most of
them so elaborate that I haven't been able to
try them yet, and can't until I get a good deal
older.  It is a book my father had when he
was a boy, and goes into philosophy and chemistry
pretty thoroughly.  It is very interesting,
and has four hundred and seventy pictures
illustrating the experiments and principles.
There are over four hundred pages of pretty
fine print."

"Who is the author of it?"

"Professor Pepper."

"Oh, yes!  An English professor.  I know.
It must be an excellent work."

"And I have the 'Play-Book of Metals,' by
the same author."

"Who are the publishers of the books?"

"Routledge & Sons, London."

"I should like to see your laboratory, Johnny,"
said Julia.  "I went into a very large laboratory
with Ernest, once: it was full of bottles and
all sorts of queer things for performing experiments."

"Johnny's would make you laugh, then," said
Felix.  "It's a little room; and all his bottles
are vials, and they're in a small closet."

"But he's learned a lot up in that laboratory,"
said Sue.  "And he can perform ever so many
pretty experiments.  You can make fire burn
under water, can't you, Johnny?"

"Yes: I learned that out of the 'Play-Book.'"

"I don't see how you can make any thing
burn under water," remarked Ruth; "for water
puts out fire."

"Can't you tell, Felix?" asked Johnny.

"How can I tell?"

"You remember about the gunpowder burning
shut up in the holes the men drilled?"

"Yes.  That was because fire is produced by
the oxygen of the air uniting with the carbon
and hydrogen in other substances; and although
the air is shut out in the drill-hole, there is
oxygen in the nitre, which unites with the
sulphur and charcoal."

"Bravo, Felix!" exclaimed Pierre: "you may
be a scholar yet!  I didn't think Johnny had
got you as far as that."

"Oh, yes!  What with Johnny and you and
uncle Frank, I'm getting quite learned, I guess.
Can't you begin to call me professor, girls?"

"Not till you know more than that," said
Sue; "for I know that."

"Felix has got the idea about the fire under
water, I guess," said Johnny.  "You see, I
mix some nitrate of potash, powdered charcoal,
sulphur, and nitrate of strontium, and put it
into a long narrow paper case, tightly closed
with gum.  I set it on fire at the bottom, and
sink it in the water by a piece of lead hung
to it."

"And sometimes the fire is red," said Sue.

"Yes; but I have a different mixture for the
red fire.  You see, Ruth, the reason water puts
out fire is because it shuts out the oxygen by
shutting out the air.  If you can furnish
oxygen to a combustible material under water,
you can burn it under water.  As I put
something in my mixture to furnish oxygen,
I have a fire without any trouble.  But I have
seen a larger laboratory than the one you saw,
Julia."

"Where?"

"Oh!  I've seen one in everyplace I ever was
in.—That's a riddle for you.  See who'll guess
it first."

"No, you haven't seen one in every place
you were ever in; for you haven't seen one
here at the beach?" replied Julia.

"Yes, I have."

"It's some nonsense," said Felix.  "We'll
give it up.  There's no fun in trying to guess
riddles that have a catch in them: you never
can guess them."

"I can see a part of a great laboratory from
where I am sitting," returned Johnny, who was
sitting on the doorstep.  "Or, at least, I can
see a part of one of its distilleries."

Pierre began to smile.

"I can't see any of its great retorts,"
continued Johnny, "nor the furnaces under them,
nor the gas burned as it comes out.  But I can
see a good many of the contrivances for storing
up heat so that it can be kept cool in a very
useful, beautiful form until the heat is needed,
when it can very easily be brought out again
in flames.  And I can see some more of the
stored heat that has gone through a second
process, by which it serves the purpose of slow
combustion, which gives heat and force without
any light."

Pierre began to laugh.  "Can't you guess
the riddle now?" he said.

But the children still looked puzzled.

"Oh!  I haven't been trying to guess," said
Felix: "I think riddles are more trouble than
they are worth."

"There is a good deal of the slow combustion
going on in this veranda," continued
Johnny, "and some of the stored-up force;
though the machines might be made a good
deal more active, if it were not just after
dinner-time, when the fuel that's been put in is
in a pretty compact form, and hasn't begun to
be distributed much.  In an hour or two the
machines may get quite antic."

"He means us, by the machines, don't he?"
said Julia.

"But what do you mean by the great retorts?"
asked Felix.

"And the heat stored up in a cool form?"
added Ruth.

"And the big distillery?" queried Sue.

"I should think you would know about the
big distilleries, yourself, Sue.  Come and sit
here by me, and you can see quite a piece of
one of them."

Sue came and sat down by Johnny.

"Now look right ahead."

"I don't see any thing but the water, and a
blue strip of land beyond."

"And which would the distillery have in it? land
or water?"

"Why, water.—He means the sea."

"I mean the Atlantic Ocean for one of the
distilleries, a part of which I see from here."

"What do you call that a distillery for?"
asked Felix.

"Why, distilling is obtaining a liquor in a
pure form, by vaporizing it, and then cooling
the vapor back into liquid form.  Vapor is
pure liquid: no mineral substances can be taken
up in it.  I have a little apparatus at home for
distilling water.  I can take well-water, which
has mineral substances in it, and obtain the
water quite free from any thing else.  That is
what is going on from the oceans, and, in a
smaller way, from the rivers, lakes, and ponds.
The heat of the sun causes the water, which,
you know, here at the ocean is very salt, and full
of other impurities, to rise in pure vapor, and
form clouds overhead.  The winds carry the
clouds over the land: they become condensed
by cooling, and fall in rain.  The rain, which
is pure water, except for the little particles
of various things floating in the air which it
brings down with it, soaks into the ground,
forming springs, and helps to swell the ponds
and lakes and rivers, and so it gets mineral and
other substances in it again, especially salt,
which is found in small quantities in all
spring-water, and this impure water is carried to the
ocean again to be purified; that is, it is carried
back to the great distillery, to be made into
pure rain-water.  What I can't make out is,
what is to keep the ocean from getting too salt
by and by, since considerable salt is always
coming into it from the rivers.  What do you
think about it, Pierre?"

"There are various ways by which the ocean
gets rid of some of its salt, the most important
of which is the making of salt, by men, out of
salt water; and the natural manufacture, by the
salt water lodging in the rocks, and then
evaporating, and leaving the salt, which is collected
in large quantities.  There may be some way
of its escaping, too, that has not been found
out.  I am pretty sure there is some natural
provision by which the ocean can never become
too salt, as long as the earth is intended for the
home of man."

"I thought the reason why the ocean is salt,
is because there is a great deal of salt in the
bottom, which washes up into the water," remarked Ruth.

"That may be one reason," replied Johnny;
"though the books don't say so.  Don't you
think, Pierre, that a good deal of the salt
may have come from salt deposits under the oceans?"

"I don't see why not.  There is a great
amount of surface under the oceans, and it would
be a wonder if there were not great deposits of
salt there, as well as on the land; although they
must be pretty well covered up by this time, by
ocean deposits."

"But how about those retorts?" asked Felix,
who had seen Johnny's experiment of making a
little retort out of a clay pipe.

"I don't know what a retort is," remarked Julia.

"Nor I," said Ruth.

"A retort is a place where you heat any
combustible very hot, without letting the air get
to it.  Of course, if there is no oxygen at hand,
it can't burn; and so the heat merely causes
the hydrogen to separate from the carbon, in the
form of gas.  They have large retorts at the
gas-works, in which they heat soft coal excluded
from the air; and, you know, the gas that is driven
out is carried through pipes into the houses and
stores, and then, when the gas is allowed to
escape from one of the jets, they light it, and,
because there is oxygen around, it burns steadily
until you shut it off; that is, until you
exclude the air."

"But how about your retorts in your big
laboratory?" asked Felix.

"The largest that I have heard of," continued
Johnny, "is around Pittsburg.  That is in
the soft-coal region.  The heat in the earth has
driven off the gas, or hydrogen, from the coal in
the mines.  Once, when they were boring a well,
some of this pent-up gas, which was where they
happened to be boring, burst out in a kind of
explosion, tearing their boring apparatus all to
pieces, and frightening the workmen pretty
thoroughly.  Afterwards the gas at this hole
got on fire, and burned in a great big jet.  But
it was some time before the Pittsburg folks got
it through their heads that nature had some
monstrous big gas-works under them, so that
they had only to pipe the gas, and bring it into
their houses and manufactories, to get rid of
using the coal that made Pittsburg such a black,
smoky city.  But they found it out after a while;
and now they have not only natural-gas lights,
but gas-fires in their manufactories, so that the
atmosphere is as pure in Pittsburg as in any
other manufacturing city."

"Then, the coal from which the gas came
must be coke," said Felix, "something like that
folks buy at the gas-works, after they have got
the gas out?"

"Yes: it is the carbon of coal without the
hydrogen, and so it does not burn with a flame;
the flame of a fire is the burning of the
hydrogen which escapes from the coal or wood when
it is heated, and its burning, as it rises, makes
the flames that leap up and curve about so
in a fire.  The anthracite coal is coal which
has had most of the hydrogen driven out by heat."

"I wish you would tell us now," said Ruth,
"about the stored-up heat in a cool form.  I've
been wondering about that most of all."

"You know plants can't grow without sunlight, Ruth?"

"Yes; that is, I know that if they don't have
sunlight, they will grow very white, as they do
when they are in a cellar."

"If the cellar were perfectly cold and dark,
they would not grow at all; but they grow, as
you have seen them, because there is some
sunlight and sunheat, even in a cellar.  The
heat of the sun causes the plants to grow by
taking in carbon from the air, and hydrogen
from the water in the earth, and in rain and
dew, and so the carbon and hydrogen are
gradually stored up in the plants and trees; of
course, there is the largest quantity in trees,
because they grow large and solid.  And it has
been proved that you can get just as much heat
by burning these things afterwards, that is,
making the carbon and hydrogen unite with the
oxygen from which they had been taken away,
as there was heat of the sun expended in the
process of their growing, or gathering up carbon
and hydrogen."

"I remember about your telling that before,
at the doctor's when I hurt my head; but I don't
see how they ever proved it," said Felix.

"You could understand by studying it up.
I have books that tell how it was proved.  So,
you see, it amounts to this,—that the heat from
the sun is stored up some way, in the things
that have grown out of the earth; and the very
amount of heat stored, without a particle of
waste, can be got out of the combustible a
thousand or more years after it was bottled up in
that way."

"Not a thousand years!" exclaimed Julia.
"Trees don't live to be a thousand years old."

"Yes,—the big trees of California," said Ruth.

"That's so," said Johnny; "but I was thinking
of the coal mines which are old, buried
forests packed hard under ground, where the
stored heat has been preserved so long, and
will be preserved for no one knows how many
hundreds and thousands of years to come."

"But it will get used up sometime, and all
the forests get cut off: I've heard my father
say so," said Felix.

"I suppose so; but by that time we shall
have found out how to burn water."

"To burn water!" exclaimed all but Pierre.

"Yes.  They can burn water now, only the
process is too expensive; but by that time they
will have found some very cheap way.  That is
what the scientific men are pretty certain of.
Water is composed of hydrogen and oxygen;
and, you see, hydrogen is very inflammable,
being what we burn for gas, and that which burns
in a fire to make the flame, while oxygen is the
very gas it must have in order to burn."

"Then, I don't see why water isn't very
inflammable indeed," said Felix wonderingly.
"I wonder the oceans and rivers and lakes
haven't burned up and set all the rest of the
world on fire."

"Why, you see, the hydrogen in water won't
unite with the oxygen in the air, because it has
all the oxygen it wants already.  It has got to
be separated from the oxygen it has, before it
will be ready to take in oxygen, and so cause fire."

"Oh!" said Felix.  "But I shouldn't think
it would be so hard to get it away from its
oxygen."

"It is, though," said Johnny; "for hydrogen
and oxygen have a very great liking, or affinity,
for each other."

"I should think, then," said Felix musingly,
"if water is composed of hydrogen and oxygen,
that, when hydrogen combines with oxygen in
the burning of gas or a common fire, they
would form water."

"So they do," said Johnny.

"Oh, no, they don't!" exclaimed Julia.

"Yes; although you do not notice it, because
the water is in the form of a fine vapor
which passes off through the air.  But I could
prove to you, if you were in my laboratory, that
the flame of even a little taper produces water.
I have performed that experiment a good many
times."

"Yes, he has," said Sue; "I've seen him:
the water settles on the glass, just as if you
had breathed on it."

"And it can be done so that the drops will
trickle down the sides of the receiver," said
Johnny.

"But how about the slow combustion going
on in this veranda, Johnny?" asked Sue.

"Slow combustion goes on in animals.
They eat the plants in which the sun has
stored up heat, or other animals whose bodies
have been formed out of the stored heat in
plants, and the carbon and hydrogen go into
their blood, and are carried by the blood to the
lungs, where they come in contact with the
oxygen of the air, under a moderate heat, to
make more heat, by uniting with the oxygen
to form carbonic-acid gas, which is breathed out
into the air to help furnish carbon for the
plants."

"But there are no animals in this veranda,
except a few flies," said Julia.

"Oh, yes!" said Sue.  "There's you and I,
and Johnny and Felix, and Ruth and Pierre!"

"I am not an animal!" exclaimed Julia
indignantly.  "Am I, Johnny?"

"The part of us that dies is animal," replied
Johnny, "just as much as Clyde or these flies
are animals."

"No," persisted Julia: "we are folks."

"Our bodies are the highest kind of animals,"
said Johnny, smiling.  "You and Ruth
are very good-looking animals."

"That's a pretty compliment!" exclaimed
Julia.  "Now I have been called an animal, I
have a mind to go right home.  At any rate,
I am going home to see if I can find my kitten.
If she is coming back at all, I am sure she has
come by this time."

"Let me go with you," said Felix mischievously.

"No, you don't!  But Sue can go."

"You come, too, Ruth," said Sue.

"No, thank you," replied Ruth.  "I think I
ought to be going down to the cottages by this
time: I will ask your mother to excuse me a
little while, while I go to inquire if any one
wants to hire a children's maid."

"I think I'll go up with Ruth to see mamma,
then," said Sue, "for I am to go down to the
cottages with Ruth."

"Why, they'll think you want to hire out,
too, Sue," replied Julia.

"I don't care if they do.  Come, Ruth."

Sue took Ruth's hand, and they went upstairs,
while Julia ran home to find the kitten.
By this time, Pierre had fallen asleep in the
hammock.

"I guess, while the girls are gone, I'll go out
and pick some huckleberries for supper, father
is so fond of them," said Johnny; "and Katie
says we haven't more than half enough.  She
wanted us all to pick some; but it was too
warm after dinner, and I don't believe the girls
will be back in time.  It is getting cool now,
because there is such a breeze."

"I'll bet there'll be a storm before long,"
replied Felix, looking at the sky.  "But it's too
stupid picking berries!  Can't we do something
else?"

"Perhaps you can, but I promised Katie,"
replied Johnny, going to the kitchen for a tin
pail.  As Felix did not want to be left alone, and
could not think of any thing better to do, he
followed Johnny to the huckleberry pasture behind
the house, with a tin cup in his hand.  "It is
easier to pick in a cup than in a pail," he said.

"Why?" asked Johnny.

"Because it fills up sooner, and that is encouraging."

Pretty soon the boys saw Oliver harnessing
the dog-cart; and, a little after, Julia came out
into the pasture with a pail, saying she could
not find the kitten, and she fully believed Jack
had carried it off, whether Felix knew about it
or not.

"He hasn't done any such thing!" returned
Felix: "he couldn't have taken it without my
seeing it, and I am positively certain he had
no kitten with him when we went down the road."

The dog-cart was brought around to the
door, and Sue and Ruth drove down to the row
of cottages.  When they reached the first
cottage, Ruth got out, and inquired at the door if
they would like to hire a nurse-girl.  Sue drove
to the pavilion, and then, having hitched the
pony, joined Ruth in the tour of inquiry.  In
the whole row of cottages, they found only
one where a girl was wanted: this was a
neat yellow cottage with red blinds, which was
set quite a way back from the beach.  There
were a number of children playing about the
piazzas.  They seemed fretful and quarrelsome;
and when Ruth asked one of the little girls
what her name was, she replied, "None of
your business!"  The lady of the house was a
short, fleshy woman, with a good many rings on
her fingers.  She looked at Ruth coolly from
head to foot, asking her a good many questions,
especially in regard to her references.

"My uncle keeps the lighthouse, ma'am, and
he'll come down and tell you about me."

"But I don't know any thing about the lighthouse
keeper.  And if he is your uncle, of
course he will recommend you."

"My mother will tell you what a nice girl
she is," said Sue.

"And who is your mother?"

"She's Mrs. Le Bras."

"That lives in Mr. Louis Le Bras' cottage
this season?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Very well, that will do: I will try to come
up and see Mrs. Le Bras, to-morrow or next day."

After the cottages had all been visited, and
they were walking back to the dog-cart, Sue
said,—

"I did not like that woman with the rings at all."

"I didn't think the children were well behaved,
either," replied Ruth soberly; "but then,
I don't suppose there could be a place just
right, perhaps, and they are the only family
that want a girl: and if I change my mind about
wanting to hire out, I am afraid my aunt won't
like it at all; though my uncle will be glad."

"I wouldn't go there, anyhow," said Sue;
"folks are moving out and in these cottages
almost every week, Oliver says, and there may
be some nice family who will want a girl before
long.  But I think it will be nicer to stay with
your uncle, and then we can visit back and forth,
and have good times.  If you get hired, they
won't let you visit, or any one come to see you."

"I'm afraid my aunt won't let me visit, or
have any one come to see me, either," replied
Ruth, wiping a tear from her eye: "she wouldn't
have let me come over here to-day, if she hadn't
thought that maybe it would help me get a
place to work."

"I don't think she is nice at all!" exclaimed Sue.

Ruth made no reply.

"Why! how awful dark and windy it's getting!"
said Sue: "I guess we'll have to hurry
home, or we'll get caught in the rain."

Ruth had been so taken up with sober
thoughts, that she had not noticed the change
in the weather; but she and Sue now hastened
their steps, and were soon driving home as fast
as the pony seemed willing to take them, which
was at a rather moderate trot.

They had gone but a little distance, before
there was a rumbling of thunder, and some
large drops flew in their faces.

"I'm awful 'fraid we can't get home before it
comes right down; and I'm kind of 'fraid of
thunder, aren't you?" said Sue.  "I do wish
I'd brought that whip!"

"I am not afraid of thunder or lightning,"
replied Ruth encouragingly.  "My uncle and
I sometimes go up into the lighthouse to
see the lightning: it is better than fireworks."

There was a team driving very fast behind
them.  Sue turned to one side to give it plenty
of room.

"Hallo, youngsters!" said a familiar voice.

"Why, papa!" exclaimed Sue.

The carriage with the two gentlemen stopped.

"Hold on, Sue!" said Mr. Le Bras.

Sue stopped.

"They must get in with us, and let the pony
shift for himself; since he will never get there
before the shower," said a hearty voice that
Sue did not recognize.  She looked up just as
the light buggy stopped at the side of the
dog-cart, and saw a large, fine-looking gentleman in
the buggy with her father.  He was holding the
reins.  He and Mr. Le Bras quite filled up the
narrow seat of the light vehicle.  "Hand 'em
over," continued the gentleman, as Mr. Le Bras
alighted.

Mr. Le Bras helped Ruth out first, and put
her in the buggy.  The stout gentleman took
her on his knees, and gave her a hug.

"Well, my dear!" said he, "we'll save you
from a wetting, if possible."  Mr. Le Bras put
Sue in, and, after tying the reins over the pony's
back, slapped him, and told him to hurry up.
The pony jogged on at a very little faster pace;
while Mr. Le Bras got into the buggy, and took
Sue in his lap.  Mr. Frothingham started the
fast horse.  They left the pony behind them.
The drops came thicker and faster, a flash of
lightning half blinded them; but they reached
the house just as the storm came on in its fury,
with thunder and lightning, and pelting rain.
The pony was far behind, coolly making his
way at his ordinary jog-trot, like a sedate
philosopher.  Oliver took Mr. Frothingham's team
to the barn, and gave the horse some oats.
Mr. Le Bras ushered his guest into the parlor.
Mr. Frothingham followed him, leading Ruth and
Sue by the hand.

"So you are the lighthouse keeper's niece?"
he said to Ruth, as he seated himself in the
great arm-chair, which Mr. Le Bras drew
forward for him, and took a girl on each knee:
"why, I've played with him many a time, when
we were barefooted boys together."

"You!" exclaimed Ruth.

"You don't mean that you were ever a bare-footed
boy, and lived about here?" exclaimed
Sue, equally astonished.

"Why not, now?" replied Mr. Frothingham
laughing; while Mr. Le Bras went up-stairs to
ask his wife to come down and see their guest.

"Because," said Sue, "you're all dressed up,
and wear a diamond pin.  And aren't you the
man that lives up in the big cottage, and that
Felix says is a millionnaire, with more money
than he knows what to do with?"

"That may all be true, my dear: but you
know we live in America, where a barefooted
boy may have as good a chance as any man,
and perhaps better; because, you see, if I
hadn't been a barefooted boy, who knew how
to work and how to save, as very few do know
how except poor men's children, I might never
have been able to wear a diamond pin,—though
that isn't of much consequence,—or build a
cottage by the grand old sea, and have time to
come and spend a summer in enjoying nature,
when I am getting to be too old and heavy to
want to work as hard as a young man can."

When Mrs. Le Bras came down, she, too, was
surprised to learn that Mr. Frothingham had
been born in that neighborhood, and had lived
there until he was almost a young man.

"Certainly," said Mr. Frothingham.  "I
was born in a little brown farmhouse over
towards the quarry: my father was the minister
of the church over on the hill.  He had a very
small salary, and the farm helped support us."

"The white meeting-house with green
blinds?" asked Felix; for he and Johnny had
come in to see Mr. Frothingham.

"The very same, my boy: only it has been
repainted and repaired inside, since my day.
This little girl's grandfather was a near
neighbor of ours, and one of my father's best
parishioners.  He was a very honest, kind-hearted,
straightforward man; and his wife was a very
dear friend of my mother's.  Ethan was the
oldest of the family, and worked hard, from the
time he was big enough to handle a hoe; he
had the hardest time of any of the children,
and didn't get the schooling the others did;
but that was partly because he was so
ambitious about working, that he would not stop to
go to school.  It was a mistake, but he meant
it all right; and he's helped his folks, and been
an industrious, saving man.  As for this little
girl's mother,—and she looks just like her,—how
well I remember Lucy! she was always
one of the best scholars in school: we were in
the same class.  I saw her nearly every day of
my life, and never too often, until I went to the
city.  When I came back, and found she was
married to a nice young farmer here, I was a
good deal taken back, for a while.—You see, it
was my love for the old scenes that made me
build a cottage here.  When a man gets along
in life, he likes to come back to the place
where he was born: no other place can be
quite so dear.  I hoped once to have my
children spend half of every year where I passed
my childhood; but they are both gone.  Mary,
a girl of about Ruth's size, died over a year
ago, and my wife hasn't been like herself since.
Our boy died before the cottage was finished,
and Mary only spent one season here."

"I am so sorry for you and your wife," said
Mrs. Le Bras: "I don't know what I should do
without my children."

"I have been telling Mr. Frothingham what
I should do," remarked Mr. Le Bras.

"Yes," said Mr. Frothingham; "but, as I
said in reply, there are some objections."

At that moment, the tea-bell rang; and, as it
was still raining, Mr. Frothingham was
persuaded to go out to tea with them.

"How came you home so early, father?"
asked Johnny.  "Mother thought you wouldn't
be back until in the evening."

"We saw the squall coming up," replied Mr. Le
Bras; "and I told Mr. Frothingham, as your
mother was so timid, I thought, as we were not
far out, we had better put in before the storm."

"I am so thankful you did," said Mrs. Le
Bras: "I should have been worried; I have
heard of so many accidents to yachts lately."

"Mine is not one of that kind, and I have a
very expert man to sail it," replied Mr. Frothingham;
"but I never like to have a lady unhappy
if I can help it, and so I made for land
as soon as your husband told me how easily
you are frightened."

It stopped raining about the time tea was over,
but still looked dark and lowering.  Mrs. Le
Bras said she must take Ruth home, according
to her promise; or, if the gentlemen thought it
would rain again, she would send her with
Oliver, and call on her uncle and aunt some
pleasant day herself.

"Why, I can take the child home, with my
fast horse, without danger of getting caught in
the next shower," replied Mr. Frothingham.
"I would like to see Ethan too: I haven't been
over to the lighthouse yet this season, for a
wonder, or I should have known of his good
luck in getting possession of Lucy's girl."

So it was concluded that Ruth should go
with Mr. Frothingham.  Oliver brought the
team around; and after the children had said
good-by, and that Ruth must come again soon,
Mr. Frothingham put her in the buggy, got in
himself, and drove off, taking the road across
to the shore, to be ahead of the rain that
seemed threatening.  He talked sociably and
kindly and interestingly all the way; and Ruth
almost forgot it was a great man by her side
instead of a boy of about her own age, he
laughed so heartily, and took a child's view of
things so easily.  The fact was, Mr. Frothingham
was one of those men who never wholly
outgrow their childhood: he could feel like a
boy after he was a middle-aged man.

When they reached the lighthouse,
Mr. Shepard, who had seen them coming, was
standing on the doorstep to welcome them.

"How do you do, Ethan?" said Mr. Frothingham,
grasping Mr. Shepard's hand warmly.

"How d'y' do, Henry?" replied Mr. Shepard
as heartily; "so it's you that have brought
home that gal of mine!  Glad enough to see you."

Mr. Shepard led the way into the parlor, and
threw open all the window-blinds in a hurry.

"I can't see what wimmin want to keep out
all the daylight for," he said; "but that's
Martha's way.—You go tell yer aunt there's a
friend of mine here, Ruth, an' I'd like to
introduce her."

Ruth went to tell her aunt, and Mr. Shepard
continued,—

"I b'lieve you ha'n't seen my new wife yet?"

"No.  I hope you've drawn a prize in the
lottery, Ethan."

"Wall, I don't know what I've drawn; somethin',
that's sure."  Here Mr. Shepard looked
ominously sober.  "The wust thing I've found
out yet is that she's plaguey jealous."

"Jealous!" exclaimed Mr. Frothingham, in
astonishment.  "Why, it can't be possible,
Ethan.  You are not the kind of a man to give
a woman the slightest excuse for jealousy."

"Wall, you see how't is, Henry: she's jealous
of that pretty little niece of mine."

"Jealous of that dear little girl!" exclaimed
Mr. Frothingham, in astonishment.

"Well, yes.  I s'pose it's kind o' nat'ral,
perhaps, bein' as she's jest married, or not onto
a year yet, that she might want to be the only
person of consequence 'round: that's what
they tell me.  But as my fust wife wasn't like
that, I wasn't a-lookin' for it in another
woman."

"I see!" replied Mr. Frothingham gravely:
"she don't treat Ruth badly, does she?"

"Well, no; she don't do that exactly; she
knows 'twouldn't be safe; but there's ways of
making a child mighty on comfortable, I find,
without out and out abusin' her."

"Exactly."

"You see, it's plain enough to Ruth that she
don't want her here, and she isn't pleasant with
her like; and so the gal is lonely and homesick.
There was a lot of children at home,—and Lucy
was mighty pleasant, you know."

"Yes, yes!  Lucy was a gem!"

"Well, losing her mother and all, and it
bein' sech a change here with Martha, it's putty
hard on her; and she's took it inter her head,
and my wife she's pressed the matter, that she'd
ruther go and take care of children in some
pleasant family than live here at the lighthouse.
I thought as how you'd find out pretty soon,
an' I might as well tell you fust as last what
it means.  You know well enough that it an't
like me to let my own sister's child, and sech a
sister as Lucy was, go out to work if I could
help it; but I ha'n't no home but this to give
her, and if she'd ruther go somewheres else,—and
I can't blame her none,—why, I don't want
to stand in her way; and so I haven't said she
couldn't go, if she can find a good place; though
I do feel mighty bad about it, all 'round."

"This is very serious, Ethan.  I'm sorry
enough for you.  We must see what can be
done.  There's always more than one way out
of a difficulty, if we set to work to find it."

"I thought, the minute I saw you coming
a-bringing Ruth, that you were the very man to
go to for advice.  If she must go out to work,
perhaps you'd know of some good family where
she'd be kind o' treated like one of the family,
and not put upon.  She's a mighty smart gal
to work, neat and orderly, jest like her mother,
for all the world, and she's got her nice pretty
ways about her; she's handy with a needle too;
and sech a hand for books and papers!  She's
a mighty smart scholar, so they say, those that
knew her in town."

Just then Mrs. Shepard came in, with her
best dress on, to see the great millionnaire, whom
her husband had the honor to be acquainted
with.  She appeared at her very best, seeming
quite amiable, and did not even remind her
husband that he had let all the flies into the room,
and it would take her half a day to get them out
again.  Mr. Frothingham was very polite to
her.  She thought him a very charming gentleman
indeed.  As he rose to go, he said,—

"I must say good-by to Ruth, of course:
we are old friends now."

"Oh! she's got on her common dress, and
won't want to come in," replied Mrs. Shepard.
"I'll tell her you left a good-by."

"I never leave my good-bys, with children
of her age, anywhere but on their lips, if I can
help it," replied Mr. Frothingham.  "I've had
children of my own, Mrs. Shepard, and I'm very
fond of all children for their sakes, if for no
other reason; though I think I'm naturally fond
of young folks."

Mr. Shepard had left the room as soon as
Mr. Frothingham asked for Ruth; and he now
entered, leading her by the hard.

"Here she is, Henry," he said.  "Isn't she
lots like Lucy now?"

"That she is," replied Mr. Frothingham, kissing
her.  "Good-by, my little friend.  I sha'n't
let you forget me, though; for I shall be over
to the lighthouse pretty often, and I'm going
to bring my wife with me next time.  She is
very fond of little girls."

Before Mrs. Shepard could recover from her
astonishment at this demonstration regarding
Ruth, Mr. Frothingham was in his buggy, and
driving homewards very fast, over the road by
which Felix and Johnny had come to the lighthouse
that evening, which was the nearest way
to the great cottage.  The sky was very dark,
and there were more mutterings of thunder.





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.. _`GOING TO THE HARBOR`:

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   CHAPTER XIII.


.. class:: center medium bold

   GOING TO THE HARBOR.

.. vspace:: 2

Mr. Le Bras told Pierre that a friend
of Mr. Frothingham, who was a guest at
the large hotel at the Harbor, had gone out with
them in the yacht, and had stated, incidentally,
that he was anxious to find some good teacher
of German to instruct his son in that language;
since the young man was to travel in Germany
in the fall, and it would be an advantage to
know something about the language to begin
with.  He said he had spoken of Pierre, and
recommended him; and the gentleman was
anxious that he should come down to the hotel the
next day, and hold an interview with himself
and his son.  Pierre was much pleased: he
understood the German language as well as he
understood English, and this would give him
an opportunity to earn something during
vacation.  Mr. Le Bras said they would go down to
the Harbor, then, in the morning, and Mrs. Le
Bras and the children could go too, if they
wished.  Mrs. Le Bras replied that she had
other plans for the next morning, and the children
could ask Julia in her place, if they liked.
The invitation was, accordingly, given to Julia,
much to her delight.  She said she liked to go
to the hotel, it was such a gay place, and her
mother always let her wear her best clothes
when she went there.

They started the next morning about ten.
Mr. Le Bras said they would not be home to
dinner, but would dine at the hotel, so as to
spend the afternoon, and give the children a
good chance to see all the sights at the Harbor.
He should go into town on business in the
afternoon, and if the children and Pierre
preferred to go with him rather than remain at the
Harbor, they could do so.

Julia was dressed very handsomely, and wore
a diamond ring, which shone brightly through
her delicate, colored mitts.

"I wish Ruth was with us too," said Sue, as
the horses pranced off down the shell road.

"What! in that blue calico?" replied Julia,
laughing.

Sue, thus reminded, thought, herself, the
blue calico would look rather odd in the fine
carriage, by the side of their best clothes; and
yet, somehow, it didn't seem as though it
ought to, since the blue calico was the best
dress Ruth had, and it was not her fault that
she could not dress as well as they did.

"She's a real nice girl, anyhow," said Sue,
"and just as good as we are,—if not better."

"It don't make any difference about her being
good," returned Felix: "rich folks are rich
folks, and poor folks are poor folks, and they
can't go together."

"Yes, they can," returned Sue: "we went
together yesterday, and had a real good time."

"I mean they can't go together and take
dinner at a big hotel: they can't go together
where folks have to be dressed up and look smart."

"I think it's too bad, anyhow," said Sue emphatically.

"So do I!" said Johnny.  "I guess that's
the reason folks don't like to be poor: they
can't have as good times as rich folks, and they
have to be looked down upon.  I shouldn't
like to be poor."

"I am poor, and yet I have a pretty good
time, Johnny," remarked Pierre.

"And you and I are not rich, my son, and
yet we manage to be pretty cheerful," added
Mr. Le Bras.

"But we're not so very poor," replied Johnny:
"Pierre dresses well, and so do we, and no
one would think of calling us poor."

"Then, it is about as good as if we were
rich," said Mr. Le Bras; "and perhaps it is
better, though we are not apt to think so.  It
is my opinion that Pierre enjoys that new suit
of his far more for having had to work hard in
my office to earn it; and I don't enjoy seeing
you and Sue in your best clothes any the less,
because I have had to do some writing and
talking in my office, or some speech-making in
court, to purchase them.  I cannot have just the
kind of enjoyment Mr. Frothingham has in his
fine yacht; but perhaps I manage to have just
as good a time some other way, even when I do
not have the advantage of your uncle's cottage
by the sea.  You and I have had pretty good
times, before this summer, Johnny."

"Oh, yes!" said Johnny.  "I think we have
grand times at home."

"And often with nothing more costly than a
book out of a free library.  Don't go to having
the dreary thought that persons who are not
rich cannot enjoy themselves; for if that were
so, the great portion of the people in the world
would be miserable, and that would be a sad
thing to think of.  I shouldn't wonder if Ruth
were enjoying herself in some way over at the
lighthouse, as much as we are here in the carriage."

"I don't believe she is," said Sue; "because
her mother is dead, and her aunt don't like to
have her stay there."

"But that isn't because she is poor.  If her
own mother were there, she might be happy."

"Oh, yes!  I could be real happy there, myself,
seeing the waves, and hearing them clash,
if you and mamma and Johnny were there; and
it wouldn't make any difference if I had on my
very worst dress."

"Wouldn't you be just a little happier if you
had on a diamond ring like Julia's?" asked
Felix quizzically.

"Perhaps I should for a little while; but I
would rather papa should have a diamond pin
like Mr. Frothingham's.  Didn't it shine beautifully?"

"A diamond is nothing but carbon," remarked
Johnny; "and charcoal is carbon too.  I will
give papa a piece of charcoal to wear."

"Ho, ho!" laughed Felix: "that's a yarn!
A diamond is just as different from charcoal as
possible!"

"How?" asked Johnny.

"Why, it's white, and charcoal is black; it's
transparent, and charcoal isn't; it won't rub
off, and charcoal will; it won't burn up like
charcoal, and it's worth no end of times more."

"But they are both carbon just the same;
and those lozenges you are eating are principally
carbon, too, although they are a good
deal whiter than charcoal.  You haven't any
idea how much charcoal you are eating, when
you eat sugar or candy.  There isn't any
particular difference between the whitest of sugar
and charcoal, except that the particles are so
arranged as to reflect or absorb light differently.
I can take a handful of white sugar, and, by
putting in something to change the arrangement
of the particles, make it look as much
like charcoal as it is, just as black as your
boot, and spread out into a great deal larger
space than it occupied before."

"Yes, he can," said Sue: "I've seen him do it."

"Well, I'd like to see him do it, before I
believe it."

"I'll do it when we get home, to-night, if
you will give me five cents, and papa will get
me some acid to do it with, when he goes into
town.  The kind of acid I want will cost five cents."

"All right! here's your five cents," replied
Felix, taking the amount from his pocket-book.

"After you have seen it proved that sugar is
like charcoal, perhaps you can believe more
easily that a diamond is.  The particles of
carbon in a diamond are packed very closely
together, and in such a way as to reflect the rays
of light beautifully, and separate them like a
prism, when it is cut right.  It is so hard, that
it is not easy to burn it,—that is, to separate the
particles by heat, and make them combine with
the oxygen in the air,—but it will burn up if
subjected to very strong heat indeed.  There's
no danger of your diamond burning up, though,
Julia, even though you should drop it into the
fire by accident; for a fire in a stove wouldn't
be hot enough."

"I'm glad of that," replied Julia.

"I don't see as chemistry does so very much
good," remarked Felix: "it only tells you about
things; it don't make any thing."

"O Felix!" exclaimed Johnny: "there are
hardly any of the arts that can be carried on
without chemicals, or things chemists have
learned how to make; and some of the most
useful discoveries in the world have been made
by chemists."

"Tell him about the way they learned how
to make Bessemer steel out of common iron, as
an example, Johnny," said Pierre.

"Well.  You see, Felix, they can't make
Bessemer steel out of iron that has much
phosphorus in it; and most of the iron in the world
has a good deal of phosphorus in it; and about
all in our country and England has.  So the
English had to buy the pure iron in Spain, or
some other country, and bring it over at a great
cost, to make Bessemer steel of."

"Why didn't they take the phosphorus out
of the iron?"

"Ah! that's just it!  They didn't know how.
They studied and studied to do that very thing;
for if they could find an easy way to get the
phosphorus out, they could make railway steel
out of their own iron, and stop buying of Europe.
Mr. Thomas, a young English chemist, did not
believe what other folks said, who had tried
experiments to get phosphorus out of iron: they
said it could not be driven out by heat.  So he
and a friend of his set to work, with a little
kettle, to try again.  When iron ore is melted,
the phosphorus has such an affinity for iron,
that it will leave the stone, and go into the
iron; or if there is any in the coal or
limestone used, it will leave either of them to get
into the iron.  But Mr. Thomas and his friend
found by experiment, that although the
phosphorus had a greater affinity for iron than any
thing else up to a very high temperature, yet,
if the iron was heated up to twenty-five hundred
degrees, it would leave the iron to go into
limestone; and you must keep it at that heat until
the limestone with the phosphorus in it was
drawn off from the iron, or the phosphorus
will go right back to the iron again.  So, by a
patent process which Mr. Thomas and Mr. Gilchrist
invented, one of the principal things
about which is the putting of a quantity of
limestone into the furnace with the iron ore, as a
bait to attract the phosphorus when it is heated
to twenty-five hundred degrees, they can get
pure iron in England out of very common ore,
and so sell us railroad-steel a good deal cheaper
than we can make it; and England does not
have to send to Spain and other countries now,
as it used to, for iron that has no phosphorus in it."

"That is a pretty good story, Prof.  Tell us
some more chemistry stories."

"No," said Mr. Le Bras: "we can't have
Johnny teaching all the way to the Harbor.
And you, young man, must begin to look up
information in books, as Johnny has, without
always troubling some one to tell you; and then
you can begin to inform others of some things,
and not always take the place of a learner.
Pierre, you must begin to put this young man
into a solid course of reading, where he will be
gaining some information of value by his own
efforts.  Isn't he out of stories yet?—that is,
don't he read any thing else?"

"I was intending to ask you pretty soon,"
replied Pierre, "if I hadn't better go into town
and see if I can find some book of information.
I have begun to have him read items of importance
in the papers, but there is no suitable
book at the cottage."

"Get him a book to-day, any thing you
please, and I will foot the bill."

"Don't get me any thing awful dry, will you,
Pierre?" said Felix.  "If you do, I shall just
read it without knowing a word I have read."

"I'll see to that.  Perhaps I shall have to
send to New York for what I want.  But I
think I can fix you, sir.  I don't mean that you
shall forget any thing you read that is worth
remembering, even if I have to catechise you
every day about it."

"Well, anyhow, I don't have to read but an
hour a day," returned Felix; "and I guess I can
stand it a while longer."

"That is all put on," said Pierre to Mr. Le
Bras, in a low tone: "he is beginning to like
his hour of reading in the morning; he told
me so yesterday."

"And does he keep on improving?"

"Oh, yes! he is doing finely."

Before long, they reached the harbor, which
was the broad mouth of a beautiful river.
There was a white, sandy beach, with long
rows of bathing-houses at one point, and a
great shore-dinner room with pavilion.
Farther down was a wharf, about which were
sailboats and yachts, and a beautiful little steamer,
that ran between the harbor and the town.  A
great hotel stood a little back from the shore,
near which stood a number of pretty cottages
for lodging some of the guests of the house.  At
intervals along the beach were handsome great
cottages, as large as Mr. Frothingham's.  There
was also a lighthouse on the beach.  At a little
distance back of the lighthouse was a pretty
grove with seats, swings, and revolving
hobby-horses.  The children spent the rest of the
morning in the grove, and along the shore.
Then came the novel event of the day,—dinner
in the great dining-room at the hotel,
with colored waiters, and all the courses, from
soup to nuts.  The tables were filled with
handsomely dressed, merry persons.  The show and
clatter, discussion of the bill of fare, and the
courses with their long pauses between, made it
easy to spend so much time at the table that a
good part of the afternoon was gone before
they left the dining-room; and so the children
concluded they would not go into town that day.

As they were passing out through the hall,
Johnny noticed that a good many men were
sitting with newspapers in their hands.  He
stopped as they passed the desk, and asked of
the clerk,—

"Does any boy sell papers here?"

"No," replied the clerk.

"Where do all these gentlemen get their papers?"

"Some of them come by mail, and some get
them when they go into town."

As they were going down the steps toward
the wharf, to see Mr. Le Bras and Pierre off
for town,—since they had decided to go in the
steamer, and leave the carriage for Oliver to
take the children for a drive along the
beach,—Johnny said,—

"There are no papers brought here to the
hotel: I have a mind to go over to town
mornings, and get some papers and bring them up;
if I could sell a good many, I could make
considerable money, and have a good time, by
coming to the town and Harbor every day."

"But you might not sell enough to make it
pay," replied his father.

"I can afford to try it one day.  I feel rather
badly about not earning any spending-money
this summer, and so I should like to try."

"But how could you get into town every day?"

"Why, Pierre will come over mornings to
teach that young man, won't he?"

"Yes; that is decided: but he only comes as
far as the Harbor."

"I can go to town and back in the steamer."

"But that will cost you twenty cents a day."

"Yes; but I expect to earn more than that;
and then, I shall get my money's worth in the
sail; I expect to spend some of the money I
earn, in having a good time."

"Very well: you can try the experiment,
if you have any money to risk in the enterprise."

"I brought two dollars with me of money I
earned myself, and so I think I will try it."

"What's the use of taking all that bother for
some money?" said Felix.  "Won't you give
him all the money he wants, uncle Frank?"

"I cannot very well afford to give a boy all
the money he wants," replied Mr. Le Bras;
"and, besides, I think it is a very bad plan."

"I like money better that I've earned myself,
and I like what I buy with it better than
I do the things bought with money other
persons have earned," said Johnny.  "Besides,
I belong to The Independents, who don't spend
money themselves that they have not earned."

"But you have to: you can't buy your own clothes."

"I don't spend the money for my clothes:
my father buys those things for me.  But I
earn all my own spending-money, and have
these two years."

"I'm glad I don't have to," said Felix.

"Ah! but you don't know what great fun it is."

As Mr. Le Bras and Pierre stepped on board
the little steamer, Johnny handed his father the
five cents Felix had given him, rolled up in a
little slip of paper.  "Please get me the acid,
father," he said: "I've written the name of it
on that slip of paper."

After the steamer had gone, the children
remained some time on the pier, looking at the
yachts, particularly Mr. Frothingham's, which
was named "Grace," after his wife.  It was
the largest yacht there, and the handsomest.
Then they went up into the grove to stay
until it was cooler, after which Oliver was
to take them to ride all about the Harbor, and
down to see the fort, which was half-way between
the harbor and the town.

As they were riding back from the fort, up
the Harbor road, about five o'clock, a very
handsome carriage came into the road at a turn just
ahead of them, with a span of black horses
wearing very handsome harness.  On the back
scat were a lady and a girl, and a gentleman
sat opposite talking with them.  The driver
was in livery.

"Why!  There's Mr. and Mrs. Frothingham! and—and
Ruth, I do believe!" exclaimed Felix.

At that moment, Ruth observed the children,
and said something to Mr. and Mrs. Frothingham,
who turned and bowed.  Mr. Frothingham
spoke to the driver, who drove more
slowly as he turned in the direction of the
Harbor; so that Oliver speedily overtook
him, and the two carriages were side by side.

"So you are alone by yourselves?" said Mr. Frothingham.

"Father and Pierre have gone into town,"
replied Johnny, "and we are riding until they
come back.  We came down this morning, and
took dinner at the hotel."

"Ah!" said Mr. Frothingham: "that was a
good idea.  I think, Grace, we had better take
Ruth to the hotel for an ice-cream.  Suppose
we all take some cream or ices?"

Mr. Frothingham then said, turning to the
children, "Mrs. Frothingham and I have been
over to the lighthouse to get Ruth: she is to
make us a visit.  We rode around here to give
her a little drive before we went home.  You
must come up to the house and see her this
week: I expect she will be a little homesick
at first, away from her uncle."

But Ruth did not look at all homesick yet;
her eyes sparkled, and her cheeks were
glowing; she looked so happy and so handsome,
that even the plain dark-blue calico seemed
very becoming.

When they reached the hotel, Mr. Frothingham
insisted upon their all going in for
ice-cream and cake and maccaroons.

Julia was rather horrified at first, at entering
the big hotel dining-room, with its groups of
richly dressed guests, accompanied by a girl
in a calico dress; but seeing that the waiters
treated Mr. and Mrs. Frothingham with great
deference, and the gentlemen and ladies bowed
very respectfully as they passed, she concluded
that the honors of the occasion quite offset the
disgrace, and enjoyed the entertainment very
much.  Ruth, in her pretty, modest way,
seemed quite happy and animated, much more
so than at the time she had spent the day at
Mr. Le Bras', with, the going down to the
cottages to find a place to work on her mind.

Mr. and Mrs. Frothingham and Ruth rode
directly home after leaving the hotel; and as
Mr. Le Bras and Pierre had not returned,
Oliver drove the children up and down near
the pier until they arrived.  It appeared that
Pierre, having come across an old grist-mill in
the suburbs, as Mr. Le Bras and he were
walking about the town, had wished to stop and
sketch it, and Mr. Le Bras had waited for him;
for the sketch was to be a present to Mrs. Le
Bras, who might like to make a painting from it.

"I must begin to make some sketches too,"
said Johnny.

"So must I," said Sue.

"Why, you can't draw, can you?" replied
Julia, who did not know how to use a pencil
with any skill herself.

"Oh, yes!" said Sue.  "At least, I can
draw pictures from nature that are good enough
for my sketch-book.  I didn't bring my sketch-book,
but I can paste the pictures in afterwards.
Did you bring any paper and drawing-pencils,
Johnny?"

"No; but mother has plenty she will lend
us; she told me I need not pack any."

"Did you remember the acid, uncle Frank?"
asked Felix.

"Yes," replied Mr. Le Bras, taking a little
vial, wrapped in white paper, from his pocket,
and handing it to Johnny.  "The druggist labelled
it 'Poison,' I noticed; so be careful of it."

"I know it is poison well enough without the
label," replied Johnny.  "I have learned what
it is made of, how it is made, and all about it,
from my chemistry."

When they reached home, Sue was telling
her mother about Mr. and Mrs. Frothingham
taking Ruth home for a visit, and how they all
had ice-cream together at the hotel.

"Just think!" said Felix: "there was Ruth
in that old calico dress."

"No Felix: it is a new calico," interrupted Sue.

"Common calico, I mean; and there was
every one else all dressed up.  I should think
Mr. and Mrs. Frothingham would have been
ashamed of her."

"I respect them very much for not being
ashamed of her," replied Mrs. Le Bras:
"persons who are ashamed of other people for
circumstances for which the persons who suffer
most from them are not to blame, ought to be
ashamed of themselves.  I shall always be
proud to say that I made the acquaintance here
this summer of a millionnaire and his wife who
were not spoiled by having a great amount of
money, but were true gentleman and lady.  No
one can be a true gentleman or lady who is not
kind-hearted, and free from foolish pride and
assumption.  Ruth seems to be as nice a little
girl as I ever saw, and it is nothing to her
discredit that she cannot dress finely."

While they were at supper, Johnny poured
some water into a tumbler, and added so much
sugar that it was soon quite a sirup.

"I like sugar and water: I guess I'll have
some too," remarked Felix, putting a little
water into his tumbler, and drawing the
sugar-bowl towards him.

"Johnny isn't going to eat that, Felix," said Sue.

"What is he going to do with it, then?"

"You wait and see," replied Johnny.  "I
want the sugar to get well dissolved by the
time supper is over, and so I mixed it now."

After supper, Johnny took the vial from his
pocket, and asked Kate if she would be kind
enough to bring him a common teaspoon.
When the spoon was brought, Johnny handed
the vial to Sue.  Now that the paper was
removed, the vial was seen to contain some
nearly white fluid.

"You pour it in gently while I stir," said
Johnny.

Sue took out the cork, and began to pour the
fluid slowly into the tumbler, while Johnny
stirred the sweetened water, etc., briskly.
Presently the contents of the tumbler grew very
black, and began to solidify, rising rapidly in
the tumbler, while what Felix called "smoke"
issued from it.

"Put your hand on the tumbler, Felix," said
Johnny.

Felix did so, but drew it back quickly.  "It
burns," said he.

"Yes," said Johnny: "chemical union causes
heat, and there are two substances uniting here.
You know the uniting of carbon or hydrogen
with oxygen produces heat, and it's so with
many other substances."

"It's going to run over!" said Sue.

Johnny slipped a saucer under the tumbler;
and the black mass overflowed, half filling the
saucer also.

"Now, you see," continued Johnny, "the
particles of matter have changed very much; for
one thing, it is plain enough that they are
farther apart; the acid and the sirup would not have
half filled the tumbler with their particles as
near together as they were to begin with; but
now they fill the tumbler and part of the saucer.
Who says that there isn't charcoal for you?
Just think, Felix! if you had eaten that sirup,
you would have eaten so much charcoal: it
would probably be more than you could burn
up in your lungs to-day or to-morrow, with
all the rest of the articles having carbon in
them that you have eaten, and so you would
have laid it up in extra fat on your body to use
some other time, unless you keep on taking in
more fuel than you need all the time; and, in
that case, it would stay as stored fuel in the
shape of fat, I suppose, unless the blood
managed to carry off some of it to the lungs to be
burned as waste matter.  I don't exactly know
about that: I haven't got very far in physiology yet."

"It's stopped smoking now," said Felix, taking
up some of the black mass in his fingers.
"I suppose it isn't good to eat with that poison
acid in it."

"And it don't look very appetizing, either,"
replied Johnny.  "But a person who had the
right kind of apparatus, and knew how, could
get all the sugar I put in there back again, so
that it would be just as good to eat as it was
before.  I suppose that smoke was a gas
escaping.  I haven't studied into this experiment as
I ought; but I shouldn't wonder if the oxygen
in the water united with the acid, and that set
the hydrogen in the water free, so that the
'smoke' was hydrogen gas.  But I am not
certain.  I'll find out exactly how it is when I
get back where my books are.  Or, like enough,
Pierre will tell us all about it."

"Well!  This does look amazingly like charcoal,"
said Felix, "only it is sort of sticky.
I guess we had better put it away till it dries."

"I don't believe it will dry," replied Johnny;
"because that acid has such an affinity for
water that it will collect moisture.  It will stay
just about as it is now; and, after you have
looked at it enough, I had better throw it in the
fire, where it will be out of the way: mother
don't like to have any thing with poison in it about."





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.. _`ODDS AND ENDS`:

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   CHAPTER XIV.


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   ODDS AND ENDS.

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The time flew very fast and happily by
the sea.  Johnny and Felix went to the
Harbor every morning directly after breakfast,
with Pierre, the reading-hour being postponed
until their return.  Johnny had great luck with
his papers from the very start; and his little
pocket-book grew so small for his money, in a
few days, that he had to transfer a portion of it
to another receptacle in his trunk.  Felix
accompanied him to the Harbor and town "for
the fun of it," as he said, but he soon began to
want to sell something himself; and so Johnny
proposed that he should buy candy in town at
the wholesale, and retail it at the Harbor; since
candy could be bought there only at the
shore-dinner room, where there was a very poor
assortment.  Felix was considering the subject,
when something happened, about a week after
they began their morning-trips to the Harbor,
which threw him into disgrace, and prevented
the immediate execution of the scheme.

About a week from the day on which Ruth
had visited at the cottage, Oliver went up on
the hay-mow to pitch down some of the straw
which had been placed there, and which was
the same that was on the floor the night the
boys slept out.  As the barn was used only in
summer, and there was plenty of pasture about,
very little hay was stored in the barn.  The
straw had been brought for the stables.  So it
happened that Oliver was seldom on this second
floor of the barn.  While he was throwing
down the straw that afternoon, and Mr. Le
Bras was standing in the barn-door giving him
some directions, Oliver heard a very strange
sound off in one corner.  "There's a queer
noise up here," said he: "I should think there
was some live thing about somewheres."

"What does it sound like?" inquired Mr. Le Bras.

"That's more'n I can tell," replied Oliver.
"It 'pears to be over here in the corner."

Oliver at once began to explore in the
direction from which the sound proceeded.
"Golly!" he exclaimed, in a tone that excited
Mr. Le Bras' curiosity so much that he ascended
to the mow.  Oliver was just removing a
stone from the top of a large box in the corner.
Having taken off the stone, he removed the
cover of the box, which had been placed on in
such a way as to leave an opening at the end
about an inch and a half wide.  He then drew
the box forward, and disclosed therein, to
Mr. Le Bras' astonished view, an emaciated kitten,
lying apparently helpless, uttering weak, pitiful
sounds, hardly distinguishable as the voice of
a cat.

Mr. Le Bras sprang to the door, and called,
"Felix!  Johnny!" while Oliver took the kitten
out, and laid it upon some hay on the barn-floor,
where it lay quite motionless, still making
the weak, mournful cry.

Johnny, Felix, and Sue were picking huckleberries
in the pasture: so the boys heard Mr. Le
Bras at once, and came running to the barn.
"Look here," said Mr. Le Bras, pointing to the
sad sight.  "Can either of you explain this?"

Both Johnny and Felix were horrified, but
of course Felix alone looked guilty; and,
although Mr. Le Bras had called Johnny as well
as Felix, he had no suspicion that Johnny knew
any thing about the imprisonment of the kitten.

"Why—I—I"—replied Felix, looking very
much confused, and very much ashamed, and
very sorry—"I knew about her being shut
up, and I meant to—to have let her out that
very night; but every thing happened about
then, and—and we've been to the Harbor every
day, and I haven't come across Jack since, and
so I—I forgot all about it.  I'm awful sorry,
uncle Frank: I never once thought of having
her stay there; I got sort of put out with Julia,
and I thought I'd like to tease her a little; and
so, when Jack spoke of doing something with
the kitten, I just helped him for fun, and I
proposed shutting her up, instead of drowning her,
as he wanted to."

"We shall have to hold another court, to-day,
Felix," said Mr. Le Bras gravely: "didn't you
say you knew nothing of what had become of
the kitten?—Johnny, run to the house at once,
and get a saucer of milk."

"I said," replied Felix, looking still more
ashamed, "that I knew nothing about Julia's
kitten; and when she asked me if I knew where
her kitten was, I said 'No;' because this was
not her kitten at all, but Jack's."

"This is very much like the other case, in
some aspects," replied Mr. Le Bras gravely,—"another
plain instance of prevarication.  I
had hoped, Felix, that after our previous talk
in regard to the real nature of truth and
falsehood, you would avoid prevarication as much as
you would avoid a direct falsehood."

Felix hung his head, and made no reply.

Sue, who had remained picking berries, on
seeing Johnny come out of the house with a
saucer of milk in his hand, called out, "Have
you found a cat, Johnny?"

"Yes," called back Johnny: "we've found
Julia's kitten!"

Sue at once put down her pail, and, without
coming to the barn first, ran directly across the
pathway through the strip of woods, to the
back part of the next cottage, and rushed into
the first door she came to, calling out, "Where's
Julia?  They've found her kitten!"

So, while Sue waited at the door, the girl
went to tell Julia the good news; and a moment
afterwards, Julia appeared, in a high state of
excitement, exclaiming, "Where is it?"

"In the barn, I guess," said Sue: "that's
where Johnny was carrying the milk."

Julia at once ran towards the barn, as fast
as she could go; and Sue followed her.  When
they entered the barn, Johnny was stroking the
kitten, and trying to get her to drink some of
the milk in the saucer, which was placed close
by her mouth; while the kitten made no effort
to drink, but only continued the faint, pitiful
cries.  Mr. Le Bras, Oliver, and Felix were
standing near,—Felix with his hands behind
him, and a very sober, perplexed look upon his
face.

As soon as Julia and Sue saw the poor,
emaciated object, Julia screamed, and Sue turned
away and began to cry.  Then Julia began to
cry bitterly, and exclaimed,—

"Oh, dear! my beautiful little kitten!  She's
dying!  She's been dreadfully treated!  Oh,
dear!  Oh, dear!  What shall I do!"

Mrs. Le Bras, who was sitting in the veranda,
heard the wailing, and ran out to the barn in a
great fright.  She was followed by Mary and
Kate.  When the full group were collected
about the kitten, its cries were quite drowned
in the chorus of lamentation.

"I shall have to take the part of a physician
for this patient," said Mr. Le Bras finally: "I
prescribe perfect quiet, to begin with.  We
must leave the kitten wholly alone, for at least
an hour: it will be much more likely to notice
the milk, and recover appetite for it, if its
attention is not distracted elsewhere.  Come,
let us all go; and you, Oliver, shut the barn-door
after us, and fasten it.  Felix can go to his
room, and stay until supper-time.  After supper
is over, he can go to the parlor with me, and
we will hold court."

Julia then ran home, without saying another
word; she ran into the room where her mother
was sitting, threw herself on the floor by her
side, buried her face in her lap, and began to
cry quite hysterically; so that Mrs. Peterson
would have been at a sad loss to know the
cause, if Sue had not followed close behind Julia.

"Why, the kitten's found, 'most dead and
starved," said Sue, who was still wiping her
eyes.  "It's just as little as nothing, except
its head, and that looks awfully big,—I guess
because it's about all that's left; and it's crying
and crying, and can't drink the milk; and Felix
must be to blame about it, 'cause father's
going to hold court with him after supper; and
I never saw Felix look half so sober before, so
I expect he's awfully to blame, somehow."

"I knew he and Jack did it," sobbed Julia;
"and he went and lied about it!  If that kitten
dies, I'll never speak to him again as long as I
live!  I don't believe I'll speak to him anyhow!
He is one of the hatefulest boys that ever
lived!  I thought he was going to be better
than he was last year; but this is just as
mean,—and meaner, too, than the things he used
to do last year.  I hate boys, anyway!—all
except Johnny."

Felix came down to supper with a very long
face.  The meal proceeded with unusual gravity
and silence all around.  As yet, the kitten had
not touched the milk, and her death was
expected at any time.  Sue had reported Julia to
have gone to bed early with a headache.  After
supper, Felix followed his uncle into the parlor.
When the testimony in the case was all in,
and Felix had made his defence, Mr. Le Bras
proceeded with his argument for the opposite
side, and for truth and right-doing in general,
and then, as judge, pronounced the extent of
Felix's guilt, and proceeded to the sentence.

"Now, Felix," said he, "if it were Johnny
who were deserving punishment, and we were
at home, I should, very likely, forbid his
reading or studying for a certain number of days,
which would be a great punishment for him;
but, in your case, it seems to me that study is
a punishment, and yet it is something for your
good.  I always endeavor, in punishing my
children, to deny them something, or have
them do something, which will be of some use
to them besides the punishment.  When I tell
Johnny he must not read for a week, I do it
partly because I know a pause in his reading,
and more exercise and open air in consequence,
will be for his good.  So, in my previous
sentence regarding you, I proposed that you should
read an hour a day for the summer, because it
would be a punishment in the first place, and
yet would improve you very much, and give
you a habit which would soon be a great
pleasure as well as profit to you."

"Yes," replied Felix.  "I rather anticipate
my hour's reading with Pierre now, and I
shouldn't like to give it up: but then, I get
tired by the end of the hour, and I shouldn't
like to have any more put on, if I can help it;
because there are such a lot of other things
that I want to do."

"Yes: I think an hour's reading is sufficient,
especially in vacation.  And I am hesitating
about giving you any more fixed confinement.
Still, as you do not go to school steadily, or
study very hard the rest of the year, there is
less objection than there would otherwise be.
On the whole, I think I will offer you your
choice between two kinds of punishment, this
time.  You can spend a half-hour a day in
the practice of letter-writing, in which you say
you are so deficient that you cannot write a
letter to your father and mother,—although
Johnny and Sue have already sent two,—or you
can remain away from the Harbor three weeks.
You can take your half-hour a day for writing, at
any time upon which you and Pierre can agree.
But you will probably prefer merely the
deprivation of the morning-trips to the Harbor."

"How long shall I have to spend a half-hour
a day studying letter-writing?"

"I think four weeks will answer.  That will
be twelve hours in all, which will be quite a
punishment, and also be long enough to learn
how to write a letter neatly and correctly."

"Then, I shall prefer the half-hour a day.  I
wouldn't give up going to the Harbor for a
good deal, because I am to try and see if I
can begin to earn some money to-morrow: I
shouldn't like to give that up.  If Pierre is
willing, I'll take my half-hour before breakfast,
and have it over with; for I always have a
little while, between the time I get up, and
breakfast-time, that I don't exactly know what
to do with."

"Very well.  But there is one thing more:
you must go over to see Julia to-morrow,
explain the matter fully, tell her how sorry you
are, and ask her forgiveness."

"That will be the hardest of all," replied
Felix, making a wry face; "because I don't
believe she will forgive me, and I know she
won't if the kitten isn't better.  I am awful
sorry, uncle Frank: I wouldn't have really hurt
the kitten for the world; and I've cried some
myself at thinking how miserable it looks, and
what a hard time it's had, and how it may die."

"I don't think you are cruel or hard-hearted,
Felix: your trouble is thoughtlessness; but,
you see, thoughtlessness may amount to the
same thing sometimes, in its effects, as real
cruelty.  I have known thoughtless persons
who have even been the cause of the death of
their dearest friends; so we will be thankful
that, in this case, it is only a kitten who has
had to suffer severely.  Yet we should be very
thoughtful, even of dumb animals; for they
cannot think for themselves, and are peculiarly
dependent upon us."

"I am awful sorry, truly," replied Felix,
looking down gravely: "I will try to be more
thoughtful, uncle Frank.  But then, if you
knew how much I've improved this summer,
I think you would be some encouraged."

"I am a good deal encouraged, my dear boy,
I assure you," replied Mr. Le Bras, putting his
arm around Felix.  "I expect great things of
you, my boy.  There's the making of a noble
man in you; and, in many ways, I am proud of
you already."

"I'm awful glad I've been with you and
auntie and Johnny and Sue this summer,"
replied Felix, brushing a tear from his eye.  "I
suppose I'd have gone right on being horrible,
if it hadn't been for that.  But, somehow, I
didn't know how to be any better,—or, anyway,
I couldn't be."

At that moment, there was a soft rap at the door.

"Who is it?" asked Mr. Le Bras.

"It's me," said Sue.  "Mother just sent me
to say Oliver has come in, and says the kitten
has drank up the milk, and so he guesses she'll
begin to be all right by to-morrow; and I'm
going right over to tell Julia, so she won't feel
so bad."

"I guess I'm glad!" exclaimed Felix.  And
then his uncle opened the door, and told him
the court was adjourned *sine die*, and he could
go and arrange with Pierre about the half-hour.

So, the next day, Felix went to the Harbor as
usual, and began his trade in candy, with very
good success.  The kitten had drank its milk
all right for breakfast, and was able to stand up.
Felix brought home a box of caramels for Julia,
and took them over with him when he went,
after dinner, to make his confession, and ask
forgiveness.  Julia could not withstand his
humble manner and the box of caramels.
She forgave him very prettily; although she
added, that she did not know whether she could
have forgiven him or not, if the kitten had
died.  Felix told her Jack said he didn't want
the kitten himself; in fact, his mother did not
like cats, and had said she was glad it had gone,
and that she would not have it brought back;
but yet he thought Julia deserved some punishment
for carrying it off, and so had proposed,
at first, to tie a stone to the kitten's neck, and
drown it, when they went fishing.  But Felix
had objected to this plan, decidedly, and had
compromised by proposing to shut the kitten
up, fully intending to let it out that night or
the next morning, and, if he kept it imprisoned
over night, to carry it something to eat.

The next day the kitten could walk around,
although very feebly.  She was still kept in
the barn, because that was a convenient place
for her progress to be watched by all interested.
The children made frequent visits to inquire
after her health, and were assured each time,
by her more cheerful and stronger "Mew!"
that she was better.

That afternoon, as the children were in the
veranda, Felix and Johnny sitting together in
the hammock reading the "St. Nicholas" and
"Wide Awake," which had just arrived, and
Julia and Sue playing with their dolls,
Mr. Frothingham's carriage came in sight, up the
shell road, immediately drawing their attention
from their books and dolls.

"There is a little girl with them," said Julia,
"but it isn't Ruth.  What a pretty girl she is,
and how beautifully she is dressed!  She
doesn't look much like Ruth, does she?"

"I guess it's some of their relations, come
to visit with Ruth," replied Sue.

"Poh!" said Felix: "no city girl would be
sent for to visit with Ruth, it isn't likely!  I
guess it's some one from the Harbor, that they
are carrying home.  I've seen a girl at the
Harbor, who lives in one of those big cottages,
that looks just like her."

"I think it is Ruth herself," said Johnny;
"only her hair is loose, and waved, and banged,
and she's got different clothes on."

"Oh, no!" exclaimed Julia, in disdain.

"Johnny thinks he can see better with his
spectacles than folks can who don't have to
wear any," remarked Felix, laughing.

"I really believe it is Ruth," said Sue breathlessly.

"Yes," added Johnny: "she's smiling, and
waving her hand to us; and don't you see she's
got Ruth's way of sitting up straight, and
holding back her head?"

Felix whistled, which was his ordinary way
of expressing great astonishment.  "If that
don't beat all!" he exclaimed.

Then they all ran down the steps, and stood,
an expectant and curious group, awaiting the
nearer approach of the carriage; while Mr. and
Mrs. Le Bras, who had been sitting in the
balcony, came down-stairs, and stood out on the
veranda, with smiling faces, ready to welcome
the occupants of the carriage.

There was no longer any doubt that the fine
young lady in the carriage was Ruth, though
she did look so radiantly stylish and handsome.

"Of course, dress makes a great difference
in persons' looks; but I never saw a more
striking example," remarked Mrs. Le Bras.

"Ruth was a very sweet-looking girl in her
plain clothes, though," replied Mr. Le Bras:
"I rather expected something of this kind,
when she should be dressed more like other children."

"Why! did you know they were going to
dress her up?" asked Felix.

"I thought it probable," replied Mr. Le Bras.

"But she'll feel all the worse when she has
to put on her calico dress, and go home," said
Julia.

The carriage was now too near for further
remarks.  The driver drove up to the door, and
stopped; while Mr. and Mrs. Le Bras came out,
and shook hands, and asked Mr. and
Mrs. Frothingham and Ruth to come in.

"We came down to get the children," said
Mr. Frothingham.  "We want them to come
and take tea with Ruth, and then drive over
with us to see the fireworks at the Harbor.
We will bring them back in good season this
evening.

"They will be very happy to go," replied
Mrs. Le Bras.

Mr. and Mrs. Le Bras urged their callers to
come in, and stay until the children were ready.
As Julia was included in the invitation, she ran
home to ask her mother if she could go, while
Felix, Sue, and Johnny went to get ready; Mrs. Le
Bras having called Kate to help Sue to dress.

Ruth was dressed in white, and wore a broad
hat of fine straw, trimmed with a long
cream-colored plume and satin ribbon.  She was just
as modest, unassuming, and at her ease, as
she had been in her blue calico, and, as Julia
told her mother, "didn't seem to mind being
dressed up."  The fact was, the poor child
was thinking so much of how nice it was not
to be at the lighthouse with her aunt, that
she had little thought for the other advantages
of her situation, to begin with.

When the company were seated in the parlor,
Mr. Le Bras said,—

"I judge you had good success in your
interview with Mr. Shepard."

"Yes," replied Mr. Frothingham: "all things
considered, bad as he felt to part with his little
niece, he decided that it was for the best all
around, under the circumstances.  He will be
able to see her often, and watch her growth
and progress.  We are to go through the legal
forms as soon as possible, so that her future
will be assured in case of my death."

Ruth was so horrified at Mr. Frothingham's
speaking of dying, that she came up to him, put
her arm around his neck, and said, with tears
in her eyes, "You aren't sick, are you?"

"Why, no, indeed!" replied Mr. Frothingham,
taking her on his knee, and laughing heartily.
"Do I look like it?  But I might get upset in my
yacht, you know, or run over by the cars; and
so, you see, I ought to be just as particular
how I leave my affairs, little girl, as though I
wasn't one of the healthiest persons in the world."

Mrs. Frothingham, who was sitting by the side
of Mrs. Le Bras, said, "Did you ever see any
thing like the way that dear child has come to
us, as if she was sent from Heaven, when we
were mourning the loss of our own little girl of
just about her age?  When my husband came
home that night, and told how strongly your
husband had advised him to adopt a child, I
felt, as he did, that it was a pretty risky matter;
for we have some friends who adopted a boy
from an orphan asylum a number of years ago,
and he is turning out a very wild young man,
almost breaking their hearts.  And then, only
a few days afterwards, while we were thinking
the matter over, we found that this child,
belonging to a nice family, whom my husband's
folks thought so much of years ago, was to be
sent out to work, because her aunt did not
want her in the way; and, just to think! she is
the daughter of the very girl of whom I have
heard Henry speak admiringly so often, as his
schoolmate and the nicest girl in the village.
He says Ruth looks just like her.  The child
and he take to each other so, and she and I
take to each other just the same!  It almost
seems like having my own little girl back.  Do
you see how perfectly Mary's clothes fit her?
There was not a single alteration needed.  And
do you see how happy Henry is?  He is so
fond of children, especially little girls!  I
thought it would break his heart when Mary
died, and his being so lonely has worried me
more than my own loneliness."

After Mr. and Mrs. Frothingham and the
children had disappeared up the road, looking
back, and waving their handkerchiefs, Mr. Le
Bras said,—

"What a contrast Mrs. Frothingham is to
Mrs. Shepard!  Mrs. Shepard is so afraid her
husband will like any one except herself, that
she has acted in a manner which must always
cause her husband to distrust her, if not
positively dislike her; while Mrs. Frothingham, by
being so glad to have her husband have some
child to love, and so ready to love the same
child herself, and be the happier for her
presence, is increasing her husband's affection and
admiration for herself."

"Jealousy is such a mean trait!" replied
Mrs. Le Bras; "but it carries its own punishment
with it, like most other selfish traits.  If
Mrs. Shepard had only been wise and kind-hearted
enough to have kept Ruth, and treated
her as she would an own daughter, how happy
she and Mr. Shepard and Ruth might have been!"

"Perhaps it is just as well, for all except
Mrs. Shepard," replied Mr. Le Bras; "for it has
secured a much happier life for Mr. and
Mrs. Frothingham, who were suffering so keenly for the
loss of their children; and Mr. Shepard cannot
but be proud of the bright prospects before his
little niece."

"I don't think any thing can make up for
domestic discomfort," replied Mrs. Le Bras;
"and I am afraid they never can be really
happy at the lighthouse, with the memory of
the way Mrs. Shepard treated Ruth always
before her and her husband."

"And between them," said Mr. Le Bras;
"but the best thing has been done that could
be done, under the circumstances.  Let us be
thankful that so much happiness has come to
three persons at least."

Before long Johnny and Felix carried on so
much business at the hotel and cottages at
the Harbor, that they were called "The Young
Merchants."  Johnny had orders for almost
every kind of a paper that could be had in
town, and Felix for all sorts of fine candy.
They found enough to do just to fill their
orders, and so did not have to run any risks
on their own account.  Felix's great perplexity
was what to do with his money; since he had
spending-money enough, that his father had
given him before he left.  This difficulty he
laid before his uncle.  Mr. Le Bras proposed
that he should buy some books, as those seemed
to be the only things he lacked; saying that, if
the books were bought with money Felix had
earned himself, he would be the more likely to
read them carefully, again and again, and prize
them highly.  In the course of time, he could
add to his collection from his regular
spending-money, unless he preferred to earn them in
some way, until he had as large a library of his
own as Johnny had, or larger.  As Felix was
beginning to like reading very much, he was
pleased with this proposal, and began to lay
out his earnings in books, taking Pierre's and
Johnny's advice as to what books to purchase,
in order to be sure that they would be not only
interesting, but instructive, and such as he
would not be likely to outgrow soon.

They generally got back from the Harbor in
time for the morning-bath at the beach.
Sometimes they went up to Mr. Frothingham's to
bathe; because he was teaching Ruth to swim,
and had promised to teach Julia and Sue at the
same time; and the boys liked to dive from the
wharf, for Johnny had learned to swim some,
under Oliver's instructions.  Pierre, too, was
learning to swim; but he usually went off with
some young men, with whom he had become
acquainted at the Harbor, where he was a
great favorite.

The sail-boat was in frequent requisition, and
the boys often took the girls out in the
row-boat; although Mrs. Le Bras would not allow
them to go out of sight of Oliver, who was
always somewhere upon the beach to watch
them.  This precaution was taken principally
on account of Felix's thoughtlessness when he
had one of his merry or mischievous fits, and
because the row-boat was not flat-bottomed, and
so would turn over more readily if it were
swayed to one side.

Mr. Frothingham sometimes took them all
out in his yacht, and at such times they often
had what Felix called "big fishing;" that is,
they caught bluefish, codfish, and mackerel,
which could not be caught near the shore.  On
one of these occasions, Mr. Le Bras, greatly to
his astonishment, drew up a large lobster, which
was caught to his hook by one of its claws.
He wondered greatly how it could have
happened, and finally concluded that the lobster
had been dropped from some boat.  But when,
shortly afterwards, he had the still more
singular fortune to draw up a wicker flask, which he
had seen on board the yacht in their own
lunch-basket, he demanded an explanation of both
these mysterious occurrences, upon which Felix
exclaimed merrily,—

"Didn't I tell you I'd pay you off about Clyde?"

Felix had attached the lobster and the flask
to Mr. Le Bras' hook, by drawing up his line
when his attention was diverted in another
direction.  The lobster was one which had
been brought for bait, and which Felix had
begged of Mr. Frothingham, as Mr. Le Bras
had not noticed it.

Mr. Le Bras was obliged to return to his
office after a few weeks; but he came to the
cottage every Saturday, remaining until
Monday, and sometimes into the middle of the
week.  Pierre staid all the time, as he had
agreed to give the young man at the Harbor
lessons daily for the summer.

Sundays they generally went to the church
in the village, but sometimes they drove into
town.  Once they attended service in the
summer-chapel at the Harbor.

Ruth was very happy in her new home, and
made such improvement, that, in a short time,
no one would have suspected she had not
always had the same advantages she was now
enjoying.  Mr. and Mrs. Frothingham were
more and more fond of her; but they were too
sensible to spoil her, and took great pains to
encourage her in being sensible and self-reliant.
Mrs. Frothingham was teaching her to cook,
and do other kinds of housework, just as she
had taught her own little girl; and Mr. Frothingham
not only taught her to swim, but to
ride on horseback, and promised to get her a
tricycle when they returned to the city.  As
Mr. Frothingham's city-house was in the same
place where Mr. Frank Le Bras lived, Johnny
and Sue had the pleasure of knowing that
their acquaintance with Ruth would continue.
Mr. Frothingham would not return to the city,
however, until October; while Johnny and
Sue and their mother were to go home in
September.

And so the happy summer sped.  September
came, and with it Mr. Louis Le Bras and his wife,
who arrived at the cottage on the tenth.
Mrs. Le Bras had improved greatly in health, and
was very grateful to her brother-in-law and his
wife for having enabled her to leave, by taking
charge of Felix.  When she and her husband saw
how much Felix had improved in his manners,
and appearance in general, they were still more
grateful for the pains that had been taken with
him.  His letters had, however, somewhat
prepared them for the change, as they were such
great contrasts to the letters he had been
accustomed to write; although it was very seldom that
he had been induced to write a letter, until his
uncle and Pierre took the matter in hand.
When Felix showed them the library he was
buying, with money he earned himself, they
could hardly believe their eyes and ears,
especially when they saw the books were not simple
story-books, like those Felix had been accustomed
to look over so carelessly, and stumble
over in the reading, but substantial works
containing useful information, several of them
being "Science Primers," written by famous
professors.  But their astonishment was not at
an end; for Felix further informed them that
he had read all these books aloud to Pierre,
and could understand and pronounce every
word in them.  After this, Mr. Le Bras told his
brother and his wife how all this wonderful
change had come about in so brief a time, and
advised his brother to continue similar methods
with Felix by hiring Pierre, who fully
understood how to manage and interest such a boy,
for his tutor for the next year.  Mr. Louis Le
Bras said he should be only too glad to engage
Pierre, and would give him a good price for his
valuable service.

Johnny and Sue and their father and mother
remained at the cottage about a week after the
arrival of the owner, and then Mr. Le Bras
said he could not leave his office for another
day; and Mrs. Le Bras said, if that was the
case, she could not stay longer either, as she
had remained more on her husband's account
than her own, because he had been so much in
need of just such an outing as he had had this
summer.

Felix looked very solemn when the day came
for his uncle and aunt and Johnny and Sue to
return home, and was only consoled by the fact
that Pierre, of whom he had grown very fond,
was to stay with him right along.  It was
agreed, too, that Johnny and Sue might come
to New York and spend the winter holidays, as
their first visit from home without their father
and mother.  Mr. Louis Le Bras and his wife,
and Mr. and Mrs. Frothingham and Ruth,
accompanied them to the station.  When the
cars started, Felix quite broke down: he took
out his handkerchief, and wiped his eyes very
hard.  Turning to Pierre, who was holding his
hand, he said, "It seems to me as if the sun
hasn't half shone to-day, and now it's almost as
dark as night;" and then, as the train disappeared,
he wept outright.

Yet the sun was shining brightly all the time.

Johnny and Sue, too, found a similar use for
their handkerchiefs.

"I hope you are not so very sorry to return
to your own home, children," said their mother.

"No," replied Johnny, trying hard not to
snuff any more.  "I am glad to go home, though
the beach was so grand: but I was awful sorry
to have to leave Felix; I wish we could always
live together!"

"So do I," said Sue: "I love him dearly!"

"For my part," said Mr. Le Bras, "I feel
wonderfully happy at the way it has all turned
out.  I always thought I would like to have
you and Felix love each other as his father and
I love one another, but I was afraid it never
could come about.  Just to think, Johnny, how
you wanted to get away from him, and we
couldn't blame you either, and how the
sky-room was contrived as a refuge!

"And Johnny let him right into it, first
thing," said Sue.

"But I am glad we discovered the room,
father," replied Johnny.

"Certainly!  It is a great acquisition: it
opens a new world.  I haven't told you how I
have spent almost all my evenings, alone at
home, up there.  We can't part with that
glorious view when the cold weather comes.  I
intend to have some men come, right off, and put
a partition where the curtains are, and then have
it plastered and papered.  We will set up one
of our spare stoves by November; and you can
fill a large box, outside the partition, with coal,
as you get time,—which will be good exercise
for you,—and keep it filled.  Then, any
Saturday you choose, or any other day, when any of
us feel like going up there to enjoy the view,
we can build a fire, even in mid-winter, and,
lo! we are as good as out of doors, without the
discomforts."

"What a grand place to see a winter storm
from!" exclaimed Johnny, in delight.

"And to see the snow or ice all over the
trees!" added Sue.

"This is a good illustration," remarked
Mrs. Le Bras, "of how some of the things which we
dread most turn out to be among the most
fortunate incidents that come to us.  To think
how we all dreaded Felix's visit! and now let
us see how many nice things it has brought us."

"A whole summer at the seaside, in a beautiful
cottage, with lots of pleasant acquaintances
and good times," said Johnny.

"And your bicycle, and all the fun you have
had with it, and the dog-cart for me," said Sue.

"And the sky-room," added Johnny.

"And getting acquainted with Mr. and
Mrs. Frothingham and Ruth, for always," said Sue.

"And Felix's improvement," said Mr. Le Bras.

"And Pierre's having such a good place,"
said Mrs. Le Bras.

"And Ruth's being adopted," said Johnny;
"for you know, Mr. Frothingham said it would
never have come into his head, if you had not
advised it so strongly."

"And your aunt Mary's getting better," said
Mrs. Le Bras.

"And a check for a thousand dollars, my
dear," said Mr. Le Bras, taking a slip of paper
from his pocket-book, and handing it to her.
"Louis fairly insisted upon my taking this;
and when I saw it would make him feel very
badly if I refused, I consented; though it
secretly annoyed me greatly, to take pay for
doing a favor to my own brother, and benefiting
my own nephew.  Still, Louis has money
enough, and he might as well throw it away in
this way as any other, I suppose."

Mrs. Le Bras looked at the check in blank
astonishment.

"You see, poor Louis was almost beside
himself with delight over Felix's improvement:
he said he should never have known how to
bring it about himself; and, in fact, he didn't so
much as suppose the boy had it in him to try
to be a scholar, or behave as well as some boys
did, and he had always said he would give a
thousand dollars to have Felix taught to behave
himself decently.  So I must take the money,
or grieve him; and there it is."

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