\ 
 
 THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES
 
 ;
 
 ;
 
 HEART'S CONTENT, 
 
 AND THEY WHO LIVED THERE. 
 
 CLARA DOTY BATES. 
 
 AUTHOR OP "CLASSICS OF BABYLAND," " CHILD LOM, BTC. 
 
 BOSTON: 
 D. LOTHROP AND COMPANY, 
 
 FRANKLIN STREET, CORNER OF HAWLEY.
 
 COPYRIGHT BY 
 
 LOTH ROP & CO. 
 1880.
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 THE FIRST FIVE ASTONISHED .... 7 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 "HERE IS SIX" l8 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 STORY TELLING 34 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 MARS'S ADVENTURE 47 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 A DAY OF DISTRESSES 66 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 THE NAUGHTY TRICK 81 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 THE BEGINNING OF A PROFESSION . . . 100 
 y 
 
 622684
 
 Contents. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 THE GOD OF WAR AT A DISADVANTAGE . . in 
 
 CHAPTER TX. 
 THE EXPERIMENT 129 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 DON'S LUCK 144 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 ANOTHER PHASE 158 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 MARS'S WAY OF DOING BUSINESS. . . .175 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 THE OLD BENT TREE 188 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 A BIT OF DISCIPLINE 204 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 A WRONG STORY 220 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 THE FUNNY MASK 232 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 THE CHRISTMAS STOCKING 241
 
 HEART'S CONTENT. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 THE FIEST FIVE ASTONISHED. 
 " They grew together, side by side." 
 
 I DON'T know what I shall do with this 
 baby," said Mr. Lawrence, " I have so many 
 little ones, already." 
 
 Trudge was on his knee, with her small hands 
 locked across her little fat lap, and a placid, 
 far-away look in her eyes. 
 
 Don sat at the window, with a heavy scowl 
 
 upon his forehead not of discontent, but of 
 
 deep reflection ; Nanny hung upon the back of 
 
 her father's chair ; and Jane, in her low seat, 
 
 7
 
 8 Heart's Content. 
 
 was rocking her cat to sleep ; while Mars 
 worked assiduously at a willow whistle with his 
 jack-knife first beating the bark with the 
 handle, and then trying, to blow a note upon 
 it, until, with the combined efforts, the veins 
 stood out in purple cords upon his forehead. 
 
 It was a June Saturday. The windows were 
 open, and the long hedge of Scotch roses was 
 pink with bloom. Bees hummed with a drowsy 
 sound, and sweet smells filled the air. 
 
 This was the birthday of a little sister ; and 
 the announcement had just been made to the 
 children after breakfast. It had been welcomed 
 with varied degrees of curiosity, surprise and 
 delight ; and each one had had the space of 
 half an hour in which to come to a conclusion 
 as to whether the news was pleasant or other- 
 wise. 
 
 Then Mr. Lawrence said, as if to test the 
 general spirit : 
 
 " I don't know what I shall do with this 
 baby, I have so many little ones, already." 
 
 " Keep it ! " said Trudge, with the gravest 
 nonchalance. 
 
 Don's frown relaxed, and the rest laughed at
 
 The First Five Astonished. 9 
 
 Trudge's ready settlement of the question. Of 
 course she was hugged and kissed for the cool- 
 ness with which she proved a warm heart ; and 
 then a general discussion took place. 
 
 And while they chatter in lively eagerness 
 over the astonishing announcement that has 
 been made, we will give this, little household 
 group a rather more formal introduction. 
 
 Three sisters and two brothers filled the 
 house, full or at least it had seemed there was 
 no longer any room for more. Each nook and 
 corner had its constant use, and Silence never 
 entered there except hand in hand with Sleep. 
 
 It was not a mansion, but a cottage ; nestled 
 down near a thriving frontier city, whose envi- 
 rons were yet new, having still not a few of 
 the features of the primitive wilderness, such 
 as lately-cleared fields, settlers' houses built of 
 hewn logs, heavy stretches of wood, and ex- 
 tended spaces by the roadsides as yet without 
 those barriers to the picturesque fences. The 
 locality was what was then the best. 
 
 The .house stood within near enough reach 
 of the busy town for all purposes of business 
 or pleasure, and yet had room enough in its
 
 10 Heart's Content. 
 
 grounds for a small orchard, a vegetable garden, 
 a barn and stables. 
 
 In other words, it was a miniature farm, at 
 the very door of a city. 
 
 You could not pass the house without turning 
 to note its simple beauty. Its white walls 
 were covered with vines, which draped it in 
 summer with leaves, and in winter outlined 
 this drapery with a dark net-work of stems. 
 
 Roses in, their season were there in profusion, 
 and carefulty-tended flower-beds, and bits of 
 shrubbery ; and the whole aspect of the house 
 had the look of loving care upon it. 
 
 It was not a place to live in, merely it 
 was a home. 
 
 Inside, as might be expected, it was cosy with 
 books and many pictures made beautiful not 
 with modern decorative art, but with the art 
 of love. 
 
 Its windows had spotless curtains and shining 
 panes. Each room, where a glimpse could be 
 caught through an open door, seemed to have 
 a special look of comfort in its easy-chair, or 
 its soft rug, or its book-rack, or its great roomy 
 sofa. And the kitchen had a white floor, and
 
 The First Five Astonished. 11 
 
 clean-scoured chairs, and an old-fashioned 
 dresser on carved bear's claws, and with brass 
 handles to its drawers. 
 
 This place was called Heart's Content. 
 
 The children in this cottage were so nearly 
 'of an age and size that they were like the steps 
 in a stair each one just about such a height 
 taller than the next younger and they were 
 as varied in looks and dispositions as their 
 number would allow. 
 
 Donald, the eldest, would have been an ex- 
 uberant, headstrong, wayward boy, perhaps, 
 had not responsibility fallen early upon him in 
 the shape of so many younger than himself 
 Nanny being the largest ingredient in that 
 responsibility. 
 
 As it was, his unusual animal life and strength 
 were diverted mainly to the care and protection 
 of the girls, and, to the defense and discipline 
 of a smaller brother none the less doughty 
 than himself, however. Tow-headed, dark-eyed, 
 and as straight as an Indian, he always headed 
 the flock in any experiment; and in case one 
 strayed from the accustomed habit of play, it 
 was his province to restore the wanderer to the
 
 12 Heart's Content. 
 
 safety of regulated custom. In that way what 
 might have been a troublesome amount of vital- 
 ity and individuality, was applied and absorbed 
 to the benefit of the whole. 
 
 He was twelve years old ; in manner imperi- 
 ous, bluff, gruff, and accustomed to be " minded," 
 or to know the reason wiry, at once. In fact, 
 he was a tyrant; but, quite an unusual thing 
 in a tyrant, it was generally in the interests of 
 good-sense and right. As an excuse for some 
 of his peculiarities it must be said, that being 
 care-taker in general, he naturally felt entitled 
 to a good deal of authority. And Don's growl 
 was a growl merely never a bite. 
 
 Why Nanny, the next in order, should be 
 the black sheep in that flock, it would be hard 
 to tell. But so it was. One glance at her 
 round rosy face, with its gray eyes and laughing 
 mouth, would show that it was not ill-nature, 
 at least, that made her so. Rather, you would 
 conclude, it was her mischief that was forever 
 getting her into trouble. 
 
 And mischief it undoubtedly was pure, 
 bubbling, inexhaustible mischief. 
 
 She could be a grave girl on occasion, very
 
 The First Five Astonished. 13 
 
 decorous, and reasonably attentive to her du- 
 ties ; but, alas, it was her general tendency to 
 romp that seemed to undo and to offset all her 
 otherwise praiseworthy conduct. She was two 
 years younger than Don, but fully as tall as 
 he, robust, full of strength, and innocent of 
 reflection. 
 
 There was an entire contrast between her 
 and the next one little Jane who was puny 
 and slim, with a sharp pain in her side whenever 
 she ran or played. She hadn't a grain of 
 roguery in her, and was the conscience of the 
 family. She was timid and sensitive, and her 
 life-long suffering was over Nanny's gay dis- 
 graces, which that young lady bore with no 
 mark of contrition, except possibly sometimes 
 the reddened appearance of her little pug nose, 
 after an April shower of penitent tears. 
 
 Frederick Marston Lawrence child the 
 fourth otherwise Teddy or Mars was odder 
 than any other. The head on his little square 
 shoulders was a very sensible and practical one, 
 though you might not have guessed it, had 
 you chanced to see him for the first time in 
 one of his " gusts." It was covered with thick
 
 14 Heart's Content. 
 
 hair, which in his babyhood was called " golden," 
 but which was undeniably red. It bristled up 
 straight, especially one little lock on the crown, 
 whenever he flew into one of his " tempers." 
 
 But there was a good deal of ingenuity 
 underneath that funny thatch, and of good- 
 sense, and of sweetness, too. He was fair and 
 open, and staunch as a little commodore in all 
 his relations to his playmates, and quite inclined 
 to help himself, as far as his elders were con- 
 cerned. He was stubbed, and happy, and noisy. 
 He banged doors, and whooped out loud in the 
 house ; and more than once had tried to beat 
 his elder brother, if his very tender toes were 
 trodden upon ever so little or, in other words, 
 if there was any suspicion that he was being 
 teazed or dictated to. 
 
 Little Elizabeth, or Trudge, as she was called, 
 was such a round little creature that she might 
 have rolled like a ball, instead of walking. Her 
 color was the lightest flaxen, though her eyes 
 were large, and soft, and brown. She was near- 
 sighted, sober-mannered, yet full of demure 
 frolics, and ready to follow to the uttermost 
 wherever sport might lead.
 
 The First Five Astonished. 15 
 
 She was docile as a fawn, and could be de- 
 pended upon never to disobey; but how any- 
 one so thoroughly obedient and tractable could 
 manage to do so many things which needed 
 correction, was the constant wonder of all. 
 The truth is, she had a most busy little brain, 
 and following as she did in the active wake of 
 such a harum-scarum as Nanny, and such a 
 little god of war as Mars, it is not surprising 
 that she sometimes came to grief. 
 
 Now, besides the father and mother, there 
 was an aunt in the family Aunt Ann. Every- 
 body, nearly, -has an Aunt Ann, but never one, 
 it is believed, was so good, and, at the same 
 time so eccentric, as this one. She was a Betsey- 
 Trotwood kind of woman, angular, abrupt, 
 gentle, prudish, pious, and quaint, believing it 
 her duty to frown upon the slightest mirth. 
 So morbid was she upon that subject, that even 
 the glee of these healthy children, had to be 
 hushed and admonished like a wickedness. 
 
 Her whole life was absorbed in these nephews 
 and nieces, and she knew all their little ins and 
 outs of character, and was jealous lest they, in 
 being spared, should be spoiled, yet with not
 
 16 Heart's Content. 
 
 hardness of heart enough to hurt one of then? 
 by so much as the blow from a straw. When 
 she felt convinced that they ought to be pun 
 ished and as a kind of second mother it often 
 lay with her to do it, or not, as her judgment 
 saw fit she would flee to her chamber as it 
 pursued. To the comfort of their minds and 
 bodies, they never were punished, except by 
 grieved rebuke or tender censure. 
 
 Still Aunt Ann, holding rather ultra views 
 on the subject, often felt it her duty to chastise, 
 to use the Scriptural rod not in anger, but 
 in sorrow yet had any one dared to strike a 
 blow on one of those cherished little miscreants, 
 she would have defended them as a tigress does 
 her young. 
 
 " Be good," was her constant charge. And 
 because it was so often given it lost much of its 
 effect. If she had said "be bad," now and 
 then, the very novelty of it might possibly have 4 
 held their attention long enough to secur< 
 thought, or at least silence. But "be good,' 
 grew to be almost like " seek him ! " to dog 
 Zeus a signal for fresh efforts. They laughed
 
 The First Five Astonished. 17 
 
 at it, as a sort of by-word, and forgot it in the 
 next breath. 
 
 Only one more item is to be added to this 
 introduction, and that is the fact that in those 
 days, and in that semi-country life, living was 
 not always easy or luxurious. 
 
 Children were taught to be helpful, and to 
 value such advantages as were afforded them, 
 though they might not be very ample. 
 
 BOJ T S did chores - odious and tiresome, they 
 often were and girls were trained to house- 
 hold duties, and were expected to knit and to 
 sew. Many a little girl's ambition, before she 
 was eight years old, was to make a quilt, or to 
 shape a stocking, including the " heel." 
 
 And where there were so many to do for, as 
 at Heart's Content, it was indeed needful that 
 each one should add a mite to the general 
 industry. 
 
 The indulgent mother was inclined to give 
 large measure of holiday, while Aunt Ann kept 
 up her strict counter-tactics of work; and on 
 the whole, Heart's Content was like a little 
 hive of bees busy always at light tasks or 
 at play mostly the latter.
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 " HEBE IS SIX." 
 " With Love's invisible sceptre laden." 
 
 NO wonder the discussion was an ani- 
 mated one, for a new sister is not an 
 every-day affair. It was a loving household, 
 and to this spirit, and for the sake of a 
 full understanding between them, Mr. Lawrence 
 appealed. 
 
 " You see," he said, " this is the first day of 
 summer, and there was never a lovelier morning 
 for a birthda}*. The sun shines as if he meant 
 everything to be pleasant ; the birds are glad 
 and we ought to be very. A little sister will 
 be something for you boys to take care of, 
 and pet, and much nicer than dolls for the 
 18
 
 Here is Six." 19 
 
 girls and even nicer," he added, with a smile, 
 "than Jane's cat." 
 
 Jane gave the great lazy kitten a quiet 
 squeeze, as if to assure him that no rival could 
 steal into his place in her heart; but she 
 smiled back at her father at the same time, for 
 the news of a new sister had quite overwhelmed 
 her with joy. 
 
 " What shall her name be ? " queried Nanny. 
 
 "Name her June," replied sturdy Mars, 
 without any intermission at his whistle. 
 
 *' That's no name for a girl ! " said Don, with 
 some contempt, "that's the name of a month." 
 
 "But I say it is a name for a girl," burst 
 out Marsie in a heat, that his suggestion should 
 be slighted "you said it is a lovely time, 
 and she's a lovely baby, and her name shall be 
 June ! " 
 
 Then Mr. Lawrence, wishing to pacify, in- 
 terrupted, " We'll counsel with mamma about 
 a name." 
 
 But Mars was not easily quieted, when his 
 opinions were disputed, and went on to argue 
 his case with considerable stress. May was a 
 name for a girl, and why not June? Don was
 
 20 Heart's Content. 
 
 forever turning up his nose at things ! and down 
 went whistle and jack-knife, and away he rushed 
 towards his mother's room to have the matter 
 settled at once. 
 
 Of course he had to be called back and molli- 
 fied and reasoned with ; and Jane with a meek 
 word, finally restored him to good nature. She 
 whispered : 
 
 "Marsie.it is a sweet name but isn't it 
 pretty much like Jane?" 
 
 " That's the reason I like it," replied Mars, 
 stoutly, for he was champion-in-chief and dear- 
 est friend to this little pale sister. 
 
 A very uneasy household it was until the 
 new arrival could be introduced. Such a fair 
 pure lily as she was, with great dark eyes full 
 of wisdom from the hour they first opened to 
 the light of that summer day. 
 
 Every heart was won. All were agreed that 
 never had there been anything so sweet,. so dear, 
 so cunning. To have her look at them, as she 
 did for an instant with curious intelligence, was 
 wonderful delight ; and her tiny hands and feet 
 were the joyous surprise of all. Trudge hugged
 
 "Here is Six" 21 
 
 herself with serene satisfaction, as if she held 
 the baby in her own chubby arms, and said: 
 
 "She's mine! she's mine!" and Mars began 
 at once to make playthings for her spool-carts, 
 trains of cars, trumpets and tops. 
 
 Don, who was just beginning Latin, called 
 her " pulchra," which learned name had a novel 
 effect upon Nanny, who conceded for the first 
 time that Don might be her superior, and fol- 
 lowed him about insisting that he should talk 
 Latin to her. 
 
 Mars chattered constantly of " June," deter- 
 mined in his little obstinate mind that his name 
 should be adopted; but as no one would quar- 
 rel with him, he gradually let the subject drop. 
 
 This, I have said, was on Saturday, and of 
 course there was no school. And so with the 
 natural restlessness of these bees, together with 
 their late surprise and curiosity, Aunt Ann grew 
 nearly distracted before the morning was half 
 gone. 
 
 There were still four weeks of school before 
 the summer vacation, but if this was a foretaste 
 of that dreaded time, what Bedlam threatened 
 them.
 
 22 Heart's Content. 
 
 The three little girls were finally sent to a 
 neighbor's for the day ; and Don took a fine gal- 
 lop on his pony with some of his friends, leav- 
 ing only Marsie, who whittled industriously all 
 day over his projected gifts to the baby. When 
 all were gathered together again at nightfall, 
 each one was tired enough to go early to bed. 
 But they did not get to rest without some final 
 disputes. 
 
 Trudge prayed so long for her new sister, that 
 Mars got out of all patience, before she hopped 
 off in her little white night-dress, like a large- 
 sized toad, saying, " she's mine ! she's mine ! " 
 Then Nanny did not say her 
 
 "Now I lay me down to sleep." 
 
 with as much decorum as she ought, for which 
 Jane took her to task ; and, between them all, 
 Marsie got to laughing, which made Don roar 
 out from his room that he'd soon settle them 
 if they didn't keep still. 
 
 And Jane plotted in under-current through 
 it all, and until she went to sleep, how she 
 would knit the tiniest little stockings that ever 
 were seen for those very tiny feet.
 
 "Here is Six" 23 
 
 Next morning it was less of a wonder that 
 there was a baby in the house, and it cried just 
 long enough to disgust Mars. 
 
 " I can't see what she wants to cry for, when 
 nobody has hurt her," he said. "If she acts 
 that way, I don't care whether her name is June, 
 or not." 
 
 Jane lingered long about the cradle, her poor 
 cat neglected for the first time, and she timidly 
 begged to " hold " June calling her so with a 
 view to having Mars's name made the real one if 
 possible. 
 
 It did not seem in the least like Sunday. The 
 household was not in its usually serene state, for 
 there was more to do, and less restraint. The 
 new element in their lives disturbed the tranquil 
 regularity for a little, and it was felt in every 
 part of the machinery. 
 
 Nobody went to morning service, but Aunt 
 Ann got the children ready for Sunday-school. 
 They looked like a little flock of pigeons in their 
 fresh frocks and jackets and hats, as they moved 
 away in a decorous quiet fashion, quite unlike 
 their week-day exuberance. When they got
 
 24 Heart's Content. 
 
 home again their commonplace clothes were put 
 on so that the day might not be one of discom- 
 fort in any sense, as would have been the case 
 if they had been obliged all the time to be mind- 
 ful of what they wore. 
 
 " Let Sunday be a pleasant day to them," was 
 their mother's theory, " and let their restraints 
 be of the spirit, and the body will need no other 
 restrictions." 
 
 It had been a long day to them all. The un- 
 usual cares upon the elder members of the fam- 
 ily had made the children more restless and less 
 self-reliant than was their wont. One after 
 another, though, they at last became interested 
 in their new Sunday -school books, and the play- 
 room up stairs was a scene of the most indus- 
 trious reading. 
 
 " Oh, Janey, has your book got a moral ? " 
 finally burst out Mars, breaking in upon the 
 quiet. " Mine has a beautiful one." 
 
 " I don't know," said Janey, " what is a 
 moral ? " 
 
 " Why, a moral's this," said Mars. " A lot of 
 boys do wrong, and one of them gets drownded.'
 
 "Here is Six. 1 ' 25 
 
 " That isn't a moral," interrupted Nanny, 
 authoritatively, looking up from her absorbing 
 page. 
 
 " It is a moral, too, I tell you," persisted Mars. 
 " I'll ask Aunt Ann if it isn't," he added, as she 
 just then entered the room in search of her own 
 book. 
 
 Dreading an irruption of this much-desired 
 peace, Aunt Ann sat down at once and became 
 umpire. She always doubted her own wisdom 
 in replying to these merciless questioners, and 
 her lifted eye-brows and tired face indicated now 
 that patience was the only strength that re- 
 mained to her. 
 
 " Well, what is it, children? " she said. 
 
 The question in dispute was made known. 
 
 " By a moral to a story," Aunt Ann said, 
 mildly, " I understand that part of it which 
 shows that no good ever comes out of wrong- 
 doing. Isn't that what you understand, Nanny ? " 
 
 "No, it isn't, Aunt Ann," said Nanny. "A 
 moral is always the stupid part that spoils 
 everything. Now my book hasn't any moral 
 it's all story. You never saw anything so inter- 
 esting. I wish Mars would keep still with his
 
 26 Heart's Content. 
 
 morals. I can't wait to see how Christian gets 
 out of his trouble." 
 
 Her book was Pilgrim's Progress. 
 
 " Why, dear," said Aunt Ann, smiling at 
 Nanny's impetuosity, and glancing over at the 
 book in her lap, " do you know that your story 
 book is fuller of Christian moral and real re- 
 ligious lessons than almost any other ? Pilgrim's 
 Progress conveys a precept in every page." 
 
 " But I thought a moral was where people 
 gave advice," stammered Nanny. " And be- 
 sides, my teacher said this was an allegory." 
 
 " Oh, tell us about morals," cried Mars, laying 
 aside his book and going to Aunt Ann's side, 
 stimulated to a desire for knowledge because 
 there was something in dispute, " tell us all 
 about 'em." 
 
 " I should like to know how there's any moral 
 in anything so interesting as this," persisted 
 Nanny, in an aggrieved voice, running the leaves 
 of her book through her fingers. 
 
 " Well, since Mars is anxious to know, I will 
 tell you as nearly as I can," replied Aunt Ann. 
 " You think it is all delightful story, but the story 
 means a great deal. We are all doing every
 
 "Here is Six." 27 
 
 day very much the same things that Christian 
 did. He was determined to follow Christ, and 
 yet how many temptations were in his way, and 
 how difficult he found the task he had under- 
 taken. What we so much admire in him is that 
 he was bold and full of courage. He was not 
 easily frightened, nor turned hack. And all this 
 is told, so that we may realize how much is to be 
 gained by strength in doing right ; and where 
 the moral lies is, in our being made to see that 
 though the path of duty is a difficult one, yet it 
 Jeads to glorious places." 
 
 Mars was all interest. " I want to know if 
 Christian had to fight," he said. 
 
 " Yes," answered Aunt Ann, " a great many 
 times, and he had to suffer, too. Nanny, dear, 
 you must not get the idea that a moral is the 
 unpleasant part of a stor} r ." 
 
 "To me it is," said Nanny, quickly. "I 
 always skip it. It's dull, and don't tell any 
 news." 
 
 " Yet," pursued Aunt Ann, not liking to leave 
 Nanny with such a perverse idea in her head, 
 "you realize that what I tell you about the
 
 28 Heart's Content. 
 
 moral in the Pilgrim's Progress is true, I am 
 sure. You must find it in every page." 
 
 " Yes," rather hesitated Nanny, " I think it 
 is. If that's a moral, I don't dislike it." 
 
 "You see," said Aunt Ann, " the book shows 
 you that temptations in the way are like roaring 
 lions. The Hill Difficulty is a weary one, and 
 the Slough of Despond a dreadful mire." 
 
 Then Mars began to tease : 
 
 " Oh, Nanny, read it to me, please, or else let 
 me take the book, and I'll lend you mine." 
 
 "I'm much obliged," said Nanny, resuming 
 her reading, " but I prefer my own." : 
 
 " Mars," said Aunt Ann, coaxingly, "be 
 patient until Nanny has finished it, and then, 
 since you are so fond of morals, I will read it to 
 you, and we will enjoy it together. Finish your 
 own book, now, while I go to see that little sister 
 June is taken care of. And if you want to ba 
 like Christian, }-ou will be patient until you can 
 learn more about him." 
 
 At this she patted his head, which always 
 seemed a wise thing to do, for there was so much 
 natural rebellion in it that one felt like being 
 assured that the cover was well on, lest it should
 
 u Here is Six."' 29 
 
 boil over at the top. Then she went down-stairs 
 again. 
 
 But Mars was on the subject, and could not 
 keep still. 
 
 "Nanny, if you hate morals," he began, "you 
 won't find but one in my book, and that's a 
 beautiful one " but before he could make any 
 definite proposition, Nanny sprang up and fol- 
 lowed Aunt Ann down-stairs. She went out 
 into the garden, and perched herself in the low 
 crotch of a peach-tree, where she read and nib- 
 bled her finger nails, unconscious of the whole 
 world, until she was called in to supper. 
 
 It was Aunt Ann who called, " Come, Nanny," 
 but still she lagged to finish one more fascinat- 
 ing paragraph. 
 
 Then again the patient voice admonished, 
 " Come, Nanny, I want you to be a good girl, 
 and not give me any trouble." 
 
 This last plea she obeyed, reading as she 
 went. 
 
 After supper the minutes were not so slow. 
 The dark shut down over Heart's Content, and 
 the important though wholly uneventful first 
 Sunday of the new sister was over at last.
 
 30 Heart's Content. 
 
 On the following morning it was a grateful 
 relief to the entire house that the children could 
 be got off to school. Nanny braided her own 
 thick locks, but Aunt Ann had the task of 
 brushing out and arranging Jane's long dark 
 braids, as well as Trudge's flaxen ones. Marsie's 
 only toilet was a futile attempt on his part to 
 divide in a boy line, at one side, his ruddy scrub- 
 bing-brush hair, and to put on a clean collar, 
 and tie the ribbon at his throat. But even that 
 was too much of a detention for his patience, 
 and he endured it only with a deep wrinkle in 
 his forehead, which was his Grossest signal. 
 
 Trudge was too little for school, but had re- 
 sisted being kept at home with such a vigor of 
 grief, that she had finally become one of the reg- 
 ular attendants sunburned, and sweet as a 
 peach, always with her little green primer under 
 her arm. 
 
 In the wet spring months Aunt Ann had tried 
 to teach Marsie and the girls at home that is, 
 to have a real school, with real study hours and 
 rules. But it could never be very well disci- 
 plined, from the fact that the play-room had to 
 be used as a school-room ; and there were too
 
 "Here is Six" 81 
 
 many doll's boxes and other playthings in sight, 
 for the peace of mind of either pupils or teacher. 
 And moreover, the study had been very irregular. 
 
 Mars generally buried both outspread hands 
 in his hair, and settled into an attitude of close 
 research for the space of a half hour, perhaps ; 
 and, if his lesson could be heard at once, could 
 manage to skim along glibly enough through his 
 geography and spelling. But delay was fatal ; 
 for he forgot it all as fast as he learned it, and 
 could never get it a second time without a siege 
 of bad temper. So he generally got off early ; 
 while Nanny was sure to be the last one out. 
 
 Her way was to set the rest laughing if she 
 could anything to make things go rather 
 gaily and only to study when crowded to it 
 by the near dinner-hour, or by the signs of ap- 
 proaching night. Trudge loved her primer next 
 to her doll ; and Jane was non-committal and 
 gentle always, which rendered her neither a very 
 troublesome pupil, nor a very satisfactory one. 
 
 Don, who had never been included in the gov- 
 erness plan, generally came home redolent of 
 base ball or kite flying, and made a great flour-
 
 32 Heart's Content. 
 
 i?h before Mars of his town-acquired knowledge, 
 which had helped to render the home-teaching 
 still more difficult, as each boast was simply a 
 seed of discontent. Mars was just credulous 
 enough to listen with open-mouthed admiration 
 to Don's trumpet blowing. All was heroic that 
 he did not understand, or could not share. But 
 his deference was only to the extent of his lack 
 of experience ; for in all home matters he never 
 failed to contest every inch of ground with 
 Don. 
 
 " What a little fighter you are, Mars," Don 
 would say. "If I say a thing, or do a thing, 
 you go off like a pistol, and I'd have you under- 
 stand I don't fight small boys ! " 
 
 " But you try to boss me, you do, Don you 
 know you do ! " was Marsie's defence. 
 
 " No, I don't, simpleton. It's because you've 
 got such a temper. You're so afraid of your 
 dignity that you resent everything, and the way 
 you resent is to fight.' 
 
 And Don was right. The two could not agree 
 because one would patronize, and the other 
 would not be patronized.
 
 "Here is Six" 33 
 
 But when Mars himself was let to go to 
 school, much of this daggers-drawn condition 
 was modified, and the conflicts were lessened in 
 degree, if not in frequency. And Aunt Ann was 
 not sorry to have the weight of that responsibil- 
 ity lifted from her shoulders.
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 STORY TELLINQ. 
 
 " I will tell it softly, 
 
 Yon crickets shall not hear it, 
 
 AMONG the varied dispositions in our little 
 flock, Jane's was not the least difficult of 
 management. Less boisterous and unruly, per- 
 haps, than any of the others, yet her very silence 
 and reflectiveness, added to a somewhat morbid 
 conscientiousness, made it a delicate task to see 
 that she was rightly guided and enlightened. 
 
 She believed implicitly in her father and 
 mother, and in Aunt Ann, and because of that 
 extreme trust, she rarely asked questions. In- 
 deed, her faith was so absolute that there was 
 never even the impulse to questions, as with 
 most children. So when she really very much 
 34
 
 Story Telling. 35 
 
 needed some one to set her right, she plodded 
 along alone among the fogs and rocks, stumbling 
 and bewildered. 
 
 Aunt Ann found this little girl's quiet so 
 soothing to her often tired spirit, that it was her 
 habit to take her with her to her room, and there 
 to read to her, and to teach her to sing hymns 
 out of the old-fashioned hymn-book. 
 
 These quiet withdrawals she called their " love 
 feasts." It was about the only time Aunt Ann 
 had, where she could do all the talking, with no 
 one to interrupt her. 
 
 During these feasts, Jane drank in a no trifling 
 amount of knowledge and truth for Aunt Ann 
 never read anything but the Bible but at the 
 same time she also got a bitter draught of doubt. 
 This came from the fact that, while she sup- 
 posed she understood it all, her credulous mind 
 only caught the literal meaning. 
 
 " Cast thy bread upon the waters, and thou 
 shalt find it after many days," read Aunt Ann, 
 in her sweet pious voice, a precept she was prac- 
 tising every day of her life. 
 
 From hearing it often, the idea peculiarly 
 struck Jane's fancy, and she wasted no time in
 
 36 Heart's Content. 
 
 following it out. Over in a near field was a 
 little pond, in which grew rushes and cat-tails, 
 and which was always surrounded with a vague 
 dread to the children on account of snakes. 
 
 To this Jane went with her pocket full of 
 bread, which she scattered upon its surface, con- 
 fidently expecting to find it again hi due time, 
 and to restore it to the table. 
 
 It was not a pleasant task to go, day after 
 'day, as she did for many weeks, to search for 
 the bread amongst the grasses and weeds of the 
 ponds, yet she performed that duty with cheer- 
 ful persistence, until, at last, with a dreadful 
 heart-sinking, she was forced to give it up. 
 Even then she did not tell Aunt Ann, but 
 grieved in silence over the shadow of doubt that 
 had fallen upon her Bible. 
 
 During Aunt Ann's "love feasts" the two 
 voices could be heard, crooning the dear old 
 tunes Aunt Ann's a suppressed soprano, and 
 Jane's alighting upon the notes at random, never 
 bold nor skillful, but always timorous, and of 
 most extraordinary irregularity of register. 
 
 It seemed to Nanny such a stupid business to 
 stay in one room for any length of time, she
 
 Story Telling. 37 
 
 wondered what they found to enjoy, but iheir 
 music itself was a source of the liveliest amuse- 
 ment to her. 
 
 " Do hear Jane sing ! " was her laughing cry 
 to Mars ; and they two would stand side by side, 
 and with long-drawn faces imitate the pensive 
 duet. 
 
 " It sounds just like the kittens in the barn," 
 said Mars. 
 
 After the advent of the baby the love feasts 
 had to be abandoned, and Jane's musical culture 
 was neglected. 
 
 Yet, now and then, of a rainy evening, Aunt 
 Ann gathered such of the flock about her 
 as were controllable, and told them stories. 
 " David and Goliath " was Mars's favorite, and 
 " Moses in the bulrushes " Jane's. Don was in- 
 dependent of others for his entertainment, as he 
 had become the possessor of " Plutarch's Lives," 
 which he read assiduously. 
 
 One night the rain set in heavily before sun- 
 down. Aunt Ann felt she had a siege before 
 her between that and bed-time, in amusing the 
 children, and in keeping the peace between 
 them.
 
 38 Heart's Content. 
 
 At supper-time she hinted that she had dis- 
 covered a plan. There was a certain mystery in 
 her manner which excited interest. She would 
 only say that unless all met together in her 
 room, she should have to abandon her idea 
 which was evidently something altogether new 
 and wonderful. The truth is, poor Aunt Ann 
 was quite as much in the dark as the rest as to 
 what was to come, her plan being simply to keep 
 them all as still as possible, so that their mother 
 need not be disturbed. 
 
 Driven to an extremity, at length a bright 
 thought came to her, that by levying upon each 
 one in some form for the general amusement, she 
 might possibly be able to hold their fickle 
 attention. 
 
 They were eager to leave the supper-table to 
 go to her room, and she followed them there as 
 soon as possible in a kind of helpless dismay, 
 putting off the decided moment with many a 
 little subterfuge. 
 
 She lifted Trudge upon her knee ; Janey sat 
 on a stool at her feet ; Mars crowded close to 
 her side, so as to be certain that no word could 
 drop down upon the floor between them and be
 
 Story Telling. 39 
 
 lost ; while Nanny rocked back and forth in her 
 own chair within reasonable distance. Don had 
 chosen not to come ; he must study, he said. 
 
 " Now what is the plan ? " began impatient 
 Mars. 
 
 " You don't give me time to tell you," said 
 Aunt Ann. " You hurry me so, I shall forget 
 everything." 
 
 Mars nestled, and declared he would try not 
 to hurry. 
 
 " Well," began Aunt Ann, " you know that 
 for a long time you have called upon me for 
 stories, stories, and I have always told them. 
 One would think I had been made of stories, and 
 ate and drank, and even breathed stories, you 
 have demanded so many. You have never 
 seemed to consider that I had any rights in the 
 matter, at all, nor that possibly I, too, might like 
 to listen to a story in turn. Now my plan is, 
 that since it is rainy, and we have a good long 
 evening before us, you shall each of you tell me 
 a tale. You shall choose whichever one -you 
 like, and Nanny may begin." 
 
 Strange to say, and quite to Aunt Ann's sur- 
 prise, the " plan " became popular at once.
 
 40 Heart's Content. 
 
 " It isn't any more than fair," decided Mars, 
 and I know what one I shall tell. Giant Blun- 
 derbore is mine." 
 
 " Hush, my dear," said Aunt Ann, " you must 
 wait your turn. Now, Nanny ! " 
 
 Nanny began : 
 
 " My story will be about a French queen, and 
 I read it in Abbott's Histories. She was very 
 beautiful, and she used to dress up as a shep- 
 herdess, and have a dairy. But tljere came a 
 revolution, and the people cried, * Down with 
 the Austrian,' and so she and the king were both 
 sent to prison I've forgotten what the} r did 
 then with her son, the prince. The king was exe- 
 cuted first, and the cruel part of it was, the queen 
 had to know all about it ; but she was very 
 brave. Then she was tried, and the trial was 
 unjust, and the day after they led her to the 
 scaffold. She was dressed in pure white, and 
 had her arms fastened behind her. All along 
 the way to the execution the house-tops and 
 windows, and even the trees were filled with 
 people to see her. It was a very, very wicked 
 thing for the French people to do very wicked. 
 But I like the story because it is so sad."
 
 Story Telling. 41 
 
 Nanny's story was very acceptable, and was of 
 such a tragic and vivid character, that Jane, 
 whose turn it was next, found it hard to begin 
 the one she had decided upon telling. But 
 kindly encouraged by Aunt Ann, and urged on 
 by Mars, she started out timidly : 
 
 " Once upon a time there were some shep- 
 herds watching their flocks upon a plain, and it 
 was in the night. All at once there came a 
 great light, and they were afraid. But it was 
 an angel from God, and he said, * Fear not, for I 
 bring you glad tidings of great joy.' And then 
 a whole cloud full of angels appeared, and they 
 sang, ' Peace on earth, good will toward men.' 
 
 "This was because Christ had been born. 
 The shepherds were not frightened any more, 
 but they said, 'let us go and see.' And so they 
 travelled a long way and came to Bethlehem. 
 And there they found a beautiful baby in a 
 stable. It lay in a manger, and the oxen were 
 in their stalls but nothing hurt it. because it was 
 Jesus. And there were wise men there who had 
 brought gifts to it, and they knelt down and 
 worshipped it." 
 
 Little Jane's voice died out almost to a wins-
 
 42 Heart's Content. 
 
 per, through shyness, before she had finished her 
 story. But they all liked it, and Nanny felt 
 quite eclipsed. 
 
 " Now it's Mars's turn ! " they cried. 
 
 "Alexander was a great fighter," he began, 
 amidst a general smile. " And he was a king, 
 and went to war, and he whipped the whole 
 world. He fought battles all the while with big 
 guns, but when he had whipped everybody, he 
 sat down and cried." 
 
 " Why did he cry ? " inquired Trtidge, won- 
 deringly, as Mars paused, surprised to find his 
 story come so abruptly to an end. 
 
 " Because," he replied, scornfully, " there 
 wasn't anybody else to lick." 
 
 " Is that all ? " asked Jane, gently, when a 
 still longer pause ensued. 
 
 " Yes," Mars answered, with a heavy sigh, still 
 amazed to find he had finished. 
 
 "'Twas a very nice one," whispered Jane, 
 never failing in her approval to Mars. 
 
 " Now what story has little Trudge to tell ? " 
 said Aunt Ann, turning to the little butter-ball 
 in her lap. 
 
 " I only know about pussy spinning in the
 
 Story Telling. 43 
 
 oven, and along came a little mouse and tangled 
 her rolls," blushed Trudge. 
 
 Then she hid her face against Aunt Ann, and 
 could only be drawn out of that concealment 
 with some effort. 
 
 " Oh, you little ostrich," cried Nanny. " Come 
 out and tell your story." 
 
 " 1 11 tell it," cried Mars, eagerly. " I know 
 it." 
 
 This was done solely to rouse Trudge's ambi- 
 tion, for Mars had by no means yet recovered 
 from his astonishment at his own brevity. The 
 ruse succeeded, for in an almost inaudible voice 
 she went through the skipping and tripping 
 measure of the story. 
 
 She was greeted with a great deal of applause 
 for her performance. 
 
 Aunt Ann's little plan had been surprisingly 
 successful. In trying to interest others, she had 
 herself become interested, which is a method 
 worth remembering. 
 
 " Now," cried Nanny, " Aunt Ann hasn't told 
 us any story, and so her part will be to tell us 
 which she likes best of ours." 
 
 All agreed that that was fair.
 
 44 Heart's Content. 
 
 " You place me in quite a dilemma," protested 
 Aunt Ann. "Each was good, yet all were 
 different." 
 
 "But you must tell, you must tell ! " they all 
 clamored. 
 
 " Of course I think there can be no hesitation 
 in deciding as to which is the best,'' said Aunt 
 Ann. " If I choose, you must remember that I 
 do not reflect upon any one's choice, or manner 
 of telling. But there is no story in the history 
 of the world so important to us, nor one so beau- 
 tiful as the one which the angels told to the 
 shepherds on the plains of Judea that night. 
 We all know what a precious thing it is to have 
 a little sister born, but think what it was when 
 the Saviour of the world opened his holy eyes in 
 that humble manger ! 
 
 ""Not any story that can be told conveys so 
 much of tenderness and love as that. The his- 
 tory of Marie Antoinette is very touching, and 
 Alexander's wars were great, and his victories 
 many; but Christ born into the world means 
 atonement for the sins of the world, and the hope 
 of everlasting life. We can listen to it every
 
 Story Telling. 45 
 
 day, and yet it always has new force and 
 meaning." 
 
 They seemed to like to listen to her, so she 
 continued : 
 
 " I always have such a picture in my mind of 
 the plains of Judea that night. Perhaps it was 
 chilly, and the stars looked cold; or perhaps a 
 wind blew, or the dew wet their garments. At 
 any rate, it was lonely and solemn there, and if 
 the tired shepherds laid down to rest, the rocky 
 places must have bruised them. Then when the 
 glory shone on them, they rose with startled 
 faces and heavily-beating hearts. Then the mes- 
 sage that they heard must have filled them with 
 awe and wonder, for how could they all at once 
 understand the marvellous words, 'Peace on 
 earth, good will toward men,' coming down to 
 them upon those desolate fields. They believed 
 it, though, for they left their flocks, to find the 
 Holy Babe." 
 
 Aunt Ann paused a little as if in thought. 
 
 " Not the least beautiful part of the story to 
 me," she continued, " is, that though the star 
 shone in the East to guide the wise men, yet to 
 the simple and unknown watchers of flocks God
 
 46 Heart's Content. 
 
 deigned to send one of his own angels, with the 
 most blessed message ever given to man. From 
 the very beginning of the earthly life of Christ, 
 He was the friend of the obscure and humble, 
 and you know, too, that he loved little children. 
 You must think of the story often, dears, for it 
 is always a comfort." 
 
 At the beginning of the evening, Aunt Ann 
 had feared trouble in getting and keeping her 
 charge together, but the real trouble came in 
 dismissing them, and in getting the good-nights 
 said without reluctance. 
 
 They were loth to listen to her final, " Well; 
 children," for that meant conclusion. Trudge 
 was gently set aside, and Mars, who from crowd- 
 ing had ended in leaning his whole weight upon 
 her, was restored to his feet ; " all say good- 
 night," she commanded, cheerily, and linger- 
 ingly the little story-tellers dispersed.
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 MABS'S ADVENTURE. 
 
 " A full-hot horse, who being allowed his way 
 Self-mettle tires him." 
 
 THESE days of a new sister proved very 
 trying ones to Mars. Mamma's control 
 was virtually withdrawn, and without it the 
 impetuous little fellow got into continual trouble. 
 Don loved to teaze him, and said that if ever 
 there was a volcano in the world, it was just 
 under Marsie's hair. 
 
 A volcano was defined in Mars's geography as 
 
 " a mountain which sends forth fire and smoke," 
 
 and so firmly did he believe what Don said, that 
 
 he would not have been at all surprised if at 
 
 47
 
 48 Heart's Content. 
 
 any time he had felt little puffs of blue smoke 
 coming out from under his hat. 
 
 Then Nanny had a way of testing his tern 
 perature, when all had reason to believe that the 
 thermometer was running pretty high, and that 
 was by wetting the end of her finger and apply- 
 ing it to Mars's head, as a laundress does hers to 
 a hot flat-iron. 
 
 This did not increase the peace in the family, 
 and Nanny was usually wise enough to dance 
 off out of reach as quickly as possible after it. 
 
 Poor little Mars always fell into the trap, no 
 matter how often it was set for him. He could 
 not realize that if he would keep cool, and not 
 fly into a passion, Don and Nanny would "find no 
 zest in teazing him. But he always did just as 
 they delighted in seeing him do burst out into 
 an angry tempest, which only made Don laugh 
 until his sides ached. 
 
 Then, when the fury was exhausted, he would 
 wheedle Mars a little, say one or two softening 
 words, at which the little bristling crop of tow 
 hair would smooth itself, and the little crimson 
 face become peaceful and good-natured again.
 
 Mars's Adventure, 49 
 
 "Oh, Mars," Don would say, "your temper 
 will bring you to the gallows yet! " which Mars 
 firmly believed. Nor can it be said that he 
 regretted it. He only knew Don said so, and of 
 course Don knew. 
 
 At one time a clergyman was visiting the 
 house, who patted Mars upon the shoulder and 
 asked : 
 
 " Well, my boy, what are you going to do 
 when you get to be a man ?" 
 
 Mars's reply was as sincere as it was shocking : 
 
 " I am going to be hung." 
 
 In the morning of this day, whose adventure 
 we have to relate, everything had gone wrong. 
 In dressing himself a button had come off; in 
 washing himself Don had pushed his head down 
 into the bowl, which was a great indignity ; 
 and before nine o'clock Mars had fully deter- 
 mined to run away. 
 
 The crowning grievance which had settled 
 him upon this course had come from his mother. 
 She was very busy, as usual, and he had burst 
 into her room, and with a somewhat boisterous 
 voice demanded his soldier's cap, as the boys 
 were getting ready near by for a parade.
 
 50 Heart's Content. 
 
 " Be more gentle, my son," she said, " and 
 look for it, yourself. You will probably find it 
 where you left it." 
 
 " I won't live here any longer," stamped Mars, 
 all the morning's troubles rushing to his hasty 
 little head. "I will run away ! I will ! I will ! " 
 
 The mother quite used to his explosions, said 
 gently : 
 
 " Well, Marsie, if you run away, you must 
 first let your father know what you intend 
 to do." 
 
 At which words Mars flew up-stairs to the 
 library, which was his father's study, more 
 angry, if possible, than at first. 
 
 His father looked up pleasantly as the little 
 tornado burst into his presence, hot displeasure 
 flaming in every feature and look. 
 
 " Well, my son," said Mr. Lawrence, serenely, 
 "what can I do for } r ou ? " 
 
 "I'm going to run away, stormed Mars," 
 " and I want my money." 
 
 Mars's father acted in the capacity of banker 
 to him. When he had any pocket-money which 
 was not in immediate demand for candy or toys,
 
 Mars's Adventure. 51 
 
 he gave it to his father to keep for him. This 
 he drew as occasion required. For example, if 
 he had ten cents on deposit, and happened to 
 want twenty-five, he drew on his banker with 
 the utmost business coolness, and generally 
 got it. 
 
 This time, however, his father was more par- 
 ticular, and asked : 
 
 " How much do you want ? " 
 
 " I want fifty cents," said Mars, not a whit 
 backward or repentant. 
 
 " But I have only ten cents of yours," replied 
 his father. " You deposited ten cents yester- 
 day," and adding, as he paid it over to him, 
 " what are you going to run away for ? " 
 
 " I don't like the way mother acts, and Don 
 pushed my head into the water this morning 
 and Mars was conscious that his grievances 
 were not very great ; and possibly he began to 
 cool off a little, supposing that his father would 
 try to persuade him not to go. 
 
 But instead, Mr. Lawrence calmly resumed 
 his book, and, after lingering a little, Mara 
 started.
 
 52 Hearts Content. 
 
 " Good-bye," said his father, pleasantly. 
 
 Mars replied " good-bye," with half-abated 
 courage. 
 
 But it must not be inferred that he was sorry 
 yet. On his way out he passed his mother's 
 door, and she smiled on him with a kind nod, 
 as she was wont ; but she did not even hint that 
 he could change his mind. 
 
 Out he went upon the street at rather slower 
 pace than usual, sturdily ignoring the bo}"S at 
 the corner, with their peaked paper caps on, and 
 one of them beating a drum. They noticed 
 him, but with boyish intuition supposed he had 
 been sent on an errand. 
 
 He wore neither his play gait nor manner. 
 His custom was a wild bang of the door, and a 
 three-steps-at-a-time way of getting down the 
 door-steps. Now he went decidedly, as if he 
 was being made useful reluctantly, with bent 
 brows and tardy feet. 
 
 He was planning. He could go to sea. In 
 story books, running away meant that ; and he 
 was running away, after many threats to that 
 effect. 
 
 He went down the busy street, thinking
 
 Mars's Adventure. 53 
 
 deeply. He passed all the familiar places, and 
 walked towards the farther suburbs. To go to 
 places he did not know well, made running away 
 more genuine. 
 
 But he felt it was time for him to settle upon 
 something definite as to direction, and at the 
 very thought of his independence, he also began 
 to feel hungry. He knew that ten cents was 
 a very small sum, and that he should have to 
 make it go as far as possible ; so he bought a 
 stick of gum, thinking that would last longer 
 than candy. 
 
 Then he started out in earnest. Since he was 
 a hardy little fellow, he was not a bit abashed, 
 but began to take an interest in everything about 
 him. 
 
 He passed through the suburbs, and out upon 
 an open country road. It was very warm and 
 he pulled off his roundabout and walked rap- 
 idly. His hat was square upon the back of his 
 head, and his face was flushed with heat. 
 
 But he tugged along, too eager to whistle, 
 with a vague current of thought in his mind, 
 which was a mixture of Robinson Crusoe, and 
 Whittington and his cat.
 
 54 Heart's Content. 
 
 But it grew hotter and hotter. He was 
 thirsty, and there was just a suspicion of weari- 
 ness in his little legs, as he had not used any 
 wisdom in the matter of economizing his 
 strength, and besides he began to feel decidedly 
 hungry. 
 
 He climbed over into an orchard and found 
 some half-ripe apples, which he ate with zest. 
 
 It was almost noon, he knew by the sun, and 
 relaxing his speed he began to study his where- 
 abouts. He could descry in the distance the 
 top of -a spire and the roofs of some houses. 
 He had never been in that direction, and 
 proving how little he had learned in his geogra- 
 phy he thought it possibly might be New 
 York. His imagination so far out-run his good 
 sense that this supposition did not seem to him 
 absurd. In fact he felt inspired, and picked up 
 courage and strength again. 
 
 Poor Marsie ; it was not New York, but only 
 a little country village, with grassy streets and 
 quiet trees, and only now and then a human 
 being visible. 
 
 When he reached it, as he did after more 
 vigorous walking, he slackened his pace, and
 
 Mars's Adventure. 55 
 
 looked into the windows of the shops as he 
 sauntered along. One was a baker's shop, 
 evidently, though not very inviting. 
 
 He entered, and studied the stale contents of 
 the show-case. After some mental debate he 
 decided upon some seed cookies, which were a 
 penny apiece. He took six, which left him 
 three cents. These he ate with a ravenous rel- 
 ish, standing outside the shop, and wishing 
 there was a place to sit down. He was tired of 
 carrying his roundabout, and though " almost 
 roasted," put it on again. 
 
 It was very still there, with the noon sun 
 pouring down upon everything, and a shimmer 
 of heat quivering in the air. Nobody heeded 
 him, for there seemed to be nobody to heed. 
 Only now and then did anybody pass; a little 
 girl went by in a sun-bonnet, carrying a pail ; a 
 slouching man, with hands in his pockets, crept 
 along in the shade from a low shop, evidently 
 going home to dinner ; a boy skipped past with 
 bare, dirty feet, and Mars was inclined to hail 
 him ; but a patrician contempt of his style pre- 
 vented him. 
 
 In fact, it was all very dispiriting. It was
 
 66 Heart's Content. 
 
 not in the least adventurous or exciting, and he 
 was by this time pretty tired. 
 
 -At last when another boy, no less dirty than 
 the first, went past, he hailed him : 
 
 " Sa}% what place is this ? " and got for reply : 
 
 " Murray's Corners." 
 
 " How far from Amisburgh? " 
 
 "Five miles." 
 
 Now at least he had the satisfaction of know- 
 ing where he was, for he had heard this name 
 before, without ever the least idea of its locality. 
 
 How dismal it was ! The monotonous country 
 road seemed better to him than this little sleepy 
 town. In his dissatisfaction a new idea struck 
 him. If he had only gone directly to the river, 
 that would have led him to some big city, and 
 that was what he should have done. Perhaps it 
 was not too late ; but then going to the river, 
 involved going directly back to Amisburgh. 
 Could he not go back and start over again ? 
 
 He received this thought with reluctance, 
 and only by slow degrees would admit it. But 
 his mind was so plastic, and his childish impet- 
 uosity so headlong, that it took but half an
 
 Mars' 8 Adventure. 57 
 
 hour to determine him, and back he started 
 under the midda} r sun, over the long and lone- 
 some road. 
 
 His feet felt sore, and disappointment made 
 him very conscious of it; he was tired too, and 
 missed his good dinner, and moreover he won- 
 dered what Don was doing. 
 
 On, and on he went, calculating from point to 
 point in the road, how many steps it would take 
 to reach such a rock, or such a tree. This he 
 did to beguile the weary journey. 
 
 At last he felt that he must rest. Near at 
 hand a brook gurgled along through a meadow 
 which had been newly mown. He climbed the 
 fence, drank a full draught, wet his head 
 which was already dripping in the cool water, 
 and then laid down on a heap of the scented 
 hay. 
 
 The shadow of a tree kept off the direct rays 
 of the sun, and the delightful sense of repose 
 lulled him soon into drowsiness. Then he fell 
 asleep poor tired little wrong-doer ! 
 
 How long he lay he could not tell, but was 
 wakened by the heat of the descending sun full 
 upon his face. The shadow of the tree had
 
 58 Heart's Content. 
 
 moved to the eastward, leaving him in the direct 
 glare. He sprang up bewildered, and at a loss 
 to know where he was. 
 
 In one sense he felt rested : but the rest only 
 served to show him how tired he really was. He 
 soon recalled all the day's adventures ; and since 
 he was entirely over his anger now, and over his 
 excitement, his heart dropped heavily. 
 
 He thought of home, of Don, and Nanny, and 
 Jane, and Trudge. He realized that he had run 
 away for good. A sob rose in his throat, and a 
 tear or two stole over his hot cheeks. But Mars 
 had not a grain of cowardice in him. He did 
 not do hasty things, and then grow frightened 
 when the results were unpleasant. Whatever 
 came, whether through his fault, or the fault of 
 others, his disposition was to stand up like a 
 little man and bear his part. 
 
 So, brushing his eyes hastily with the sleeve 
 of his roundabout, he climbed over again into 
 the road, and trudged along. 
 
 Very glad indeed was he when he came in 
 sight of Amisburgh, and knew that he was near 
 home again. 
 
 He had not planned in advance what he
 
 Mars's Adventure. 59 
 
 should do ; but what he did do was to find the 
 shortest way home, and to walk that way with 
 all the speed possible. Only when he came in 
 sight of the house did his courage fail him. A 
 sense of shame came over him, and he did not 
 know what to do next. 
 
 It was sunset, and a little dash of rain had 
 sprinkled the street and made it cool. Where 
 he had been not a drop had fallen. The chil- 
 dren's voices sounded happy at their evening 
 play. People sat out upon their piazzas and 
 porches to enjoy the freshened air, and Mars 
 could hardly bear the trial of facing them, after 
 what he had done. 
 
 So when near home he ran down the lane, and 
 slipped into the barn by a back way. This was 
 the crisis. How could he ever meet his father 
 and mother, and what would Don sa}*, if he 
 knew that he was there ? 
 
 He resolved to hide ; and so he clambered 
 upon a pile of hay, and sat there like a kitten 
 until it grew dark. 
 
 After a little he heard his mother's voice. 
 She had come out to pour some water upon a
 
 60 Hearts Content. 
 
 bed of choice plants. Her voice sounded very 
 sad ; but Mars was glad to hear it. He crawled 
 down from his perch and crept out into the gar- 
 den, coming up to where she stood, with her 
 back towards him. 
 
 " Ma," he said softly ; and then a little louder, 
 ma." 
 
 " Marsie," she cried, " where are you ? " drop- 
 ping her watering-pot, and trembling. 
 
 "Here, ma," said the little culprit, meekly. 
 " I've got back ! " and he ran to her side. 
 
 " Oh, my little boy," she said, " how much 
 trouble you have made us." 
 
 He put his arms tenderly around her neck, no 
 doubt loving her just as much as if he had not 
 made her unhappy all day. 
 
 " Poor little headstrong boy ! " she said, kneel- 
 ing so as to look into her truant's face, " where 
 have you been ? " 
 
 Then Mars began to sob, and laid his tired 
 head on her shoulder. He said nothing, but she 
 knew the hasty child was repenting his naughty 
 day's work. 
 
 She called to Nanny, sitting on the front door-
 
 Mars's Adventure. 61 
 
 step : " Run and find your father, Nanny, and 
 tell him Mars is here ! " Then she led him in, 
 sat him down, and began taking off the dusty 
 shoes ; while Bridget, full of " ahs " and " ohs," 
 in all keys from joy to reproach, got him some 
 bread and milk. 
 
 " Hello, Mars," said Don, coming in with 
 hands in his pockets, and scanning Mars as if he 
 were a curiosity, " where've you been ? " 
 
 The desire to seem a hero to Don made Mam 
 dry his tears at once. He answered with a very 
 consequential air : 
 
 " I've been way over to Murray's Corners." 
 
 The mother could hardly hide her smile at 
 Marsie's fickle penitence. 
 
 " The police are after you," said Don. 
 
 And indeed they were. A regular search for 
 the runaway had been organized, and Mr. Law- 
 rence had only just got home after attending to 
 its details. It was only towards nightfall that 
 their fright had become serious, for all supposed 
 Mars to have taken refuge with some friend, and 
 that supper-time would be sure to see him back. 
 When he did not come, however, A igorous meas- 
 ures had been taken to find him.
 
 62 Heart's Content. 
 
 Don was sent down street to announce that 
 the lost boy was safe, and while Mars ate his 
 bread and milk with heroic relish, a little slim 
 night-gowned figure came down-stairs laughing 
 with joy. It was Jane, who said softly, " oh, 
 Marsie's back ! " 
 
 His supper was finished amid questions from 
 the collected flock of children. Mrs. Lawrence 
 sat by in a sad silence, until he had drained the 
 last drop from his spoon, and then she rose to go 
 with him up-stairs. His offence had been too 
 serious to b& passed by with only a welcome, 
 and a tired " I'm sorry." 
 
 She bathed him, got him clean and sweet for 
 bed, and then knelt by him for his prayer. Be- 
 fore he began, she said : 
 
 " I want to talk a little with you first, my 
 child. I hope you will remember the next time 
 you get angry, how much grief and trouble it 
 costs everybody. Will you try ? " 
 
 " Oh, yes, mamma, I surely will." 
 
 " But that is not all, Mars," she went on. 
 " It is very easy to promise, but that is the small- 
 est part of obedience. I know you are very 
 tired and need to rest, but vou must listen to
 
 Mars's Adventure. 63 
 
 mother first. I want you to realize how wicked 
 it is to get so angry, and how dreadful the re- 
 sults are. Before you go to sleep, think it over 
 in your little mind, and besides your prayer 
 which you say every night, I want you to make 
 a special one to God that He will forgive you." 
 
 Mars, somehow, could hardly bear the sound 
 of his mother's voice. It had never seemed so 
 kind, but if she would only scold him, or be 
 severe, he felt he could be braver. 
 
 He made a pitiful little prayer, all his own, 
 and gave his mother an extra hug before he 
 crept into bed. There he wet his pillow with 
 such tears as he would have been ashamed to 
 have Don see, and he did not readily fall asleep, 
 tired as he was. 
 
 Aunt Ann, upon the wanderer's return, had 
 said that she thought he ought to be severely 
 whipped nothing else could break his violent 
 spirit. Mrs. Lawrence merely said : 
 
 " If you feel so, sister, you may do it." 
 
 And of course there was no whipping. She 
 was duly told of his shame and grief, and it was 
 with difficulty that she restrained herself from
 
 64 Heart's Content. 
 
 going to his chamber to pity and comfort him. 
 So much for what was savage in that loving 
 heart ! 
 
 Next morning as soon as he was dressed, 
 Mars hurried to his mother. 
 
 " Oh, mamma, if somebody would only scold 
 me, I shouldn't be half so wicked ! I'm sure it 
 would make me better." 
 
 " No, dear," his mother replied, " what is to 
 make you better is not a scolding, but the feel- 
 ing of sorrow in your heart that you have done 
 wrong. When one is conscious of wrong-doing, 
 that is the first step toward repentance. And 
 when one truly repents, then he has begun to be 
 better." 
 
 " Well, mamma," he replied, " try me now and 
 watch me, and see if you don't think I am sorry. 
 I know E am." 
 
 Mrs. Lawrence felt sure that Mars expressed 
 his true feeling to her, a thing his native obsti- 
 nacy and boyish wilfulness were not likely to 
 permit him to do to others. She was content 
 with the inner and real regret which he mani- 
 fested to her, and did not require any public ex- 
 pression of it.
 
 Mars's Adventure. 65 
 
 She thought it better not to run the risk of 
 counteracting the good gained by any exaction, 
 which, in humiliating him, might drive him to 
 further anger. By trusting him, she hoped to 
 make him feel that he could be good when he 
 tried.
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 A DAY OP DISTKESSES. 
 
 " Knowledge never learned at school, 
 Of the black wasp's cunning way, 
 Mason of his walls of clay, 
 And the architectural pleas, 
 Of grey hornet artisans." 
 
 AFTER Mars's escapade he was looked upon 
 with great superciliousness by the rest as a 
 very bad boy ; Don only having the sense to be 
 rather more careful than usual not to offend or 
 irritate him ; for Don had a great admiration in 
 his heart for what he called his little brother's 
 " pluck." 
 
 Still a measure of antagonism must be kept 
 up in order to maintain the proper relations be- 
 tween them. This was good-natured on Don's 
 66
 
 A Day of Distresses. 67 
 
 part very nearly always ; but that did not hin- 
 der it being a spark to the powder of Mars's 
 temper, and no day could pass without more or 
 less explosions. 
 
 Yet with all this, Don kept a watchful eye 
 upon such other boys as seemed likely to impose- 
 in any way upon Mars, and more than once he 
 interfered where hurt seemed to threaten him. 
 Mars could fight his own battles as long as his 
 strength held out, but he had no discretion. 
 
 He would attack a big boy without the least 
 hesitancy indeed he never cared to fight with 
 any but big boys. He was a generous foe, after 
 he had punished his assailant or offender as 
 much as he wanted to, and forgot all malice or 
 wounds at once. 
 
 He felt very much ashamed of his running 
 awa} T , but he did not like to own it. If any 
 questions were asked, he answered boldly, as if 
 rather proud of it ; but that was merely to cover 
 a real regret and repentance. 
 
 Jane alone never teased him. Indeed, timid 
 as she was, she would have gone with him in an 
 instant if he had advised it ; so loyal was she in
 
 68 Heart's Content. 
 
 the belief that Mars was always in the right, and 
 could never do wrong. 
 
 She was Mars's comfort in disgrace, and in 
 return was made the possessor of all his cast-off 
 playthings. When he was thoroughly tired of a 
 toy, or of one of the productions of his ingenious 
 jack-knife, he gave it to her with great magna- 
 nimity. 
 
 Meanwhile, as a matter of course, the baby 
 grew, and was now an indispensable part of the 
 household. She was called Charlotte for her 
 mother, and June was her middle name, at 
 Mars's request, seconded warmly by Jane. 
 Charlotte, however, was too long for ordinary 
 use. And so, because she had such little feet 
 such very little ones they grew to call her 
 Totty. 
 
 She was the brightest baby in the world, and 
 liked nothing better than to be played with, and 
 the noisier the play, the more delighted she 
 seemed. 
 
 Jane's motherly passion was to "hold" this 
 baby. It was her greatest reward. She did not 
 even like to go to school any more, because she 
 had to leave her. It was her fashion to sit in
 
 A Day of Distresses. 69 
 
 her little rocking-chair, and to get her lap all 
 ready, and when the baby was placed in her 
 arms, newly-washed and as sweet as a rose, she 
 could not kiss her enough, or be too tender of 
 her. She was so thoroughly to be trusted that 
 the privilege was often granted her. 
 
 Yet with all her love and care, something hap- 
 pened one morning that she did not soon forget. 
 
 " Mayn't I hold Totty a little while before I 
 go to school ? " she coaxed, as she was sure to 
 do day after day, as she watched mamma give 
 the pretty bath. 
 
 " Ah, but she must sleep a little first," said 
 mamma. 
 
 " But if she sleeps I shall be late," sighed 
 Jane, in a despair so genuine that it was comic. 
 
 "Well, then, for a few minutes," consented 
 mamma. "Hold her carefully, little mother," 
 she cautioned, as she placed her in her arms. 
 
 Then Trudge got down upon the floor to 
 search for the cunning feet under the long 
 skirts, and there was great cooing and twitter- 
 ing over it all ; when in rushed Nanny, with 
 great exclamations, holding a helpless young 
 robin in her hand.
 
 70 Heart's Content. 
 
 It had fallen from an overcrowded nest, and 
 was too young to fly. Its little heart panted 
 and throbbed under the half-grown feathers, and 
 it made pitiful efforts to get away. 
 
 This was a treasure. Mars was in her wake 
 with eager plans for a cage. " I can build it 
 with wires, he cried, " and we can keep it for- 
 ever and ever ! " 
 
 How it happened nobody ever knew, but there 
 came a sudden bump, and a wail, and to the 
 consternation of all, Jane had dropped the baby ! 
 
 Such an unheard-of thing it was for Jane to 
 be heedless ; she who was the only one, except 
 Don, of the children entrusted with the precious 
 charge ! 
 
 Mamma flew to pick up the baby, robin and 
 cage were forgotten, and pity fell plentifully 
 from all for the bruised Totty. 
 
 Nobody thought to pity Jane, who sat pale 
 and with quivering lip. Only Aunt Ann, who 
 knew that hers was the worst hurt, tried to 
 make light of it with her, " Never mind, now j 
 be a good girl and don't cry ! " 
 
 Jane crept softly out into the kitchen where 
 her cat lay in a comfortable coil upon the settle,
 
 A Day of Distresses. 71 
 
 fast asleep. She buried her face in his \\arm 
 fur, and sobbed as if her heart was broken. She 
 would never ask to hold Totty again, never. 
 Perhaps she had killed her who could tell? 
 Sob after sob shook her little body. Meanwhile 
 old Tom purred at the pleasant disturbance. 
 
 Aunt Ann came bustling out : 
 
 "Oh, dear child, Totty isn't hurt. Never 
 mind, never mind ! Come now, you must get 
 ready for school. You shall hold Totty when- 
 ever you like only don't cry ! It was a mis- 
 take now, run and wash off your tears ! '' 
 
 And Jane was glad to go out so that she could 
 dry her eyes and hush her sobbing by herself. 
 
 Marsie went to work at his cage with all 
 energy ; but Nanny, full of changing impulses, 
 tiring quickly of the care of her great discovery, 
 carried it out and put it in the soft gras's, where' 
 it disappeared and was never seen again. 
 
 Jane had cried so much that she did not go 
 to school at all that day ; nor would she take 
 Totty again, though urged to do so. She was 
 glad, therefore, when after a long quiet daj r to 
 herself, it at last came four o'clock, and she 
 heard Marsie shouting down the walk on his
 
 72 Heart's Content. 
 
 way home, and saw Nanny scampering, bare- 
 headed, after him, with Trudge and her primer 
 in the distance. 
 
 She ran to the gate to meet them, and skipped 
 along very gleefully in answer to Nanny's call 
 to come and play in the barn. 
 
 This was a favorite place. The sweet, newly- 
 dried clover was piled to the roof, and sloped 
 from there down to a lower mow, which in turn 
 sloped to the floor. 
 
 The chief sport was to climb around at the 
 side, in a winding fashion, until the top was 
 reached ; jump from that, full into the air, to the 
 lower mow, and from the lower mow to slide 
 down to the floor. 
 
 It was hard work, but was full of a hazardous 
 sort of fun. In it they always grew breathless 
 with scrambling and laughter. 
 
 Nanny was always ahead the strongest to 
 climb up the slippery stair, and the most daring 
 in her leaps from the highest loft. 
 
 Little Jane was passed and repassed, however 
 hard she tried to .keep up ; and even Trudge, 
 with her rotund awkwardness, distanced her ,*
 
 A Day of Distresses. 73 
 
 for her side ached, and her arms and legs would 
 continually give out. 
 
 Nanny was surely made of gutta-percha, and 
 Trudge was a ball, that did all her exercise in 
 rolling ; but Jane was neither, and gave out 
 over and over again. 
 
 Nanny had a good-natured contempt for her 
 weaker sister, as the strong are apt to have for 
 those who cannot endure equally with them- 
 selves. 
 
 " Does your side ache, Jane ? "she asked, with 
 mock concern. 
 
 "Yes," gasped Jane. 
 
 "Then let it ache," replied Nanny, rather 
 heartlessly, stretching herself at full length 
 on the sweet hay. 
 
 Presently she got up, and began again to 
 climb to the very top of the upper mow. It 
 was heavy and hot work, and her progress was 
 slow. 
 
 When almost to the summit, she noticed a 
 large gray bunch, up in the corner under the 
 roof. It was cone-shaped and smooth, and she 
 knew it was a wasp nest. This was something 
 new, and she was seized with a desire to get at it,
 
 74 Heart's Content. 
 
 She wanted to take it clown to put into her 
 play-house ; but dared not touch it with her 
 hands. 
 
 "Jane! Trudge!" she called, "I've found a 
 nest!" 
 
 This at once put spirit into the tired Trudge, 
 who straightway sprang up and began to climb 
 after Nanny. 
 
 " Oh, Trudge, fetch me a long stick ! " called 
 Nanny from her perch; "I can get the nest to 
 take home." 
 
 Jane grew curious, and crawled around where 
 she could see, and then she beheld her horror 
 of horrors _a wasp nest ! 
 
 " Oh, don't ! " she began to plead ; " Nanny, 
 they'll bite you ! " 
 
 "No, they won't they've all got the side- 
 ache," Nanny called back, laughing at Jane's 
 silly fears. Meanwhile Trudge had got a stick, 
 and it was in Nanny's hands. 
 
 She poked the gray bunch carefully at first, 
 hardly touching it but at last with a furious 
 punch that did all the mischief Jane had feared. 
 Out rushed a swarm of wasps, assailing Nanny, 
 who made a wild leap into the air, striking the
 
 A Day of Distresses. 75 
 
 lower mow, and rolling from there to the floor. 
 The vengeful little creatures were not content 
 with her, but flew at Trudge also, and one found 
 Jane, and to her terror, stung her hand. 
 
 Nanny began howling, and Trudge joined the 
 concert. 
 
 All ran to the house, and poor Nanny's arms 
 and neck were " bitten" indeed. But worst of 
 all, one or two crawled under the band of her 
 dress down upon her shoulders, and it would 
 have been hard to count the poultices she 
 needed. 
 
 " Oh," she sobbed, "I didn't hurt one. I only 
 poked it ! " And she was told it was safer 
 always not to " poke " a wasp-nest. 
 
 Jane could not help thinking secretly to herself 
 that it might all be a punishment on Nanny for 
 making fun of her side-ache. How she ac- 
 counted for the one sting she had herself re- 
 ceived, is not known, but probably a blister upon 
 her hand and one upon Nanny's were quite dif- 
 ferent affairs as matters of retribution. 
 
 This day must have been foredoomed as one 
 of tragedies. 
 
 Don had come home a little later than the
 
 76 Heart's Content. 
 
 rest; and finding the lower part of the house 
 silent, had gone up-stairs to see if he could dis- 
 cover their whereabouts. 
 
 But that, too, was still only the white cur- 
 tains rustled softly in and out from the open win- 
 dows, in the indolent breeze. 
 
 The play-room was in order, and no sign of its 
 busy owners could be seen, except the neatly- 
 ranged boxes of toys, and now and then a grave 
 doll perched upright in some comfortable place. 
 Aunt Ann was very troublesome on the question 
 of order and neatness among the playthings. 
 
 Evidently the children had not been up-stairs 
 since morning, and must be elsewhere at play. 
 Then the spirit of mischief, which dwells no- 
 where in such vigor and activity as in a twelve- 
 j^ear-old boy's heart, inspired Don. He forgot 
 all schemes of his own, and all the dignity de- 
 pendent upon him as the oldest, and a student of 
 Latin, and began to rummage. 
 
 Jane's corner was more plentifully stocked 
 with choice things than any other. Her family 
 of dolls was the largest, and ranged from a lovely 
 Christmas creature, with flaxen ringlets and
 
 A Day ^f Distresses. 77 
 
 black eyes, down to a huge rag-baby, dilapidated 
 and limp at the joints, and with no merit in the 
 world except her weight, which was quite that 
 of a real baby. 
 
 Don collected the miscellaneous families. He 
 found no less than thirteen treasures, in all stages 
 of dress and undress. 
 
 He had a grim smile on his face, and went to 
 work with an energy worthy a better cause. 
 
 In the play-room the stove, which had a long 
 pipe extending through another room into the 
 chimney, was never taken down in summer, but 
 was left in its place to be used on rainy and chill 
 days. 
 
 Don drew from his pockets a supply of strings ; 
 and one by one he hung the dolls by their necks 
 to this stove pipe the largest first, and from 
 that in a ghastly grade down to the smallest, in 
 her full ball-dress of pink silk and lace. 
 
 It took him a full half hour to do this, and he 
 was well heated and tired ; but all the time the 
 most intense satisfaction beamed upon his face. 
 And when the row was completed, he stood back 
 and scanned it with exultation. The breeze
 
 78 . Heart's Content. 
 
 swung them slowly to and fro, and they looked 
 like the work of some pigmy vigilance com- 
 mittee. 
 
 After fully enjoying the sight, Don was just 
 about to go down-stairs, when he heard Nanny's 
 howls. Of course he ran with all haste to see 
 what was the matter, and helped to dress the 
 wounds. In that way the hanging passed utterly 
 out of his mind for the time being. 
 
 The confusion of the wasp affair did not fully 
 subside until after the tired children had had 
 their suppers ; and then Jane stole off up-stairs 
 for a little communion with her family. She 
 was very fond of solitary play with her dolls ; 
 for then she could lavish all the tenderness she 
 wished upon them, without fear of Nanny's laugh 
 or of Mars's sneer. 
 
 What a dreadful sight met her eyes ! She was 
 stricken dumb. She could only stand and gaze 
 at the disgraceful spectacle of Neida, and Rose, 
 and Juliet, and the rest, with bits of twine about 
 their necks, swa} T ing about helplessly in the 
 evening wind. 
 
 Never in all her life before had she felt such 
 an overwhelming indignation. Her heart fairly
 
 A Day of Distresses. 79 
 
 stopped. She could neither speak nor cry ; she 
 only stamped her little foot. 
 
 No one had ever given her credit for spirit 
 enough to resent an injury; but this event 
 proved that she had it, for Mars himself could 
 not have better risen to the occasion. It was 
 such a great rage for such a small body. 
 
 " Oh, oh ! " she moaned, " what can I do ? " 
 
 Down-stairs she ran to Mars, out of breath, 
 arid furious. He was always her first refuge. 
 She could scarcely tell him, and when finally she 
 did make him understand that all her dolls were 
 hung to the stove-pipe, he, for once, forgot to 
 soothe her and sympathize with her, but gave an 
 exulting whoop, and skipped off to see the 
 "lark." 
 
 The boy in him was stronger than the brother, 
 and he shrieked with merriment as he saw the 
 array, and secretly wished that he had been the 
 one to think of it first. 
 
 At this Jane's rage was turned to grief, and 
 she burst into dreadful crying. She had done 
 little but cry that day, and this was the last 
 straw to her endurance. Indeed, she was sick 
 with grief, and fit only to be put to bed.
 
 80 Heart's Content. 
 
 Don was thoroughly frightened when he saw 
 how terribly she took his prank to heart ; and 
 stole up-stairs in the dark, and cut each doll 
 from its noose, and put it back respectfully into 
 its place, and then sought Jane to say : 
 
 " They're all right now, Jenny. I only meant 
 to give them an airing, and I didn't think you'd 
 feel so bad about it. If you won't cry any more, 
 I'll make a sled for Rosy next winter." 
 
 Jane allowed herself to be appeased ; and the 
 subject was not referred to again in her presence. 
 But behind her back the rest lifted their eye- 
 brows and smiled to each other with amusement 
 at this new departure in temper, and Don said, 
 " whew ! how mad Jane got I "
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 THE NAUGHTY TRICK. 
 
 " She has thrown her bonnet by. 
 And her feet she has been dipping 
 
 In the shallow water's flow ; 
 
 Now she holds them nakedly, 
 In her hands all sleek and dripping, 
 
 While she rocketh to and fro." 
 
 NEXT day, Jane, having no grief to hinder, 
 went with the rest to school. 
 She had one source of trouble in school, and 
 that was her sensitiveness about Nanny, who, 
 though bright and ready, had, alas, very little 
 knowledge of her lessons as a general thing. 
 Against her name on the teacher's roll was an 
 apalling array of black marks attendance, de- 
 portment, and the various studies all looked 
 alike in that respect. Scarcely any girl in school 
 Si
 
 82 Heart's Content. 
 
 had such a crowd of shadows on her record ; and 
 yet, there was scarcely a girl to whom a " black 
 mark " gave such grief as to Nanny. 
 
 One reason, perhaps, that her showing was so 
 bacl, was that each girl was required to give in 
 her own standing at the close of each day ; and 
 Nanny never shirked a whisper, nor a missed 
 lesson. Days when she had more than usual to 
 answer for, she might be seen starting for home 
 with her little pug nose all swelled with crying. 
 She always repented ; but still always forgot to 
 reform. 
 
 And then the contrast between her report and 
 Jane's, who hadn't an atom of mischief in her, 
 was a very trying one. Jane could never run 
 off in a bareheaded chase over the hills at noon, 
 because of that pain in her side when she ran ; 
 and so she was never tardy. Jane was shy and 
 reserved, and not such a favorite as Nanny ; and 
 so her temptations were fewer, and, of course, 
 her lessons were better learned. 
 
 But Jane always shared in the 'grief over 
 Nanny's disgraces ; and when, after reports, 
 Nanny's little black-braided head dropped sud- 
 denly and desperately upon her arm on the desk,
 
 The Naughty Trick. 83 
 
 Jane's little black-braided head was sure to fol- 
 low fashion. Nanny should not be left to cry- 
 alone ! 
 
 But if her pug nose cooled off from its hot 
 bath of tears before she was half way home, it 
 was not so with Jane's. You would have 
 thought Jane the culprit, and Nanny merely her 
 careless sympathizer. 
 
 Indeed, Jane's clean, fair credit marks were a 
 source of nearly as much pain to her as Nanny's 
 black ones. She much preferred that Nanny 
 should have the best of everything, if only she 
 could have had it so. She sometimes resolved 
 in her mild little soul to do something dreadful 
 much more unruly and dreadful than Nanny 
 ever thought of doing ; but she did not know 
 how. Nanny could be in hot water all day long, 
 without any effort ; but with all the racking of 
 her little brain, Jane could not devise a single 
 misdemeanor. 
 
 But in the whole school Nanny's was the 
 favorite desk to pupils and teachers alike. It 
 was hard for any one to frown when, instead of 
 studying, Nanny's roving eyes found something 
 to laugh at. Such a laugh as it was !
 
 84 Heart's Content. 
 
 Teeth like two white regular rows of corn on 
 a cob ; cheeks of the sound round apple kind, 
 that one would almost wish to bite ; and eyes 
 that sparkled with full child health and happi- 
 ness. She never meant to laugh, never sought 
 to be diverted from duty ; but a funny picture 
 on a slate, or a face made up into ugly shapes 
 behind a book, was enough to start every dim- 
 ple, and to reveal every tooth. 
 
 I am sure her black marks were given her 
 more because, from her own open confessions, 
 they could not be avoided, than because any one 
 supposed she deserved so many. 
 
 But I am sorry to say that this day Nanny 
 was guilty of a naughty trick. Among the 
 pupils the school was a " select " one was a 
 girl who did not really belong there. She was 
 like a crow among a flock of canaries. The 
 more pretentious of the misses turned up their 
 noses openly at her ; and no one sought her 
 friendship, or phiyed with her, or studied with 
 her. She seemed inoffensive and harmless 
 enough, except that she was given to tale-bear- 
 ing ; and this, of course, made her enemies at 
 once.
 
 The Naughty Trick. 85 
 
 She was scoffed at and berated; but this only 
 made her more persistent. None of the girls 
 could hope to escape her sly watchfulness ; and 
 if any secret sport was on foot, she was sure to 
 discover who the leaders were, and to tell of it. 
 Her name was Maggie Toole. The children 
 scornfully shortened it to " Mag," and always 
 spoke of it with broad harsh emphasis, as if to 
 convey the dislike they felt for her. 
 
 " Mag Toole " was often made to rhyme with 
 an ignominious word; and "Mag Toole did it," 
 was sure to be the verdict, if anything offensive 
 was done. 
 
 It was the noon hour, and nearly all the 
 misses brought lunches and ate them out 
 under the trees, or under shelter of the great 
 piaz/a. Half a score of the girls were chatter- 
 ing and nibbling their sandwiches, when some 
 one said: 
 
 " I'm so sick of playing forever under these 
 same trees. Let's go down to the river ! " 
 
 The river ran at the foot of the hill upon 
 which the " seminary " stood ; but they had 
 been forbidden to go there. It was too far, for 
 one reason ; and for another they were obliged
 
 86 Heart's Content. 
 
 to cross the railroad track to reach it ; and that 
 was thought dangerous. 
 
 But no sooner was it proposed, than all seemed 
 possessed with the spirit of disobedience. They 
 despatched their lunches in hot haste, and away 
 they secretly fled. The noon hour was prover- 
 bial for being the shortest one in the six. 
 
 Going down the hill was easy enough. They 
 plunged, and raced, arid tumbled and shouted, 
 and withal got very heated before they reached 
 the river-bank. 
 
 The water gurgled along with a cool voice, 
 and glistened on the clean stones, and swept 
 into tiny whirlpools, and bathed the drooping 
 branches of the shore willows. It was very 
 tempting and beautiful. 
 
 They dipped water into their hands and 
 drank ; they bathed their hot faces and arms ; 
 they skipped small stones, and splashed larger 
 ones ; they all talked at once, and were quite 
 excited with their adventure. 
 
 " Oh, let's wade ! " shouted Nanny. 
 
 No sooner was this thought of, than off came 
 shoes and stockings. And in they went, with 
 shrieks of delight at the coolness, and shrieks of
 
 The Naughty Trick. 87 
 
 remonstrance at the stones that hurt their 
 tender, bare feet. 
 
 Nanny loved the water like a fish. She 
 ventured further and enjoyed it more than 
 any one else. Jane, for a wonder, was one of 
 the number, persuaded to it quite unawares ; 
 but she was shrinking, and not altogether happy. 
 The disobedience was a burden on her con- 
 science, and the wild race down the hill had 
 tired her very much. 
 
 " Oh, see where I am ! " screamed Nanny, 
 quite far out from shore, on a shoal of sand. 
 " Oh ! Jane, it's easy. Come out here." 
 
 " Nanny, Nanny," pleaded Jane, " you'll 
 drown ! " as she saw Nanny's little white legs 
 waver and crinkle as the water flowed round 
 them. 
 
 " No, I won't," cried back the fearless, easy 
 voice. " It's soft here, and don't hurt my feet." 
 
 Jane had no courage. She was terrified and 
 Jrembling ; but she was desperate at Nanny's 
 danger. 
 
 And so, without any caution or prudence, 
 she made a rapid rush to gain the shoal through 
 the swift water; and gained it, only to have
 
 88 Heart's Content. 
 
 both feet slip suddenly from under her, and to 
 find herself seated to the waist in water a half 
 dozen feet from shore. 
 
 Back went Nanny's merry head, as both 
 hands let go the skirts she had so carefully kept 
 dry, so that they might clap together, while 
 she laughed a long, delighted laugh, not unlike 
 the water itself in music. 
 
 In an instant, however, she saw the pitiful 
 fright in little Jane's face ; and taking her under 
 the arms, helped her to stand ; and from that 
 to reach the shore. 
 
 The water may have been, at most, ten inches 
 deep ; but Jane thought of the picture in her 
 Sunday-school book of Pharaoh's host swal- 
 lowed up in the Red Sea ; and her adventure 
 assumed the full magnitude of that in her eyes. 
 She was so bewildered at finding herself stand- 
 ing on dry land, unhurt, though dripping, that 
 she began to cry aloud with a plaintive voice. 
 
 Nanny thought it such fun, that she lay on 
 the bank and laughed till the tears came. How- 
 ever, when she found that Jane's was genuine 
 weeping and wailing, she aroused to the knowl- 
 edge that they were both very wet ; and that
 
 The Naughty Trick. 89 
 
 Jane trickled from her waist downward, like 
 old dog Zeus after a swim. So she began to 
 wring her in places ; and to grow grave as she 
 realized that wringing did n'ot seem to dry 
 her off. 
 
 " Oh-o-o-o ! " moaned Jane, in a long treble 
 howl. " Oh-o-o-o ! " 
 
 "Don't cry," reassured Nanny, "we'll dry 
 you in the sun." 
 
 But there was no comfort for the dripping 
 child. " School home black-marks," rushed 
 in reproachful confusion upon her mind. She 
 had run away and oh dear ! 
 
 Nanny found it was hopeless. Drizzle here, 
 and trickle there, came the water out of Jane's 
 clothing. Nanny, too, had a Bible thought. 
 Her last Sunday's lesson had been about Moses 
 smiting the rock, and the water gushing forth. 
 She thought maybe Jane would continue to run 
 like that ; and despair swept over her. 
 
 "Oh, don't cry!" she begged. "Try to 
 wring it out ! Girls, try to wring her out ! " 
 to the awed, bare-legged group that had gath- 
 ered about them. 
 
 They began with a will. Jane's fresh cam-
 
 90 Heart's Content. 
 
 brie was soon a distorted, wrinkled mass with 
 no promise, however, of ever becoming dry. 
 
 Finally, with a shock to all concerned, some 
 one suggested that it must be " school-time." 
 
 Then began a pulling of stockings on to 
 damp, sandy and bruised feet. 
 
 Before many minutes all were ready after a 
 dishevelled fashion, except Nanny and Jane. 
 
 "We shall have to go home," said Nanny. 
 At this, Jane broke out afresh ; and Nanny, 
 herself came very near, for once, joining in 
 the clamor. But so they decided it. They 
 would go directly home. 
 
 Not verj r like the high glee of their bounding 
 down an hour before, toiled back the tired 
 children up the hill, towards unlearned lessons 
 and possible punishment. 
 
 It was hot work. They had no mirth to 
 beguile them. Nanny was leading her little 
 mussed-up, sobbing sister, herself in woful 
 plight, and all her merriment vanished. Upon 
 reaching the top of the hill they filed off 
 towards home, while the rest went, like doomed 
 creatures to their fate. 
 
 Before reaching the school-room door, how-
 
 The Naughty Trick. 91 
 
 ever, the natural instinct to shield themselves 
 came to their relief, and they hurriedly agreed 
 "not to tell." They were not very late not 
 more than five minutes and took their tardy 
 marks with good grace, considering themselves 
 lucky to get off so easy. Nanny and Jane 
 were marked, but no questions asked about 
 them. 
 
 The next morning, before school, there was a 
 buzz of suppressed excitement. Nanny and 
 Jane were there in spick-and-span clean dresses ; 
 Jane drooping and pale, and Nanny melancholy, 
 but looking very much like a ripe apple. The 
 girls of the truant party gathered eagerly round 
 them, with : 
 
 " Say, we didn't tell ! " " Say, nobody knows 
 it ; and all we got was a tardy mark ! " 
 
 Then laughing and congratulations and ex- 
 ultations followed. 
 
 After prayers, and just as study was about to 
 begin, apple-faced Nanny now a little pale, 
 however took Jane's limp hand, and both 
 went to the teacher's desk, where, before a word 
 could be said, Jane fell to sobbing, until her 
 body shook like a leaf in a storm. Nanny trem-
 
 92 Heart's Content. 
 
 bled, but looked with straightforward tearful 
 eyes into the teacher's face, as she handed her a 
 note. The teacher read : 
 
 " Dear Madam : My little girls, Nanny and 
 Jane, disobeyed you yesterday, by going to the 
 river without your knowledge. Their clothes 
 were wet, and they were obliged to come home. 
 They are very sorry, I am sure, and wish to ask 
 your forgiveness. 
 
 " Their Sorrowful Mother" 
 
 The teacher was much beloved, and as she fin- 
 ished, and turned her gentle reproachful eyes 
 upon the culprits, it was almost more than 
 Nanny's heroism could endure. Jane saw noth- 
 ing, as she was shedding her tears into her two 
 hands. 
 
 " Nanny, I am surprised," began madame. 
 
 " Jane wasn't to blame," put in Nanny, " She 
 never did it before." 
 
 " Were you alone ? " asked madame, with 
 perchance a remembrance of yesterday's tardy 
 ones crossing her mind. 
 
 Nanny would not flinch ; nor yet would she 
 tell. Keeping her honest eyes full upon her
 
 The Naughty Trick. 93 
 
 teacher, she hesitated, and then finally began to 
 beat about the bush a little, with, " Jane and I 
 yesterday noon we 'ran away." 
 
 " Yes, I understand," said madame, " but 
 were there not others with you ? " 
 
 " I can't tell," said Nanny, with decided firm- 
 ness. Then added, " We ask your pardon 
 Jane and me." 
 
 Just then a hand was lifted out in the room 
 not only lifted, but waved in an imperative man- 
 ner, to attract attention. It was Maggie Toole's. 
 The teacher nodded that she might speak. 
 
 "There were lots of 'em," she began, breath- 
 less with her eagerness to tell. "Kate Gray, 
 and Mollie Agnew, and " 
 
 " That will do," interrupted madame, before 
 the list could be finished. 
 
 Nanny fairly glared at the informant. " She 
 always tells of everybody," she burst out." I 
 wouldn't. I couldn't be so mean ! " 
 
 Since the cat was out of the bag, there seemed 
 to be a resolution among the guilty girls to make 
 a clean sweep of it. Each of the ones named 
 rose in her seat, as did the others, in a strug- 
 gling, reluctant fashion.
 
 94 Hearts Content. 
 
 The matter was thoroughly sifted, the disobe- 
 dient ones reprimanded, and Jane comforted ; 
 for, indeed, her little heart was nearly broken, 
 and she was unfit for stud}*- all day. Nanny 
 went back to her desk, tempered a little as to 
 merriment, but very wroth at Maggie Toole. 
 
 I have said that Nanny was guilty of a 
 naughty trick. I did not then refer to the noon 
 prank ; but to this which grew out of it, and 
 which I am now to tell. 
 
 There was general indignation among the 
 girls over this last uncalled-for bit of tale-bear- 
 ing; and as Maggie turned her eyes to her 
 school-mates' faces she met bitter and scornful 
 looks, and ominous shakings of the head. But 
 she was a dull girl, and could not understand 
 that she had committed a breach of honor ; nor 
 that her mates were justly furious over it. So 
 she only smiled back in a sort of triumphant 
 way, as if she enjoyed their anger, and thought 
 herself quite a heroine to have aroused it. 
 
 The morning wore on. Little study could be 
 accomplished, with this smouldering feeling grow- 
 ing more violent the more it was repressed. 
 
 At last Nanny was tapped on the shoulder by
 
 The Naughty Trick. 95 
 
 the girl in the desk behind her, and a paper was 
 stealthily put into her hands. On it was printed 
 in large black letters " TATTLE TALE." 
 
 A movement indicated that it was meant for 
 Maggie, who was in the desk just in front. 
 Nanny's eyes twinkled. She understood what 
 was wanted; and, when unobserved bymadame, 
 reached quietly forward and pinned it on to 
 Maggie's dress behind. 
 
 There it was, in full view of all who sat 
 back, affording them the liveliest satisfaction. 
 As Nanny contemplated it, a sense of justice 
 achieved, softened the bitter one of resentment 
 that had kept her so miserably idle all the 
 morning. 
 
 The paper kept its place for the rest of the 
 forenoon, and was seen by all eyes except 
 madame's, who did not chance to get a glimpse 
 of Maggie's back. 
 
 However, at about the hour for dismissal, 
 Maggie crossed the room for some purpose, and 
 madamo saw the badge. There was a general 
 murmur of pleasure as she was seen to discover 
 it. Indeed, there was so audible a laugh that
 
 96 Heart's Content. 
 
 Maggie's attention was drawn by it, only to find 
 herself the subject of it. 
 
 She became instantly confused ; which so in- 
 creased the satisfaction of all concerned, that it 
 was with difficulty madame could restore order. 
 She summoned the disgraced girl to her desk, 
 and unpinning the paper, asked whose work it 
 was. There was an instant's dead silence. 
 
 Nanny, who had been laughing until the two 
 rows of white corn were more than usually visi- 
 ble, became half sober, while all her dimples 
 lessened. Then, with hand up, to claim mad- 
 ame's permission, and with eyes open and clear 
 of any malice, she spoke : 
 
 " I did it, madame." 
 
 " Did you print it ? " 
 
 *'No, ma'am." 
 
 "Who did?" 
 
 " I don't know." 
 
 "Why did you pin it there ? " 
 
 " She deserved it ; she is a tattle-tale." 
 
 Nanny's mates admired her wonderfully ; but 
 as she was not a bold girl, madame's severe 
 glance brought the blood to her cheeks. The
 
 The Naughty Trick. 97 
 
 flush swept up to her forehead, as Maggie began 
 to cry uproariously. 
 
 " Would you like any of your schoolmates to 
 do the same to you ? " was the next question. 
 
 " No, ma'am," was the tremulous reply. 
 
 " Is there not a rule we call the Golden Rule ? 
 Will you please repeat it, Nanny ? " 
 
 Nanny glanced at Jane, to discover her state 
 of mind ; and finding that, for once, she was not 
 crying in shame for her, she plucked up courage 
 and repeated : " Do unto others as you would 
 that they should do unto you." 
 
 This was an unexpected turn to affairs. What 
 had seemed a very just and righteous thing, was 
 shown in this quiet way, to be both unkind and 
 unchristian. 
 
 Nanny had no argument with which to sustain 
 herself; and though she had fortified herself 
 with, " she deserved it," that seemed now but a 
 shabby support, since it had no weight with 
 madam e. 
 
 Madame, who had watched the feeling among 
 the pupils all the morning, now went on to coun- 
 teract it, as far as she could, by showing that,
 
 98 Heart's Content. 
 
 however great may have been Maggie's fault in 
 tale-bearing, it was no reason why the rest should 
 be guilty of unladylike conduct in retaliation. 
 Maggie's punishment for wrong-doing did not 
 rest with them ; nor did they make the wrong 
 right by doing another wrong. 
 
 With this they were dismissed, convinced, 
 perhaps, though not altogether converted to 
 madame's view. 
 
 Maggie made the most of her grievance, and 
 went sobbing loudly on her way home. This 
 touched Nanny's heart. Her resentments were 
 short-lived. 
 
 She ran breathlessly after Maggie, threw her 
 arms around the obnoxious neck, and kissed her, 
 saying : 
 
 " Mag, I didn't mean to make you feel bad ; 
 but I do think it was awful mean for you to tell 
 of those girls." 
 
 At this she ran back to her friends, only to be 
 met with their unqualified disgust, and a gen- 
 eral cry of: 
 
 " Why, Nanny ! Before I'd kiss Mag Toole ! " 
 
 She paid no heed to this, not feeling the least
 
 The Naughty Trick. 99 
 
 disgrace at their opinion of her. With a care- 
 less and defiant toss of her head she set to work 
 with inextinguishable energy at the noon play. 
 Irrepressible she was, and happy as a lark, be- 
 cause she had atoned as far as she could for her 
 naughty trick.
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 THE BEGINNING OF A PROFESSION". 
 
 " In Love's dear chain so bright a link, 
 Thou idol of thy parents ; (drat the boy, 
 There goes my ink ! ) " 
 
 MARS'S desk at school, like Nanny's, was 
 one that required watching, its occupant 
 had so much leisure, and so little regular busi- 
 ness. He always began the day bright and 
 sweet ; and if his books had been less dull, would 
 probably have gone on the day through in that 
 frame of mind. But there was little in geog- 
 raphy to interest him ; there was nothing what- 
 ever in mental arithmetic that he cared for ; and 
 spelling was as useless as it was mysterious. So 
 between these three, and his reading lesson, his
 
 The Beginning of a Profession. 101 
 
 legs would get restless, and, before he suspected 
 any wrong, he was being called to account for 
 some misconduct. 
 
 At such times his favorite relief was to draw 
 portraits on his slate, with the names painted 
 underneath in startling legibility. The portraits 
 never bore any likeness to the originals, and 
 were remarkable only for big noses and crooked 
 feet. But all the same they made his impressi- 
 ble neighbors laugh, and that was all he wanted. 
 After he had been detected a number of times 
 in drawing his teacher, his slate was watched 
 with some distrust. 
 
 Yet, with all his idleness, Mars got very few 
 reproofs. He was a great thinker, and, if free to 
 talk, could puzzle any philosopher with his ques- 
 tions. No teacher could withstand his honest 
 innocence, and his real quickness when he cared 
 to be quick. 
 
 He wanted to be a man. To be as big as Don 
 was his ambition, and it spurred him always like 
 a thong ; for Don would keep just about such a 
 lofty distance in advance, however hard he tried, 
 and however impatiently he wished. 
 
 He made great plans as to what he would do
 
 102 Heart's Content. 
 
 when he was grown up. His little brain, indo- 
 lent as to routine, was busy as a bee in this way. 
 Of course he should be a great man he had 
 never doubted that and he had already chosen 
 his profession. 
 
 He intended to be a printer. He had looked 
 pretty well about town, into work-shops, and 
 offices and stores, and had found a business that 
 suited him. 
 
 Every Saturday, and every half-holiday, would 
 see his stubby figure climbing the dingy flights 
 of stairs that led to the office of the Evening 
 Star. Once at the door, a terrible shyness 
 would steal over him, and he would open it very 
 softly, and creep in so like a mouse that no one 
 minded him or hardly knew he was there. 
 
 But he kept his eyes open, and saw all the 
 wonders. First from one quiet corner and then 
 from another, he watched the men at their work- 
 and by watching learned fully as much as if he 
 had spent his time in asking questions. Every 
 part of the work had a charm for him ; but most 
 of all the presses, so powerful, yet so easy and 
 perfect in every motion.
 
 The Beginning of a Profession. 103 
 
 For a long time, looking on satisfied him ; but 
 at length, he was seized with a desire to print 
 for himself. 
 
 Mars had very little pocket money, as a gen- 
 eral thing, but at about this period he had accu- 
 mulated three cents. This seemed to him .cap- 
 ital enough for almost any enterprise, and he de- 
 termined to invest it. 
 
 With it shut tight in his little hand, he started 
 off, his first leisure morning, without a word to 
 any one of his plans. Out of the door, with a 
 whoop and a bang, he flew down the steps, and 
 out upon the sidewalk, with a great flapping of 
 arms, and, once there, fell into a pace that would 
 have done credit to a race-horse. 
 
 So it is little wonder that by the time he had 
 reached the top of the printing office stairs, he 
 was entirely out of breath. 
 
 He opened the door shyly, as usual, and stole 
 softly in. It was a pity his mother and sisters 
 could not have seen him at that instant, so sub- 
 dued as he was with awe and interest. They 
 had a belief that he was never still, unless asleep ; 
 but this was so near an approach to it, that it 
 must have both amazed and gratified them.
 
 104 Heart's Content. 
 
 He shut the door behind him so gently that 
 the foreman, who was busy near the centre of 
 the room, heard nothing, until the little figure 
 stood close to his elbow. 
 
 " I want some tj'pe," said Mars boldly, though 
 half under his breath. The man looked down 
 on him in wondering amusement. 
 
 " Some type ? " he said, " how much do you 
 want ? " 
 
 " Three cents worth." 
 
 The roan laughed outright. 
 
 " What is your name ? " he asked. 
 
 " Mars." 
 
 ".Mars what?" 
 
 " Mars Lawrence." 
 
 The man, who, luckily for Mars, proved to be 
 good-natured, went to a case, set up the name 
 and gave it to him ; for which, with a business- 
 like air, Mars proffered his three cents. 
 
 " Nonsense, keep your money ! " the man 
 said ; and out of the office went Mars not in 
 his usual office fashion, but in real home style, 
 with an eager rush and clatter down the stairs, 
 two steps at a time, and making noise enough 
 for a dozen boys.
 
 The Beginning of a Profession. 105 
 
 Home he went; but when about midway 
 there, came to an abrupt and total stop. An 
 idea had struck him. Why hadn't he said his 
 name was Marston, and thus have got more let- 
 ters? Yes, and why hadn't he said Frederick 
 Marston, which was his true name, and have 
 added just so much more to his alphabet? 
 
 The impulse to return and make known his 
 mistake was very strong, but was offset by his 
 impatience to get to work at printing as soon as 
 possible. So home he went. 
 
 He sought his father's study up-stairs, where 
 he knew he should find ink and paper. He set 
 to work. His hat was on the back of his head, 
 and he even forgot to whistle. 
 
 The types had fallen apart, but he set them 
 properly together again, and then wetted them 
 thoroughly with ink. He stamped them upon a 
 plain sheet of paper. Nothing but a blot and 
 blur ! He tried again, and then again, but 
 always with the same result he could not 
 make a single distinct letter. 
 
 Then he tried upon his father's blotter, first 
 with but little ink. and then with a great deal, 
 until it lookecf like a huge photograph of the
 
 106 Heart's Content. 
 
 moon; and finally the climax to all Mars's 
 perplexities he got mad. 
 
 Just then his father entered. He enquired 
 into the trouble ; and, learning what the matter 
 was, told him he should have printer's ink, which 
 is altogether different from writing ink. 
 
 At this information his temper cooled and his 
 spirits rose. Off he went again, and, in a very 
 short space of time, the man who had given him 
 the types heard a panting and puffing noise at 
 his elbow, and looking down, saw Mars, heated, 
 and gasping and eager. 
 
 " Well, my lad, what's wanted now ? " 
 
 " Ink ! " came from Mars like a projectile. 
 His fingers bore the marks of his bad luck in the 
 study, and the man understood. 
 
 However, it was with somewhat diminished 
 good-nature that he gave him a dab of ink on a 
 bit of paper, saying, as he did so : 
 
 "Now, be off!" 
 
 And off Mars went, without the least idea 
 that he had bothered anj-body. 
 
 With this ink he had better luck, and soon 
 grew quite skillful in stamping his name. He 
 gained his experience, however, at the cost of
 
 TJie Beginning of a Profession. 107 
 
 much distress to his mother. She found " Mars 
 Lawrence " in all stages of misplaced letters, 
 printed on everything on the table-cloth, 
 where he had eaten his breakfast ; on doors and 
 window-seats ; on her embroidery, and on nearly 
 every page of his school-books. He even printed 
 it slyly on the back of Jane's neck, at which she 
 smiled, though it made cold shivers run over 
 her. 
 
 But this grew tiresome. He wanted more let- 
 ters ; he would like Don's and Nanny's and 
 Jane's names. And to Mars there was always a 
 way. 
 
 He never wasted time in wishing or whining ; 
 and now his way was to go and ask for what he 
 wanted, as he had done at first. 
 
 But poor Mars got snubbed. At sight of him 
 for the third time, with his errand upon his face 
 as plain as if it had been printed there with his 
 own types, the foreman scowled. 
 
 "What now?" he asked gruffly. 
 
 Marsie's heart sank. Yet he managed to ex- 
 plain that it was Don's and Nanny's names now 
 that he wanted. 
 
 The man foresaw, doubtless, that his customer
 
 108 Heart's Content. 
 
 was likely to prove more prompt than profitable 
 and that it was wisest to put a stop to him at 
 once. And so in a very stern voice, and with a 
 look of great severity, he said : 
 
 " You've had enough already. Run home." 
 
 In almost any other place the little lock on 
 the crown of Mars's head would have bristled 
 up, and he would have contested his right to buy 
 all the type he wanted. But his natural anger 
 melted into dismay as he remembered that he no 
 longer had his three cents ; in the first flush of 
 his getting his type for nothing it had gone for 
 candy. 
 
 He retired crestfallen, and the man laughed 
 in an amused way, as his stubby figure retreated, 
 at the contrast between his coming and his 
 going. The first had been buoyant, certain, im-" 
 perative ; the last was stunned, disappointed, 
 mediative. 
 
 " He would have grown to be a nuisance," 
 the man murmured to himself, as a half regret 
 entered his heart at that childish dejection. 
 
 Mars more than ever wished that he was a 
 man. Then he could have a printing office of
 
 The Beginning of a Profession. 109 
 
 his own ; then he wouldn't have to depend upon 
 other people other people always got cross. 
 
 And, as he wished, the " volcano " began to 
 show signs of activit} r . Before he could really 
 comprehend that he had been told to " go home " 
 or, rather, as he began fully to comprehend 
 it he grew very angry. He swung his little 
 head ; he muttered defiant things to himself. 
 He would have a printing office of his own, in- 
 deed he would. 
 
 Fortunately, Mars's toys consisted mostly of 
 miniature tools. This was because of his 
 acknowledged ingenuity, and because he was 
 very fond of devising and " tinkering." He 
 had the tools to work with, and he did not 
 waste his time in resentment. 
 
 He went to work in earnest, at odd times, and 
 he did make a printing press, which was quite 
 a curiosity in its way. It printed very poorly, 
 but it did print, nevertheless. It was quite 
 likely to drop to pieces while in use, but was 
 quickly put together again ; for Mars knew 
 its weak parts, and expected it to break down 
 just about so often.
 
 110 Heart's Content. 
 
 Don declared he should die laughing, when 
 he first saw it, and Mars flew at him, for the 
 remark. 
 
 His father gave him some useful hints, and 
 he endeavored to improve his machine, upon 
 them. More than one day's play-time was 
 spent upon it, and he drew plans for it on his 
 slate, instead of his teacher's portrait. 
 
 He did not soon forgive the man who had 
 treated him so curtly, and forsook that office for 
 a rival one, where he was more hospitably 
 received.
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 THE GOD OF WAR AT A DISADVANTAGE. 
 
 " Bring forth the horse ! " The horse was brought, 
 In truth he was a noble steed." 
 
 AT last vacation came. The increasing 
 heat had made it very desirable to all. 
 Don's record, in study and deportment, was 
 a source of pride to the entire family at Heart's 
 Content. When he delivered the paper to his 
 father his manly cheek had a happy glow, for 
 he saw unusual approval in his father's kind 
 eyes. 
 
 " Why, Don," said Mr. Lawrence, " you've 
 done very well very well indeed." Then 
 glancing through the record again he said, mus- 
 ing and smiling, "he must talk with mother 
 about this." 
 
 in
 
 112 Heart's Content. 
 
 But mother had already seen it, and hers had 
 been tears of pleasure mother-fashion in- 
 stead of smiles. It seemed to her Don had 
 never given them any trouble ; that he was 
 really, and without natural maternal partiality, 
 the noblest, best boy she had ever known. 
 Everything regarding him gave them satisfac- 
 tion and pride. 
 
 The " talk " which Mr. Lawrence planned to 
 have with mother, was of something Don could 
 not have dreamed, even in his most sanguine 
 moments. It was a counsel as to whether Don 
 was not old enough to join this year in the 
 annual fishing excursion which his father made 
 to some inland lakes, quite a long distance from 
 home. Mr. Lawrence felt that Don fully de- 
 served this pleasure, if Mrs. Lawrence could 
 only be brought to feel quite reconciled to the 
 exposure and risk it involved. 
 
 Mr. Lawrence was an ardent sportsman, and 
 was accustomed to go once, and sometimes twice, 
 during the season, on fishing and shooting trips. 
 These had been Don's envy, year after year, 
 because he was considered too small to undergo 
 their fatigues.
 
 The God of War at a Disadvantage. 113 
 
 Now, however, since Mr. Lawrence felt he 
 ought to have some reward, this longed-for 
 enjoyment was proposed; and Mrs. Lawrence, 
 knowing Don's great desire, was too indulgent 
 to withhold her consent. 
 
 So the matter was decided and the promise 
 given, though the time for the journey was 
 fixed for the late summer, or early in September. 
 
 It did not take away from the zest of the 
 excursion any, to have it so long in anticipation. 
 It added to it, rather. It was something which 
 would bear dreaming about, and planning for. 
 There were lines and rods and hooks to be got- 
 ten in readiness ; the fitting up of various camp 
 conveniences, which Mr. Lawrence directed, and 
 which served to keep Don's odd hours pretty 
 well filled. 
 
 And Don never tired of talking of his pros- 
 pect, nor of building castles in the air over it 
 or rather of building a tent in the air, for they 
 were to be gone a week ; and were to live all 
 that time in a tent, like gipsies. 
 
 But this morsel, so sweet to Don, was worm- 
 wood and gall to Mars. We have seen that ho 
 could never resignedly get over the fact that
 
 114 Heart* Content. 
 
 he was younger and smaller than Don. What 
 Don had, he wanted ; what Don did, he wanted 
 to do. And it really grew to be such a source 
 of bitterness to him, day by day, that Mrs. Law- 
 rence felt it necessary to devise some plan that 
 should lead his mind away from it. 
 
 So she proposed that he go to his Uncle Fred's 
 in the country, for a week, on a visit to his 
 cousin Fanny. This plan had the desired effect. 
 His visit was to be made at once, while Don's 
 plan was yet in the distance. In that he de- 
 tected an advantage ; and his spirits rose 
 accordingly. 
 
 Still he rather dreaded a visit to a girl. It 
 did not sound well, and he generally corrected 
 the statement by emphasizing the fact -that it 
 was Uncle Fred he was going to see. Fanny 
 was a hoyden, and could out-Herod Mars in 
 mischief, any day. Mars liked her spirit, but 
 was in terror of her, nevertheless. 
 
 He was to go a few miles by rail, and there 
 Pat, Uncle Fred's man, was to meet him with 
 old familiar Brown Bilty the pony, and the 
 buggy, and he was to go twelve miles further 
 into the country.
 
 The God of War at a Disadvantage. 115 
 
 The day came ; and his leave-taking was joy- 
 ous and exuberant. Don drove him to the 
 station with his own mouse-colored pony, and 
 Mars bowed again and again to the girls who 
 were throwing kisses to him from the gate. 
 
 Jane's kisses, however, came vaguely from 
 the depths of her apron, in which her face was 
 buried with sobs. Mars's holiday promised 
 bitter loneliness for her, she thought. And, 
 indeed, who would there be to patronize her, 
 and to send her on countless errands, hither and 
 thither, and to dictate to her, and to lord it 
 over her, generally, when Mars was gone ? Sim- 
 ple little woman, she mourned for her tyrant ! 
 
 Mars's hair was sleekly brushed, and he wore 
 the most shining of faces. But Jane's' tears 
 were a brackish drop in the otherwise sweet 
 draught of his complacence ; and he called out 
 to her, the last thing : 
 
 " Never mind, Janey, I'll be back in a Aveek ! " 
 
 When near the station, evidently having been 
 for some minutes plunged into deep thought, 
 he brought from the depths of his pocket a 
 stubbed Uit of lead pencil blue at one end, 
 and red at the other. This, next to his broken-
 
 116 Heart's Content. 
 
 bladed knife, was his chief treasure, and had 
 been pretty much worn out in miscellaneous 
 service. 
 
 " Don, I want you to give Janey this pencil 
 until I come back," he said, with a business-like 
 air. "And tell her not to lose it," he added, as he 
 realized the height and depth of his generosity. 
 
 This act seemed to dispel the haunting ghost 
 of Jane's tears, and to leave him free to the full 
 enjoyment of everything about him. 
 
 To part from Don, as the train swept up to 
 the station, placed no strain upon his feelings. 
 The importance of his journey was now the all- 
 absorbing thought. 
 
 That part of it by rail was quickly made ; 
 and at its end Pat was on hand with Brown 
 Billy, and Mars and his carpet-bag were soon 
 adjusted, and all went bowling along over the 
 dusty road toward Uncle Fred's. 
 
 Past grain-laden hills they joggedj through 
 thick, still woods, over rude bridges, with noisy 
 water underneath ; and, finally, when Mars had 
 got very tired and very hungry, he spied the 
 great farm-house overhung with its tall elms,
 
 The God of War at a Disadvantage. 117 
 
 shining white -and hospitable at the summit of a 
 long knoll. 
 
 It was harvest-time, and men were in the 
 field cutting the wheat. It was so much more 
 liko the country than his own home, that Mars 
 wanted to shout and swing his hat. 
 
 They turned into a lane. Ah, how green the 
 grass was in places where it was newly-mown 
 for feeding the horses ! And how long and 
 loving the elm-boughs were over the well ! and 
 then with consternation what a great girl 
 Fanny had got to be ! for she had caught 
 sight of the arrival, and stood smiling in a side 
 door-way. 
 
 She was tall and rosy, and, when she stood 
 still, had a certain expectant poise, like a bird 
 about to take flight. Rest with her, was merely 
 the eagerness of waiting for a new purpose, and 
 motion was her element. 
 
 All the preaching on tha text of manners that 
 had been leveled at her since she could remem- 
 ber, had fallen off like water from a duck, and 
 her feathers were not even wet. Manners, with 
 her, were mere after-thoughts, coming in with 
 stately severity after all the mischief was clone*
 
 118 Heart's Content. 
 
 And in truth, to say that she thought at all, 
 would be giving more weight to her frolicsome 
 impulses than they deserved. 
 
 She was two years older than Don old 
 enough to begin to have some dignity ; as tall, 
 nearly, as her mother, and delighting to twist 
 her girlish braids up at the back of her head 
 into what she called a " wad." A great, live, 
 black twist it was, and she enjoyed getting a 
 side look in the glass at its abundance laugh- 
 ing as she thought it looked really like a 
 "young lady." 
 
 It had been some time since Fanny had seen 
 any of her cousins. She was very curious about 
 Mars, for, as a general thing, she had a contempt 
 for boys. So she had watched his arrival ; and 
 when she got the first glimpse of him, she 
 laughed gleefully, and said, " Oh, what a very 
 little fellow ! " 
 
 She ran out to meet him, and gave him a 
 hearty kiss. " Why, Mars, you don't grow one 
 bit!" she cried. And then he noticed ho\v she 
 was shooting up in height, like a fair rose, so 
 crimson were her cheeks, and so slim her grace- 
 ful bodv.
 
 The G-od of War at a Disadvantage. 119 
 
 " Why," she cried again, "you're rounder and 
 fctubbier than ever ! you grow broad, instead of 
 long!" 
 
 Somehow, Fanny had the effect of putting a 
 damper on Mars's spirits. He was half afraid of 
 her, for some reason he could not explain. So 
 when he got into the house, after greeting his 
 Aunt Catherine, he sat down very still, and 
 folded his hands and waited for dinner. 
 
 He wanted very much to run to the barn to 
 find Uncle Fred, but could only sit there, feeling 
 bashful and awkward. 
 
 " Oh," he thought to himself, with angry im- 
 patience, " if it wasn't for girls ! " which 
 meant, of course, that everything would be 
 much more delightful but for them. 
 
 But "girls" did not spoil his appetite for 
 bread and butter, and Aunt Catherine's beauti- 
 ful cucumber pickles ; and he was blissfully 
 oblivious of Fanny's frequent bursts of laughter, 
 as he ate and ate, in an absorbed and ravenous 
 fashion, and still had not enough. 
 
 Fanny scarcely ate any dinner for the fun she 
 was anticipating out of this blushing but vora-
 
 120 Heart's Content. 
 
 cious oddity. She thought him so very meek, 
 so quiet for a boy. 
 
 Better acquaintance was destined to change 
 her views materially. But she Lad as keen a 
 relish of these preliminary opinions, as if they 
 were to prove infallible. 
 
 Mars's appetite abated in due time, and then 
 he was ready to make a raid upon the barn. 
 But Aunt Catherine laid down the law very 
 emphatically, that he was not to run about at all 
 that afternoon. He could go to the orchard 
 swing ; but he was already too tired to go either 
 to the barns or the fields, and must be content 
 to play about the house. 
 
 He was glad when it came supper-time, and 
 glad when it came twilight, but gladdest of all 
 at bed-time. The touch of the sweet clean pil- 
 low was sudden oblivion to Lira ; nor did he 
 wake next morning until long after the whole 
 farm household was well on with its day's work, 
 both in the house and field. When he came 
 down-stairs Fanny wore the same half-critical 
 smile at his stubbiness that she had indulged in 
 on his arrival ; but she greeted him with play- 
 mate fervor, nevertheless.
 
 The G-od of War at a Disadvantage. 121 
 
 His breakfast had been kept for him a bowl 
 of milk, and such muffins as only Aunt Kate 
 could make. 
 
 His bashfulness had entirely disappeared 
 With his hat on the back of his head, and with 
 Fanny following at a curious and amazed dis- 
 tance behind him, he was off to the places he 
 well remembered on his only visit there, two 
 years before. 
 
 There was the haymow ; the crooked willow 
 seat by the brook ; the pasture where the young 
 colts were ; and the fields where the men were 
 at work. To increase his freedom he wanted to 
 take off his shoes and stockings and run about 
 in his bare feet ; but one eager trial of that nov- 
 elty proved a painful failure. He was glad to 
 get the stockings and shoes upon his feet again, 
 especially as Fanny laughed gaily at his grim- 
 aces, when the stubble pricked him and the 
 stones bruised him. 
 
 Oh, such a hungry, heated pair of wild creat- 
 ures as they were, when after a long morning's 
 chase they came in to dinner, at the call of the 
 sweet old-fashioried horn. 
 
 At dinner Uncle Fred took occasion to say
 
 122 Heart's Content. 
 
 that he should have to lay down the law a little 
 to Mars, particularly about the horses, as he 
 knew Mars's fondness for being with them, 
 riding and driving. 
 
 Since his last visit, old Ben the nervous, 
 fractious old horse, who was so terribly intoler- 
 ant of boys had grown even more likely to 
 kick or bite at the approach of one, and he 
 wished Mars to leave him entirely to the charge 
 of the men. He might ride or drive Brown Billy 
 at any time ; but he must be sure to keep away 
 from Ben. 
 
 This was the only restriction he placed upon 
 him while he stayed at the farm ; and, boy 
 fashion, Mars straightway felt in his heart that 
 he was being greatly limited, and that he could 
 manage Ben as well as any one ; and he said so 
 in very mild terms. 
 
 " Well, no matter what you think, my boy," 
 said Uncle Fred, " remember that I wish you to 
 keep away from Ben entirely. He is ill-tem- 
 pered with having been teazed by boys, and he 
 is not safe." 
 
 Mars submitted ; and for that day and the 
 next found so much to entertain and keep him
 
 The God of War at a Disadvantage. 123 
 
 busy, that that instant's temptation to deal with 
 Ben which meant of course to master him 
 did not come up again. 
 
 It was delightful to be high and swaying on 
 Brown Billy's back, night and morning, and to 
 drive Fanny in the phaeton along the quiet 
 country roads after wild berries and hazlenuts. 
 But with use, all pleasures grow familiar, and 
 the busy play-lover must find new sources of dis- 
 traction, and the prospect grew more and more 
 imminent that he would get into mischief. 
 
 On the third day, it happened that Uncle Fred 
 had gone to the city, and several of the men 
 were also absent ; and when Mars went, as 
 usual, to ride Brown Billy to the brook to water, 
 Fannie ran out, and declared her intention to 
 ride on behind, with him. 
 
 In the next stall to Billy stood old Ben, de- 
 mure and very thirsty, as it seemed. 
 
 Now, of course, Mars did not like the idea of 
 having a girl on the same horse with him, and it 
 seemed to him there could be no danger or harm, 
 at all if he rode Ben just once, and let Fanny 
 have Brown Billy all to herself. 
 
 He hinted as much ; but Fanny protested :
 
 124 Heart's Content. 
 
 " Papa says you cannot manage him, and you 
 must not do it." 
 
 This was hardly judicious in Fanny, for it 
 roused an obstinacy in Mars to be told he " must 
 not." Moreover, it stung his pride to be told 
 by a girl that there was anything he could not 
 do any horse, or any emergency, that he could 
 not manage. 
 
 So he helped Fanny to climb upon Brown 
 Billy's back, which she dicl, supposing he would 
 follow. 
 
 Then he marched sternly into old Ben's stall, 
 untied him, led him out, got on to his back, and 
 followed Fanny toward the brook. 
 
 Ben plodded with his head down, and without 
 the slightest appearance of resentment at his 
 boy-burden. Mars's spirit rose as he noted his 
 pacific pace and general docility ; and he sat 
 very grandly as Fanny kept looking back over 
 her shoulder, to say : 
 
 " Oh, Mars, I'm very afraid I " 
 
 When they reached the brook, and both horses 
 were drinking long draughts of pure water, 
 Fanny got into a great fit of laughter for fear 
 shy should slip down over Billy's neck ; and she
 
 The God of War at a Disadvantage. 125 
 
 screamed little screams if he splashed his foot, 
 or lifted his nose to dispose of a troublesome fly. 
 
 " Why, sit straight ! " commanded Mars, with 
 an air of great familiarity with such situations ; 
 " you can't fall, if you only sit straight and stop 
 laughing ! " 
 
 Poor Mars ! No sooner had he said that, than 
 Billy, giving a restive grasp at a fly on his fore- 
 leg, happened to touch old Ben's haunch, ever 
 so little, yet quite enough to affront him into 
 brandishing both heels as high as he could. 
 
 There was nothing to be expected of Mars 
 but that, being off his guard, he should go 
 straight over Ben's head into the water. This 
 he did in such sudden fashion that he never real- 
 ized the transit at all. 
 
 But a gulp, a splash, and a wild cry, attested 
 that his fall had not been fatal. 
 
 He floundered, arid tried to lift himself, but he 
 was hurt. His leg, oh, his leg was broken, he 
 called frantically to Fanny. 
 
 Now Ben, having disposed of his boy, had 
 given one triumphant wheel, and galloped home- 
 ward, which had so stimulated Brown Billy that 
 lie was moved to follow ; and Fanny, letting go
 
 126 Heart's Content. 
 
 all hold upon him at once had slid securely to 
 the ground, from which she quickly sprang to 
 go to Mars's rescue. 
 
 She tugged bravely at his coat, and finally got 
 him at such a poise that he could help himself 
 somewhat, when, by their united efforts, she 
 pulling, and he scrambling, he was landed, as 
 dripping and woe-begone a wight as ever took 
 unwilling bath. 
 
 And he was hurt, in truth. One leg pained 
 him so cruelly that his face was drawn, and the 
 tears would come, in spite of himself. 
 
 To see a boy cry touched Fanny's sense of the 
 ludicrous, and she sank down on the sand, hold- 
 ing both sides, and trying to say, between her 
 spasms of merriment : 
 
 " Oh, Mars, you look for all the world like 
 one of those crying rubber dolls, or like a Chinese 
 image ! " 
 
 At this, Mars sobbed in grievous earnest. It 
 was bad enough to be hurt, but infinitely worse 
 to be laughed at, and for no fault of his own. 
 This made Fanny repent of her heartlessness 
 somewhat, and she set to work to see what could
 
 The G-od of War at a Disadvantage. 127 
 
 be done laughing underneath all the same, 
 however. 
 
 She found he could not stand, and she felt 
 that she must run home for help. But hardly 
 was her decision formed, before she saw Pat ap- 
 proaching. Ben's and Billy's riderless return to 
 the stable had alarmed him, and he had come in 
 search of that " botherin' boy." 
 
 He picked Mars up, drenched and suffering, 
 and bore him home ; while Fanny, half tearful, 
 half merry, acted as escort. 
 
 It was not a fracture, but only a slight sprain ; 
 just enough to enforce a lesson in obedience, 
 which Aunt Catharine felt obliged to read him 
 in Uncle Fred's absence. 
 
 The teasing and frivolous Fanny was very 
 sisterly and sweet in her care of Mars. She 
 read to him and played puzzle with him. 
 
 She sat by his chair nearly all the time, in- 
 stead of running at large as she might have done. 
 His leg was bandaged, and laid upon the cushion 
 of the chair in front of him, which position did 
 not hinder his whistling ; and he amused Fanny 
 by making a work-box, which she praised very 
 much.
 
 128 Heart's Content. 
 
 It was nearly two weeks before he could go 
 home comfortably, and further play out-of-doors 
 had been pretty effectually stopped by the acci- 
 dent. He was much chagrined over the whole 
 affair, and grew angry at once, when, now and 
 then, Fanny said : 
 
 " No danger of falling, if you only sit straight, 
 and don't laugh I "
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 THE EXPERIMENT. 
 
 *' Sweet hour of twilight ! in the solitude 
 Of the pine forest and the silent shore 
 Which bounds the silent immemorial wood." 
 
 WHEN Mars got home, after his prolonged 
 visit, he found them all at Heart's Con- 
 tent overjoyed to see him. He was not so 
 brown and hardy as they had hoped he might 
 become, but had rather lost in tan from being so 
 much in the house, and was also more than usu- 
 ally subdued in manner. 
 
 All his trials had been faithfully written to 
 
 Jane, who shed showers of tears over the facts, 
 
 while Don and Nanny laughed convulsively over 
 
 the spelling. Horse was spelled " h-o-a-r-s-e," 
 
 129
 
 130 Hearts Content. 
 
 and sprain " s-p-r-a-n ; " but Jane failed to find 
 anything ridiculous in that, so strongly was her 
 pity moved. 
 
 On the whole, Mars had had a very good time, 
 and was so glad to be once more at home that 
 even Don's approaching excursion did not make 
 him envious. Indeed, he helped the camping 
 plans along with zest, and seemed quite as happy 
 in doing that, as he would have been to form 
 one of the projected party. 
 
 At length the eventful morning dawned, upon 
 which Don was to essay his first real sport, and 
 it found, already awake, a thoroughly happy and 
 excited lad. He felt himself to be with the 
 innocence of youth a very important member 
 of the little band of sportsmen, which was that 
 day to set out for the woods ; hence the need of 
 being up before daj'break. 
 
 Mr. Lawrence had consented to Don's taking 
 his shot gun, which was the greatest and dearest 
 of his possessions, though little used. The plan 
 did not include a season of hunting, but Don 
 said, with a grim mixture of doubt and belief, 
 " in case of a bear, you know." 
 
 Getting his traps together took all the time
 
 The Experiment. 131 
 
 until breakfast, which was much earlier than 
 usual to admit of a prompt start. 
 
 They were to go by rail about a five hours' 
 journey; there they were to meet their camp 
 equipage and supplies, and several others were 
 to join Mr. Lawrence and his son. From there, 
 teamsters had been engaged to transport them 
 through the forests for about six miles to the 
 fishing grounds. They did not expect to arrive 
 in camp until night. 
 
 Mr. Lawrence and Don were rather heavily 
 laden with their personal belongings, for a week 
 in the woods required no little preparation. 
 
 It meant sufficient clothing for any possible 
 emergency rain, heat, or cold ; it meant med- 
 icines, in case of accident or sickness ; and be- 
 sides these things, the thousand and one trifles 
 so necessary to civilized comfort even in unciv- 
 ilized living. 
 
 There was so much commotion in getting 
 away, that nobody thought to cry, except Jane, 
 who was ready to do emotional dut\', at any 
 time, for the entire famil}-. She dropped a few 
 tears in secret over Don's gun-case, but had too 
 much shyness to make any public manifestation.
 
 132 Heart's Content. 
 
 In her characteristic desire to worry about 
 something, she had taken to worrying about 
 wolves. 
 
 What if a pack of wolves should follow the 
 wagons, and destroy the party, one by one ? 
 She had once seen a picture of a lone man in a 
 forest, on a winter moonJight night, perched 
 upon the roof of an old hut, or a heap of logs, 
 playing vigorously on a violin ; while about him, 
 in the snow, were squatted upon their haunches, 
 a score of gaunt, open-mouthed wolves. 
 
 This picture was her nightmare ; and she 
 dwelt upon it so constantly, in view of her 
 father's tenting project, that she felt sure it was 
 all to be repeated with Don, except that Don 
 had no violin. 
 
 She had fretted so over it in spirit that she 
 had quite worked herself into a fever the night 
 before ; and as she lay awake in the dark, and 
 heard her own little heart beat, with great 
 thumps, it sounded in her ears like " wolf I 
 wolf!" 
 
 She kept all these fanciful terrors to herself, 
 but they sufficiently explain the hot drops that
 
 The Experiment. 133 
 
 splashed from her eyes upon the heaped-up non- 
 descript packages at the door, waiting to be 
 loaded into an express wagon for the train. 
 
 When they finally got started, Nanny threw 
 her slipper after them, and Trudge, thinking it 
 the right thing to do, followed suit. Mars was 
 left in charge of the family, which helped to les- 
 sen a dreadfully suffocating feeling in his throat, 
 as he saw them move off. 
 
 The excitement was at last past, and they 
 were gone, and then the day's, monotony set in. 
 It is to those who are left behind that the hours 
 are long and slow of flight. The goer-forth has 
 movement and change, by which the pangs of 
 parting are dulled. 
 
 We will not trace Don's journey, step by step, 
 but will take up the sportsmen, when, towards 
 twilight, the lumbering, jolting wagons contain- 
 ing the camping equipage of the party, halted 
 upon the shore of a lake, set like a mirror in a 
 frame, deep in a forest of pine and hemlock, 
 with a sprinlding of hard-wood trees oaks, 
 maple and beach. A day of weariness was 
 ended, and the goal reached. 
 
 The sun had just hidden himself behind the
 
 134 Hearts Content. 
 
 fringe of forest which marked the western hori- 
 zon. As the wagons stopped, each one fell 
 mechanically to work to get ready for the night. 
 While one cleared a space for the tent, others 
 speedily unloaded the wagons, watered the 
 horses, and aided the teamsters in getting ready 
 as quickly as possible for their return. It was 
 not long before the emptied wagons were faced 
 about, and the jolting and rumbling of their 
 wheels were heard growing fainter and more 
 -distant, as the tardy darkness came softly on. 
 
 As soon as the tent was pitched it gave a 
 homelike look to the scene, which was one of a 
 solitude to half appall Don, wholly inexperienced 
 as he was. 
 
 A " camp " can be made with great jovialty 
 early in the day; but night is a homesick time 
 to boys, when they find themselves in strange 
 and novel surroundings. Nothing so enlivens 
 and cheers however, as a brisk fire ; and it was 
 not long before they had a glorious heap of logs 
 crackling and roaring in front of the tent. 
 
 All were hungry, and a coffee-pot was soon 
 steaming, and the lunch was brought out. It 
 was too late to cook much of a supper. One of
 
 TJie Experiment. 135 
 
 the party chopped some additional fire-wood for 
 the night, and the sound of the axe woke a 
 mysterious and suggestive echo across the dusky 
 water. 
 
 The guide Mr. Lawrence had engaged, as gen- 
 eral factotum, was a man of tall stature and 
 brawny muscle, called " Big Dave." No better 
 hunter, fisher or trapper could be found in all 
 that region, and he was in his element in camp, 
 full of expedients and experience. The adjust- 
 ment of everything fell upon him, and he super- 
 vised even the coffee, which Mr. Lawrence had 
 undertaken to make. 
 
 A hungry party it was that sat round in the 
 glow of the fire to eat the first meal in camp. 
 And hunger is very necessary at such a feast, 
 lest squeamishness preside. Cinders are apt to 
 fall into the kettles ; and the true camp flavor to 
 every delicacy is smoke. 
 
 " Oh, how tired and lame Don was, as, supper 
 finished, he stretched himself upon the robes 
 in the tent, and felt the genial warmth of the 
 fire both soothe and rest him. 
 
 It had grown cool enough to make warmth
 
 136 Heart's Content. 
 
 welcome ; and besides, Don felt a greater se- 
 curity at having so fine a blaze, as he had read 
 that wild animals shun a fire in the woods. Big 
 Dave attended to getting all the odds and ends 
 of camp in proper shape, ready against possible 
 winds or sudden summer showers. 
 
 Then he fastened back the canvass doors of 
 their house, to let the fire-light flood all within ; 
 drew out of his pocket his pipe, and flinging 
 himself upon the ground near by, began smok- 
 ing meditatively. 
 
 The way he lighted his pipe, was to poise a 
 live coal upon it ; and he was a fine specimen of 
 a backwoodsman, as he lay at full length, tanned 
 and huge, and slovenly. 
 
 Just then they heard a great crashing. and 
 crackling in the bushes near the lake, a few rods 
 from camp, and Don sprang up, involuntarily, 
 and said, under his breath, " Bears ! " 
 
 " I s'pose so ! " said Dave, with a wink, and 
 without chowing the slightest concern. Don's 
 eagerness made a laugh in the tent, at which 
 he blusLed fiercely. 
 
 To cover his embarrassment, he said :
 
 The Experiment. 137 
 
 " Tell us a bear-story, won't you, sir? Were 
 there ever any bears near here ? " 
 
 " Yes," drawled Dave, deliberately. " Plenty 
 of them." 
 
 41 Are there any now?" pursued Don, not 
 without some apprehension. 
 
 " Now and then one," answered the taciturn 
 smoker. 
 
 " Oh, please tell us a bear-story," persisted 
 Don, forgetting how tired he was, and stimu- 
 lated by the outer darkness and the inner 
 cosiness. 
 
 "Do you see that 'roll-way,' yonder? "said 
 Dave, pointing with his fingers toward a bit of 
 land that jutted dimly out into the lake, at 
 some distance from camp. A stretch of white, 
 sandy beach, it looked in the hovering shadow, 
 and they could imagine it, rather than see it. 
 
 " The shore at that point is very steep some 
 twenty-five or thirty feet," Dave went on to say. 
 " What has the appearance of a road is, in fact 
 a lumberman's 'roll-way,' or the place where 
 the pine logs, cut from the land above, were 
 carried on sleds in winter, and dumped over 
 the bank on to the ice of the lake. When the
 
 138 Heart's Content. 
 
 ice melted in spring, they were taken across 
 the lake in rafts, to the mills. The plunging 
 of the logs down the steep bank has destroyed 
 the low bushes and grass, which once grew 
 there, leaving but a barren track of sand." 
 
 He stopped to knock the ashes from his pipe. 
 
 " Well, I had a strange bear-hunt there a few 
 years ago. Two gentlemen were up from the 
 city, and were anxious to get a crack at a deer. 
 They hired me for a guide. The season is 
 rather early here, and I was anxious to reach 
 the stamping ground before the deer left for the 
 river, south ; as it would save a long tramp, and 
 a good many nights in the woods. 
 
 " Well, we made camp just at sundown, the 
 first day out, at the foot of a big pine at the top 
 of that ' roll-way,' yonder. It wasn't much to 
 make camp, for we had just our blankets and 
 camp kettles. We ' marched light,' as we used 
 to say in the army. 
 
 " I went down the ' roll- way ' to get some 
 pitch pine from a stump that stood near the 
 water's edge, while the two men sat at the top. 
 on a log, to smoke.
 
 TJie Experiment. 13S 
 
 *' I had a light axe in my hand. I never go 
 into the woods without an axe, for they are 
 mighty handy, in more ways than one. It was 
 getting well along towards dusk, and I couldn't 
 see very far, especially as the bushes were 
 thick. Still, looking down at the ground, one 
 could see ten feet, or more, before his nose 
 plain enough to see a stump from a bear, even 
 if the animal kept still. 
 
 " Just before I reached the pine stump, I gave 
 a light spring over a log that had lodged ; and 
 this naturally made considerable noise. I don't 
 usually make much of a racket going through 
 the brush; as one has to keep pretty still when 
 he is after game. 
 
 " The minute I struck on my feet, the bushes 
 ahead of me stirred, as if there was something 
 there. 
 
 "I thought it might be a hedge-hog, and 
 so I heaved a bit of wood over among the 
 brush. In less than a wink, a bear rose right 
 up on his hind legs and faced me ! He was not 
 ten feet away. 
 
 "Talk about bears fighting; but my expert
 
 140 Heart's Content. 
 
 ence is, there isn't an animal in the world, more 
 anxious to get away from a man than a bear is, 
 when you take him by surprise ; unless you 
 happen to wound him first. Then he is all 
 
 "I saw at a glance that this bear didn't intend 
 to stay, unless I urged him to. So I started 
 for him, just as he made a lunge up the * roll- 
 way.' The ' roll-way,' is loose, white sand, and 
 the hardest kind of a hill to climb, for bear or 
 man ; for it is almost as straight up and down 
 as the inside of that iron kettle. 
 
 " The bear started up the hill, as I said, and 
 I made a flying leap after him ; swinging my 
 axe with all my might, intending to hit him 
 somewhere, and hoping to stop him, until the 
 men at the camp could get some hint that he 
 was coming. I felt the axe strike him, and I 
 hung -on to the helve with both hands, and 
 called for help. 
 
 " I never was on the desert, but I've heard 
 tell of the sand storms they have there. Well, 
 I guess we made the sand fly, about as bad as 
 ever it blew on the desert. The bear tried to
 
 The Experiment. 141 
 
 get on to his hind legs to grapple with me ; but 
 the axe had caught just one side of his back 
 bone a little forward of the hips and the 
 more he plunged, the tighter it seemed to bury 
 itself. It grew exciting. 
 
 " Whenever he turned, I turned with him, 
 and when he stood up in the slippery sand, I 
 dragged him through it as easy as I would have 
 drawn a cat. Then he began to try to climb 
 the hill, which was better than if he had gone 
 towards the lake. I hung on to my axe. 
 
 " The men at the top of the hill had heard 
 the noise, and were out with their guns; but 
 they did not dare to shoot, for fear of killing 
 me. It was a dreadful struggle ; and jnst as I 
 felt I must let go, the bear gave a terrible lurch 
 forward, and actually dragged me up the bank I 
 
 " Right at the top of the ' roll-way ' was a log 
 that had been stuck there for some purpose by 
 lumbermen. I had presence of mind enough 
 to see that the bear would have to climb over 
 that log. 
 
 " I shouted to the men to get their axes, and 
 to wait ; and they were quick to see the chance
 
 142 Heart's Content. 
 
 to help me. They posted themselves at the 
 upper side of the log, and waited till old Bruin 
 raised himself with his fore-legs on it. Then 
 with blows they quickly stunned him. They 
 struck hard and sharp with the backs of their 
 axes, and before long we had the advantage, and 
 he slid like a great lump down the * roll-way,' 
 where we followed to be sure he was dead." 
 
 Don had listened with open-mouthed interest 
 to the story, and only realized that it was done, 
 when Dave gave a quiet langh, and said " rather 
 a queer way to hunt a bear, eh ? " Then he 
 knocked the ashes from his pipe on the sole of 
 his boot. 
 
 Don drew a long breath, and Mr. Lawrence 
 suggested that it was bed-time for those who 
 expected to take an early stroll in the morning. 
 
 Hemlock boughs had been strewn on the floor 
 of the tent, and over these they spread robes 
 and blankets. Then, after the fire had been 
 secured, they turned in for the night. 
 
 It was a long time, however, before Don 
 could sleep. He heard strange solitary sounds 
 in the forest outside the lonesome hooting of
 
 The Experiment. 143 
 
 owls, and the wind through the high pines ; and 
 though very tired, his eyes were wide open long 
 after the rest slept. 
 
 But at length when, he never knew, it was 
 with such imperceptible step sleep came.
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 DON'S LUCK. 
 
 " Oh, the gallant fisher's life, 
 
 It is the best of any ! 
 'Tis full of pleasure, void of strife , 
 And 'tis beloved of many. 
 In a brook, 
 With a hook 
 Fish we take ; 
 There we sit 
 For a bit 
 Till we fish entangle 
 
 Sit we still 
 Watch our quill, 
 Fishers must not wrangle," 
 
 DON was the first one of the camping party 
 to awake next morning. 
 
 He had had far less sleep than usual, but he 
 was alert and ready. When he quietly crawled 
 out from beneath the blankets, and cautiously 
 M4
 
 Don's Luck, 145 
 
 raised the " door " of the tent, the clearness of 
 the day surprised him. The sun was not yet 
 up, but a light, soft and subdued, filled the sky. 
 The woods in which they camped were, like 
 pine forests generally, almost barren of birds, 
 and over Don's head a stillness, solemn, and 
 almost oppressive, reigned. 
 
 A partridge, startled by the sudden appear- 
 ance of a human being, whirred suddenly away 
 from Don's feet, when he had got only a few 
 steps from the tent. Another, and then another^ 
 alarmed at the flight of the first, rose as if by 
 magic, and skimmed away, with a rapid throb- 
 bing of wings, until fully a dozen had risen. 
 
 Oh, for his gun ! Don thought. But the gun 
 was still in its case, and stowed away he did not 
 know where. 
 
 He strolled down to the water in the morning 
 twilight. He had never seen anything so still, 
 so lonely. The lake was like a sheet of silver, 
 just tinted with rose color where the coming sun 
 flushed the sky, and the water gave back a re- 
 flection. It seemed to Don he had been away 
 from home weeks. 
 
 Presently he heard sounds up at the camp,
 
 146 Heart's Content. 
 
 and looking back, he saw stalwart Dave lighting 
 the fire for breakfast, and stirring up things gen- 
 erally. He had seemed a great hero in Don's 
 eyes the night before, notwithstanding his buck- 
 wood's dialect, and his uncouth dress and bear- 
 ing. But now he looked very huge and blowsy , 
 and hardly heroic enough to win a rather fas- 
 tidious boy's homage. 
 
 The whole camp was astir. There were six 
 in the party, including Don and Dave three 
 gentlemen besides Mr. Lawrence. All gave aid 
 about the breakfast, for they were anxious to 
 get at their sport, and it was not long before a 
 loud halloo called Don to join them. 
 
 Almost as hungry as he had been the night 
 before, he found everything very palatable. 
 There was something of a smoky taste, it is true, 
 but he did not mind. He listened with eager- 
 ness to the day's plans. 
 
 Their camp equipments consisted of two boats 
 and all their appliances, besides the food and 
 shelter. 
 
 These boats had been built after one of Mr. 
 Lawrence's own models, and were very service- 
 able and complete. It was his custom to leave
 
 Don's Luck. 147 
 
 them each season at the last railway station they 
 had left, with all the other bulky equipments. 
 Now their first work was to get them into the 
 water. 
 
 Mr. Lawrence, Don, and Dave were to go in 
 one boat ; the three gentlemen in the other. It 
 was a gay moment when the signal was given, 
 and both parties pushed off. 
 
 The season was too far advanced for good 
 " still fishing," that is, fishing with the boat an- 
 chored off a bluff shore ; but " trolling " was 
 just in order. It was so arranged that the party 
 in the first boat were to change about, each 
 taking his turn at the oars, and each at the 
 trolling line. 
 
 But in Mr. Lawrence's boat Dave was to row, 
 leaving Don and his father free to " fish " all the 
 time. 
 
 Mr. Lawrence stationed Don in the stern of 
 the boat, and took a seat in the bow himself. 
 This was the post of honor for Don, and he felt 
 nerved to great prowess as he let the spoon- 
 hook over the side of the boat into the water, 
 and saw it skip and skim as Dave pulled pow- 
 erfully at the oars.
 
 148 Heart's Content. 
 
 From among a large number of trolling hooks, 
 Mr. Lawrence selected a small bright bait, 
 especially adapted to allure bass. Fastening 
 this securely to his line, he cast it from him 
 with a sweep of the sensitive rod, and let the 
 reel play, as the boat moved through the water, 
 until nearly two hundred feet of the line had run 
 out. 
 
 Holding his rod firmly at right angles with the 
 boat, his line trailed astern several feet from the 
 heavier line which Don held. Don had already 
 let out more than fifty yards of line, and was 
 attentively holding his arm ready to answer in- 
 stantly any summons from the flashing hook. 
 The constant flutter of the spoon communicated 
 a throbbing sensation to his hand that aroused 
 his nerves to keenest tension. 
 
 He lost nothing of the scene before him. The 
 water was pleasantly rippled ; the dancing waves 
 kept ever coming toward him, lapping each 
 other, but made no onward progress. Don 
 almost fell into a reverie the very last thing a 
 fisherman should do. 
 
 The receding shore, the " roll-way " made mem- 
 orable by the story of the bear hunt the night
 
 Don's Luck. 149 
 
 before, but now robbed of half its interest by 
 the bright sunlight falling on it ; the glistening 
 tent, which grew whiter as they moved from it ; 
 the curling smoke and vapory steam from the 
 saw-mill hidden behind a projecting point of 
 land ; the constantly changing stretch of shore 
 as the boat moved, presenting an ever-varying 
 line of vision ; the novelty of the situation, arid 
 the yet vague realization that this was really the 
 long-talked of excursion, all combined to make 
 him forget himself, and forget why he sat there 
 holding that line. 
 
 In the midst of the silence, an electric thrill 
 flashed through his whole system. He had had 
 a " strike." It was like being suddenly waked 
 from a sound sleep, and he glanced involuntarily 
 at the guide, ashamed that his good fortune 
 should have surprised him instead of finding him 
 ready. Dave had noticed nothing. 
 
 Don braced every nerve for a second spring of 
 the fish, which he felt sure would soon come ; 
 nor had he long to wait. 
 
 A straightening of the dragging line, a sudden 
 wrench at his finger, a steady and strong hauling
 
 150 Heart's Content. 
 
 in, and Don knew that his first " strike " was 
 hooked. 
 
 Dave's eyes were wide enough, now. No need 
 for Don's crying out : 
 
 " I've hooked him ! " 
 
 " Pull steadily, Don, and don't let him get a 
 slack line," quietly cautioned Mr. Lawrence. 
 
 The guide gave the boat just a trifle of extra 
 impetus, with a few well-pulled strokes of the 
 oars, as Don drew in the line, hand over hand, 
 with a regular, swinging motion that both sur- 
 prised and amused the older fishermen. 
 
 It seemed as if the line would never end ; but 
 aching arms must not be considered now. Yard 
 after yard of the wet coil fell within the boat 
 but still no fish appeared in sight. 
 
 At last, far astern, a splashing of the waves, a 
 tugging at the line, and a fine black bass leaped 
 high out of the water, with red mouth wide 
 open, and fins extended to their utmost ! 
 
 Down it suddenly went again, and, darting 
 with lightning rapidity towards the boat, at- 
 tempted to gain a bit of slack. 
 
 Don did not need instructions then. With all 
 his boyish might he pulled at th3 falling line,
 
 Don's Luck. 151 
 
 until he felt the captive drawn through the 
 water again. Now the fish was near the boat ! 
 It darted under the stern, and drew the line 
 with a swish through Don's dripping hands. 
 Now here, now away, this side, that side, in fran- 
 tic efforts to escape ! 
 
 But Don steadily drew the line upward, until, 
 at length, he lifted his struggling game with a 
 dexterous movement over the gunwale of the 
 boat, and threw it gasping at the guide's feet. 
 
 " Well done, Don ! " cried Mr. Lawrence ; and 
 Dave forced a taciturn smile, and said : 
 
 " That looks as if you knew something about 
 a fish-line, my boy." 
 
 After Don had taken his bass, Mr. Lawrence 
 proposed to row across the lake to a place called 
 " Pickerel Point," so named because of the size 
 and numbers of pickerel taken there. This spot 
 was near the south end of the lake. A basin 
 was formed there by a projecting point, giving 
 almost a uniform depth of some twenty feet of 
 water. Pickerel and muskallonge made this 
 basin their home, finding suitable food and agree- 
 able retreats in the vegetable formation at the 
 bottom of the lake.
 
 152 Heart's Content. 
 
 No sooner had the boat been rounded to, off 
 the point, describing a wide circle, and allowing 
 Don's heavy line to sink well towards the weeds, 
 than he felt such a powerful pull at his hook as 
 to bring him instantly to his feet. His first 
 thought was that his line had become entangled 
 with some sunken log or bush; but a steady 
 pressure, followed by a half dozen jerks at the 
 hook convinced him of his mistake. 
 
 He had - out only about an hundred feet of 
 line ; but as they were about making the curve, 
 it described a half circle, instead of being 
 directly astern. It gave a taut, swisling sound, 
 as it was straightened by some force at the other 
 end, into a direct line. An unusual strength 
 resisted the hauling in ; there was a downward 
 motion at the far end of the tense cord. These 
 were like revelations to Don. He had his first 
 large fish ! 
 
 " You've got a muskallonge ! " cried the guide, 
 giving a steady pull at the oars. It was the 
 first time Don has seen him rouse from that 
 watchful phlegm into anything like excitement. 
 
 " Keep up your line," he added, " but don't be 
 in a hurry about getting him in."
 
 Don's Luck. 153 
 
 Mr. Lawrence rapidly reeled in his own line, 
 to prevent its becoming entangled with Don's ; 
 and stood ready, with gaff hook in hand, to aid 
 in the final capture. 
 
 By this time there was no doubt as to the 
 kind and size of the fish. Old fishermen know 
 that the muskallonge " works " exactly contrary 
 to the black bass. While the latter rushes for- 
 ward the instant it realizes its own danger, and 
 flings itself clear of the water, shaking itself 
 violently, with extended fins and open mouth, 
 the muskallonge, when it is first hooked, dives 
 sullenly towards the bottom, and merely offers 
 the resistance of its own weight. As it is 
 dragged forward, it seems to stand head down- 
 ward, waving its long body to and fro. But the 
 instant the boat comes within its sight, it shows 
 the fiercest eagerness to escape. It has none of 
 the gamy qualities of the bass, but a " big " fish 
 makes up in strength all other deficiencies. 
 The struggle lasts several minutes, or until the 
 poor creature becomes aware of its captivity. 
 Then it rises to the surface of the water, at the 
 side of the boat, if the line has been prop-
 
 154 Heart's Content. 
 
 erly handled, and the final capture is easily 
 accomplished. 
 
 If the sportsman is but an amateur, however, 
 the fish is very likely to escape at the last 
 moment. This may be either when the gaff is 
 brought into play, or when the troller makes an 
 effort to get his game over the side of the boat 
 unaided. Much depends upon the position, 
 which should be either parallel with the boat, or 
 with head towards it. Many sportsmen prefer 
 not to use the gaff, but to manage the capture 
 without it. 
 
 Don was of this opinion; and moreover did 
 not wish the interference of any third party. 
 He was as cool as a veteran. He waited until 
 his prize was close at hand ; then slowly reach- 
 ing over the boat's edge, he grasped the line 
 near the trolling-hook, and, a second later, a fif- 
 teen pound muskallonge was floundering in the 
 bottom of the boat. His boyish strength had 
 been taxed to the uttermost to get it in. Dave 
 despatched it in scientific fashion, which fairly 
 made Don shudder. 
 
 He only said, turning to his father :
 
 Don's Luck. 155 
 
 "Little Jane would cry herself sick to see 
 that." 
 
 Don was very much elated, but wore a great 
 show of indifference. He let out his line again, 
 with all the sangfroid of success, as if it were a 
 very easy thing to take in such a fish as that. 
 In fact, there was something like swagger in 
 his manner, and he was neither so attentive 
 nor precise as he had been before. 
 
 Hardly had ten yards of his line been let 
 out, before he felt another "strike." He was 
 not expecting it, and to all appearances it was 
 as large as the other. He lost presence of 
 mind ; and, wildly pulling in his line, dragged 
 his prey to the boat in the most unscientific 
 fashion. Before Mr. Lawrence could give a 
 word of protest or advice, he had swung the 
 untired fish clear of the water and over the gun- 
 wale, by main strength ; in doing this, he failed 
 to keep it clear of the side of the boat. 
 
 With a contortion of the body that is peculiar 
 to this fish, it threw itself clear off the hook, 
 and fell fortunately for him, not back into 
 the water, but directly across the seat in front
 
 156 Heart's Content. 
 
 of him ; with its head dropped down almost to 
 the water's edge, and snapping its jaws in most 
 savage style. 
 
 It was a dreadful moment to Don. He saw 
 that the fish was loose ; and, without a moment's 
 hesitation, he threw himself upon it, clasped his 
 arms tightly about it, and gasped, " Dave ! " 
 
 Mr. Lawrence could offer no help from laugh- 
 ing; but Dave came to the rescue. He des- 
 patched the formidable creature with the gaff- 
 hook ; and Don was at liberty to scan his most 
 unscientific capture. 
 
 " That's equal to my bear hunt, Don," said 
 Dave, surveying the huge fish, with no little 
 pride. 
 
 " Don," said Mr. Lawrence, " you made up 
 for your lack of skill with what, if it had been 
 Mars in your place, you would have called * red- 
 headed grit.' I can't say I admire your style 
 of doing work, considering the condition of 
 3-0 ur jacket, but the result is pretty fair " 
 looking with the greatest satisfaction at Don's 
 really very remarkable prowess, lying at their 
 feet.
 
 Don's Luck. 157 
 
 Don was covered with slime and wet, and was 
 all out of breath. 
 
 " I lost my balance, ja little," he said ashamed, 
 and yet proud at the same time. 
 
 It must not be inferred because we have 
 spoken particularly of Don's successes, that he 
 was the only fortunate member of the party. 
 The record for the day's sport, was a very fine 
 one, at all hands. Nor shall we chronicle each 
 capture; for, though to the fisherman himself, 
 each effort, and each success or disappointment 
 has its own special features of interest, yet it 
 might not prove as absorbing to the mere reader. 
 
 The day ended round another camp-fire, with 
 more stories, and with an early turning in.
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 ANOTHEB PHASE. 
 
 ' Suddenly all the sky is hid 
 As with the shutting of a lid, 
 One by one, great drops are falling, 
 Doubtful and slow," 
 
 THE next morning was a sultry one, with a 
 blazing sun, and without a breeze. The 
 previous day's exertions had tired Don to the 
 minutest fibre of his body. The bed of hem- 
 lock boughs either had been poorly made, or 
 was, in reality, little softer than the ground ; or 
 else it was weariness that made every bone in 
 his whole body to ache, for he turned and 
 tossed nearly the whole night through. Mus- 
 quitoes hummed in his ears; his hands were 
 swollen and smarting from his reckless and 
 I5 8
 
 Another Phase. 159 
 
 unused handling of his line, and from various 
 braises and cuts ; and, oh his back, his aching 
 back ! 
 
 Towards morning, he grew more quiet, and 
 drifted off into a deep slumber, out of whose 
 depths he fished imaginarj 7 ' bass and inuskal- 
 longe of great size and in great numbers. This 
 sleep, however, brought him little rest, and was 
 very brief; for day-break shone early through 
 the white walls of the tent. 
 
 It seemed to grow morning even before it was 
 midnight ; and when the camp was really roused, 
 and getting up was a foregone conclusion, Don 
 would have given up all further fishing and 
 camping forever, if it had been possible, for one 
 good hour's sleep in his own bed at home. 
 
 " Lie still a little longer, Don," Mr. Lawrence 
 said, as having dressed himself, he went out. 
 " Breakfast isn't ready yet, and when we want 
 you, we will call you." 
 
 He drew the door of the tent together after 
 him, and as all the rest were out, Don folded the 
 outspread robes together in a great soft pile, one 
 upon another, so that they should wholly deaden 
 the boughs underneath, and, lying down upon
 
 160 Heart's Content. 
 
 them, dropped asleep in a most deliciously rest- 
 ful fashion. He was sole proprietor of all the 
 room and of all the comfort. 
 
 The light 110 longer dazzled and troubled him 
 he did not see it ; musquitoes no longer sung 
 whining tunes in his ears or at least, he did 
 not hear them ; the fragrant coffee boiling upon 
 a crotched stick over the fire outside, did not 
 tempt him ; the sputtering and browning of his 
 own fine bass in a pan of butter over the coals, 
 did not stimulate him to hunger. He knew 
 nothing of it all. Only to sleep oh, how 
 sweet, how restful it was ! 
 
 When he woke he was wholly bewildered and 
 lost. Only his eyes seemed to wake ; for he lay 
 perfectly still in that comfortable indolence 
 which is the border-land between dreaming and 
 reality. 
 
 It seemed to him that it was high noon 
 broad, dazzling, hot, still. He was drenched 
 with perspiration, and his face was flushed. But 
 he felt rested. 
 
 He listened, but did not hear a sound, except 
 a low stir or murmur in the pines outside. He 
 did not start up with enthusiasm, as he had done
 
 Another Phase. 161 
 
 the morning before ; but be lay, idly wondering 
 where the rest were, and what time it could be. 
 
 After much preliminary stretching, he finally 
 went out. Nobody was to be seen. All was as 
 hushed as if no mortal had ever stood upon that 
 shore, but himself. 
 
 He begun to be disturbed. He wondered 
 why his father had not called him to breakfast ; 
 and he did not altogether like being left there 
 alone. 
 
 Just then he spied upon a stump near the tent 
 a little upright stick, split at one end, while the 
 other was crowded into a crevice of the decayed 
 wood, so as to hold it in place. In the split end 
 was a folded bit of paper. 
 
 Don laughed. " A funny post-office," he said 
 to himself, as he took it out. On it was writ- 
 ten : " We shall be fishing just round the cape, 
 and in sight of the point where wo go for water. 
 Have a fire going for us when we come in at 
 noon." 
 
 Mr. Lawrence had not had the heart to wake 
 Don, when breakfast was ready ; he knew that 
 he would sleep late, if undisturbed, and he 
 needed the sleep. He argued rightly that if lie
 
 162 Heart's Content. 
 
 indicated in his note that Don was left in charge 
 of the camp, he would feel placed upon his man- 
 liness and courage, and would not be afraid. 
 He had felt inclined to add, " don't have any 
 fear," but he wanted to cultivate Don's self-reli- 
 ance, and, moreover, did not wish to imply that 
 there was any reason why he should feel timid. 
 But to tell him from what point he could see the 
 fishing party would answer every purpose of 
 reassurance. 
 
 He was right. Even in sight of the " roll- 
 way," where there had been killed a veritable 
 bear, Don felt as brave as an Indian. He was 
 put upon his mettle, and he could not flinch. 
 
 He was still very sore and lame, and felt as if 
 a bath would be the most comforting of healers. 
 He went down to the lake, where he splashed 
 about like a duck ; and when his bath was com- 
 pleted, arranged his hair, in the romantic fashion 
 of the red maiden, over the fern-framed mirror 
 of a little brook, that crept away from the cool 
 spring where they drew their water for drinking, 
 and gurgled noisily along until it emptied into 
 the lake." 
 
 Coming back to the tent, he found where
 
 Another Phase. 163 
 
 Dave had left, under a pan, a nice plate of break- 
 fast for him. This he ate without leaving a 
 crumb. The fried fish was excellent; the 
 crisped potatoes seasoned capitally; the bread 
 and butter very good all considerably mussy 
 to be sure, and he could not find a napkin 
 and everything as nice, he thought, as he had 
 ever tasted. 
 
 This done, he put the tent in order, placed a 
 few sticks on the smouldering fire so that it need 
 not go entirely out, and then set about amusing 
 himself. 
 
 It was very much like Robinson Crusoe alone 
 on the island. This was decidedly more heroic 
 than anything that had happened. How brave 
 he felt, and how rested, and how good it was to 
 be rested ! 
 
 Don had been more utterly exhausted than he 
 could understand, with the stirring incidents and 
 excitements of the previous day ; and that last 
 morning " wink " as he called it had made 
 him feel like a boy again, and not like an old 
 man, as he had felt the night before. 
 
 He got his gun he had not thought of it
 
 164 Heart's Content. 
 
 before. He thought he would stroll through 
 the woods a little way, to see if he could find a 
 squirrel or some partridges. 
 
 It was intensely hot. The woods were breath- 
 less and silent, except a certain movement and 
 moan that seems to flow through pine trees, even 
 when there is no wind. It was like a distant 
 surf an echo of sound, rather than a sound 
 itself. 
 
 But before he went into the woods, Don 
 thought he would go to the rocky point of which 
 his father's note had spoken, and see if he could 
 see the boats. The glare of the water was like 
 burnished metal, and he was glad to keep as 
 much as possible in the shadows of the trees. 
 
 Reaching the point, he could see the two boats, 
 looking as if hung in mid-air. They were a long 
 way off, and nothing could be distinguished in 
 them. The men were evidently still-fishing, and 
 not trolling, as they kept their respective places, 
 without motion. 
 
 Don shaded his eyes, and watched for some 
 sign of life in them. 
 
 Then ha sat down, for he found a cool spot,
 
 Another Phase. 166 
 
 and thought he might better stay there awhile 
 than to go in a smothering chase through the 
 breathless woods after game. He was not afraid 
 he felt sure of that but somehow even that 
 distant companionship seemed pleasanter to him 
 than to be alone. 
 
 The water dazzled him, and made his eyes 
 blink. But presently he saw the oars of one of 
 the boats glisten, as they were lifted and dipped ; 
 then the other oars flashed in the sun like blades 
 of silver, and Don decided that they were pre- 
 paring to come ashore. 
 
 He was right. They were having no luck, 
 and it was so intensely warm that they had de- 
 termined to leave fishing until toward evening, 
 or to abandon it altogether for the day. 
 
 What a pretty picture they made ! The regu- 
 lar dip, dip, of the shining paddles, and the 
 magic, airy movement of the boat toward land. 
 It was prettier to watch, than to share, evidently, 
 for when they came within hail Don saw that 
 the men were flushed, and that their foreheada 
 were dripping like rain. 
 
 He gave them a brave hallo, and ran around
 
 166 Heart's Content. 
 
 nimbly to the landing-place. He was very glad 
 to see them. He had never been so entirely 
 alone for an hour in all his life before. 
 
 " No luck this morning, Don," shouted Mr. 
 Lawrence, glad to see by Don's manner that his 
 fatigue had not made him sick. 
 
 Then as he stepped ashore, he added : 
 
 " You are in luck, Don, to have had a nap, 
 for this has been a dull morning's work the 
 dullest I ever knew. Have you found any 
 shooting ? " 
 
 Don was forced to confess that he had not 
 tried to find any. 
 
 The gentlemen were so utterly fagged and ex- 
 hausted that they were about to leave the boats, 
 each with but a nose in the sand, when Dave 
 called out : 
 
 " Give us a lift here, and we'll draw these 
 boats up." He had a quiet air of authority. 
 
 "Oh, nonsense, Dave ! " said one of the gentle- 
 men, " there isn't a breath of wind." And Mr. 
 Lawrence, who felt himself experienced, supple- 
 mented it with, "they're all right, Dave, we 
 shall go out in an hour or two again."
 
 Another Phase. 167 
 
 " All the same," replied Dave, " I guess we'll 
 draw them up." 
 
 " Dave knows," decided Mr. Lawrence ; " and 
 it is possible we may have a storm," glancing at 
 the horizon where a dense bank lay, which none 
 of the party had perceived before. 
 
 Accordingly the boats were drawn high and 
 dry, and then they wearily climbed the little 
 declivity to the tent. All were prostrated with 
 the heat, except the hardy woodsman, Dave, 
 who seemed made of oak. He set about to pre- 
 pare for dinner. 
 
 It was only eleven o'clock, but they had gone 
 out early, and people in the woods are always 
 supposed to be ready for a cup of coffee and a 
 lunch. Dave arranged the primitive table 
 which was but a cloth spread over the dry pine 
 needles and the others lounged in the shade. 
 
 Not one of the gentlemen of the party but 
 would have felt himself deeply injured by fate, 
 had he been obliged by circumstances to work 
 half so hard as he had voluntarily done that 
 morning. 
 
 That is the difference between spontaneous 
 and compulsory tasks in one case, however
 
 168 Heart's Content. 
 
 severe, they are easy ; and in the other, however 
 light, they are burdensome. 
 
 By the time dinner had been prepared and 
 eaten the sky had changed its aspect. Evidently 
 the sultriness was to culminate in a tempest. 
 The clouds were ominous, the thunder incessant, 
 and there was the hush of suspense upon every- 
 thing. 
 
 All were out upon the little bluff watching 
 the grand panorama of storm, except Dave, who 
 bustled about, with a seemingly unnecessary 
 zeal, getting everything under shelter, and even 
 going down again to the beach to be sure that 
 the boats were properly secured. Then he took 
 his axe, and began felling a dead tree of consid- 
 erable size, which stood some distance from the 
 tent. 
 
 Of course Don asked what that was for. 
 
 " It is in range of the tent, you see," said his 
 father, " and if there should be a high wind it 
 might blow over." 
 
 This seemed to Don like danger. He began 
 to be uneasy ; but, as his father kept perfectly 
 cool, he was careful not to betray any alarm. 
 Dave worked like a Trojan. He swung the axe
 
 Another Phase. 169 
 
 as if it had been a toy ; and soon the old white 
 tree fell away from the tent with a crash. 
 
 Hardly was this completed, when in looking 
 across the lake, they saw at the farther shore, a 
 white commotion. The clouds were streaming 
 up in grey masses, as if torn by the wind, and 
 the storm was nearly upon them. 
 
 On and on came the great wall of white caps, 
 tumbling and roaring, and standing out distinct 
 against the black water like an advancing wall 
 of broken ice. 
 
 Don watched it with awe. 
 
 " We'd better get into the tent," said Dave, 
 laconically. 
 
 Don preferred to stay outside, for he was fas-> 
 cinated with the approaching tumult ; but as he 
 lingered, his father said, " Don," and he mechan- 
 ically entered with the rest under that frail 
 shelter. 
 
 Dave instantly secured the door, and gave 
 brief orders to each man where and how to hold 
 on to the tent. Don was stationed to help keep 
 down the lapping door, for that opened in the 
 direction of the storm.
 
 170 Heart's Content. 
 
 The wind struck them;, and, for an instant 
 they seemed nearly lifted into the air. Their 
 house their only shelter was merely an 
 anchored umbrella, which, if the wind got under 
 it, must surely be carried awaj r . 
 
 The first gust was the worst, for that was the 
 shock ; but the tent was not wrecked, and they 
 took courage. They all held to their places 
 with speechless persistence, and .the walls about 
 them, and the roof above them, fluttered like 
 a flag. 
 
 Then the rain came a flood, a torrent but 
 the wind did not abate. 
 
 " This rain will relieve us," shouted Mr. Law- 
 rence, " for the ground will be soaked, and the 
 pegs will hold tighter." 
 
 "No, they won't," said Dave, "for they are 
 driven in sand, and this will only loosen them." 
 
 Hail came, and pattered on the frail balloon. 
 They could scarcely hear themselves speak, for 
 the roaring outside. Don was pale as a ghost, 
 and Mr. Lawrence seeing it, said : 
 
 " I think the worst is over, Don," at which 
 Don recovered his courage and color.
 
 Another Phase. Ill 
 
 At length there was subsidence ; then com- 
 parative quiet ; then a noticeable lessening ; 
 then calm. They ventured to let go their clutch 
 upon the tent ; and after a little, they opened a 
 crack of the door and peeped out. The lake 
 was in a wild uproar ; but the rain had settled 
 into a steady soft shower. 
 
 Then the disagreeable part begun ; for hith- 
 erto there had been danger enough to give a fine 
 zest to discomfort. Don found a livulet trick- 
 ling under his feet, which had already wet some 
 of the blankets ; the fire was out, and where it 
 had been was a grey pool of ashes; everything 
 outside was dripping ; Don had left his gun 
 somewhere, he could not remember where ; and 
 all the while the rain kept falling, falling. 
 
 They were all obliged to stay under the one 
 shelter, as Dave's " one man tent " had been 
 blown over; and this made them considerably 
 crowded. It could not be more than three 
 o'clock; but everything looked like a settled 
 rain, and it was evident there could be no more 
 fishing that day. 
 
 Don began to feel it to be a dreadful waste
 
 172 Heart's Content. 
 
 of time. He was likely to lose thus, one entire 
 day, half in sleep, and half by storm. 
 
 In no place does pleasure so depend upon the 
 weather as in camp, and in no place will native 
 patience and good cheer be so quickly apparent. 
 
 Don was inclined to growl. " I don't see why 
 it should rain just now, of all other times," he 
 said, "it might have waited until next week." 
 
 " A good woodsman, Don, never loses tem- 
 per," said Mr. Lawrence. " It is the best part 
 of his philosophy to take things as they come. 
 
 Don felt the rebuke ; but was inclined to 
 defend himself. He gave this mild retort : 
 
 " Yes ; for gentlemen can smoke, but there is 
 nothing for a boy to do." 
 
 " Reflect ! " responded Mr. Lawrence, smiling. 
 
 That, though was just the trouble. Don's 
 uneasiness grew out of reflecting upon how 
 short the term of camping must be, and of how 
 long the rain was likely to last. 
 
 Gradually story-telling began; for the rain 
 increased rather than lessened. And in that 
 way night came on. Their supper was a cold, 
 moist lunch; for they had nothing dry with
 
 Another Phase. 173 
 
 which to kindle a fire. They made as merry of 
 it as they could, and went early to bed. Don 
 could not help a final grumble: 
 
 " It will be so mean if it rains to-morrow, arid 
 I'm sure it will." 
 
 He soon forgot all vexations in an excellent 
 and uninterrupted sleep, and woke in the morn- 
 ing, to find the day fair and cool. 
 
 This fourth day in Don's week, was full of 
 incident; but nothing very new. He felt more 
 hardihood, and less excitement, as he grew hab- 
 ituated. Verily, this free life grew upon him in 
 charm and enjoyment. 
 
 Wonders were plentiful. For instance, he 
 found at one time a field of white water-lilies 
 in a little land-locked bay, which were so unlike 
 any he had ever seen, that he seriously ques- 
 tioned if he could not perserve some to take 
 home to his mother. 
 
 They were tinted with a faint pink, and were 
 fragrant. 
 
 It is needless to detail the entire week. Suf- 
 fice it to say, that Don grew used to his hard 
 bed, and to the monotonous fare ; and became
 
 174 Heart's Content. 
 
 steady as a veteran in his use of hook and line. 
 He no longer wondered at his father's enthu- 
 siasm for fishing and camping, as he had often 
 done before trying it ; but he begrudged the 
 flight of every moment that bore them nearer to 
 the time for returning to civilization.
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 MAKS'S WAY OF DOING BUSINESS. 
 
 " We scatter seeds with careless hand, 
 And dream we ne'er shall see them more. 
 But for a thousand years 
 Their fruit appears." 
 
 WITH Don away, Mars found time heavy 
 upon his hands. He grew restless, and 
 longed for something out of the regular routine. 
 And every member of the family at Heart's 
 Content wished with equal heartiness, that 
 something could be devised to stop his fret- 
 ting. 
 
 Something to do oh, for something to do I 
 was his persistent cry. 
 175
 
 176 Heart's Content. 
 
 Two days of this idleness, and a bright idea 
 struck him. He would go into business for 
 himself. Not into the printing business for 
 he was tired of that but into something very 
 closely connected with it. 
 
 Down the street only a short distance was a 
 candy-store, and a news and fruit stand com- 
 bined, kept by a woman who had no little boys 
 of her own. 
 
 Mars was not one of her most frequent cus- 
 tomers, for pennies with him were not as plenti- 
 ful as with some, though whenever he had a 
 supply, this was sure to be his first resort. The 
 woman had taken a strong liking to this dimple- 
 faced little belligerent, who. on all occasions 
 pummeled obnoxious boys with such readiness 
 and severity. She liked his staunch frankness ; 
 and prophesied that some day he would use his 
 energy to a good purpose, when his hot-headi- 
 ness was cooled down by time. 
 
 So when Mars applied to her to be let to de- 
 liver her newspapers for that was his bright 
 idea she arranged with him to do it; that is, 
 he was to fetch the papers from the train at six 
 o'clock every evening. For this, it was agreed
 
 Mars' 's Way of Doing Business. 177 
 
 that he was to have a silver quarter, every Sat- 
 urday night, and a weekly paper; and he was to 
 enter upon duty at once. 
 
 The first two days the novelty of having a 
 regular occupation on hand served to keep the 
 task in raind, so that he by no means f9rgot it, 
 nor was a minute late at the train. 
 
 An4 he felt rich in advance at the mere 
 thought of a quarter of a dollar. 
 
 The third day after he began business, a few 
 of his mates persuaded him to go for blackber- 
 ries out in a field, some distance from town. 
 They started directly after dinner, and were to 
 be gone two hours only three, at most. The 
 berries were reported very thick, and each boy 
 had a basket on his arm. 
 
 It was a fine afternoon, and they strolled 
 along, an amiable little rabble, all talking at 
 once, about nothing, which was everything to 
 them. 
 
 They reached the field, which lay on the slope 
 of a hill, and was an ugly briery place. They 
 were quite unconscious of distance or time. 
 The ground was atony and uncomfortable, and
 
 178 Heart's Content. 
 
 one of the boys proposed to rest before they be 
 gan picking berries, of which, however, they had 
 as yet, found none. 
 
 Mars threw himself down at fnll length in a 
 shady place, and the rest seated themselves, and 
 began to play mumble-the-peg with their jack- 
 knives. 
 
 All at once Mars, happening to glance up, saw 
 something in the sky not a bird, nor a kite, 
 but something larger and stranger than either of 
 these. 
 
 Now, if Mars had not been in the newspaper 
 business, and had not informed himself as 
 to what was going on, he would have been 
 frightened. 
 
 As it was, he gave a wild whoop, and cried : 
 " Balloon 1 balloon ! " 
 
 And sure enough it was a balloon, sailing 
 along in the beautiful summer afternoon, just 
 above the tops of the trees. 
 
 They could see distinctly the three persons in 
 it La Mountain and his niece, and another 
 man," Mars announced. 
 
 The ascension had been made in a neighboring
 
 Afars's Way of Doing Business. 179 
 
 town, some miles away ; and Mars, though he 
 had read of it, had not expected to be a witness 
 of any portion of the wonderful event. But 
 here it was ! 
 
 And now the blackberries were forgotten ; 
 and snatching their baskets in flying haste, they 
 went in chase, shouting at every bound, " bal- 
 loon I balloon ! " 
 
 On it sailed, slowly, as if its strength was 
 almost spent, and so low that the voices of the 
 persons in the basket could be distinctly heard 
 talking and laughing ; and on ran Mars and his 
 friends after it, and further and further away 
 from home. 
 
 Across fields, over fences, " through brake and 
 through brier" they went, stimulated and spurred 
 on by hearing a farmer, who with his family 
 was out watching the air-ship sail over his own 
 house, ask the voyagers to come down and 
 get supper. 
 
 Mars and his eager friends came to the foot 
 of the great hill, and by this time quite a crowd 
 of country boys and field-laborers had joined 
 them. The balloon swept slowly and majesti- 
 cally up to the summit, and the little berry-seek-
 
 180 Heart's Content. 
 
 ers, panting and breathless, toiled eagerly after. 
 Mavs had lost his basket in the too-nimble 
 scaling of a fence, but he left it, hoping to regain 
 it some day. 
 
 On the table-land stretching back from the 
 hill the balloon came down, and " La Mountain 
 and his niece, and another man " alighted, and 
 the crowd gathered round. 
 
 Just at this climax what thought flashed 
 through Mars's mind ? 
 
 His papers ! 
 
 The afternoon was waning, and his habit of 
 being prompt had not as yet been broken, so 
 that even under this excitement he could not 
 forget it. He nudged a farmer standing near 
 him. " Please sir, will you tell me what time 
 it is?" he asked. 
 
 " Ten minutes past five," said the man. Mars 
 knew he must be fully three miles from home. 
 And five o'clock was his supper hour, too ! 
 
 Without an instant's lingering, without having 
 his curiosity in the least satisfied about his bal- 
 loon, and without more than the glancing 
 thought of supper, back he started on a run, 
 heated and tired as he was.
 
 Mars's Way of Doing Business. 181 
 
 On and on the little sturdy feet trudged, run 
 ning when they could, and when the way was 
 rough, walking fast, and clambering and toiling ; 
 but every moment getting nearer and nearer to 
 the city, as the sun sank toward six o'clock. 
 
 Just as the train came rumbling into the 
 station, a little dusty figure ran up the platform, 
 with hat far on the back of his head, russet locks 
 dripping, and cheeks almost purple, and with 
 legs evidently not quite so sound and steady as 
 when he started. It was Mars, and he was in 
 time to get his papers. 
 
 He took the packet and trudged up to the 
 news-stand. 
 
 "How now, Mars ?" said the woman, "you 
 look all tired out.'' 
 
 " I ran," explained Mars. 
 
 "But I wouldn't run in that fashion when it 
 is so hot," she said, kindly. u There is no great 
 hurry for the papers." 
 
 " But I was miles away," panted Mars, " and 
 I hurried so, and I lost my basket besides." He 
 wiped his crimson forehead, feeling a terrible 
 void now where supper should have been in his
 
 182 Heart's Content. 
 
 stomach. Yet he could go no further until he 
 had taken time to breathe. 
 
 By degrees he told his story, and of how, just 
 as he had reached that wonderful flying boat, he 
 remembered that he was always to deliver his 
 papers at just six o'clock ; and how he had turned 
 back, and had got to the train not a minute too 
 soon. 
 
 " Well, Mars," said the kindly woman, " you 
 know that was the bargain. If you fail in your 
 part of it, of course I have a right to fail in 
 mine." 
 
 " But that isn't my way of doing business," 
 said Mars, rather resentfully. 
 
 " I see it isn't," she said, " and I am very 
 glad." 
 
 Then she said, taking an orange from a pyra- 
 midal golden heap : 
 
 " You must be thirsty and hungry too here 
 is something to refresh you." 
 
 Mars had not expected any reward. He knew 
 the value of oranges five cents each. He ac- 
 cepted it with alacrity, and found himself re- 
 freshed enough to go home at once, without 
 further rest.
 
 Mars's Way <f Doing Business. 183 
 
 " I'll divide with Jane," he reflected, gener- 
 ously, as he went out. 
 
 This orange was as fair as an} r of the three 
 golden apples which, in the legend, beguiled 
 Atalanta from her race. Indeed they must 
 have looked like this, round, fresh, yellow, 
 glowing. 
 
 Mars walked on a full block with it in his 
 hand, and with the resolve in his heart that Jane 
 should have half of it. But he might break off 
 just one little bit of the rind, of course it was 
 very tempting ! 
 
 In doing that, a morsel of the juice naturally 
 touched his lips. Then he had a sudden 
 inspiration. 
 
 Why not eat his part of it now, and not wait ? 
 What was he waiting for? He could carry 
 Jane's to her afterward, just the same. 
 
 He nibbled it, in tiny bits at first, and gin- 
 gerly, then relishably and greedily. Half of it 
 was gone before he knew it, and he had had 
 scarcely a taste. 
 
 Perhaps he might eat just one more section of 
 It than half, and one could hardly tell it by the 
 looks. He ate that.
 
 184 Heart's Content. 
 
 Then it occurred to him, in a half-petulant 
 spirit, that Jane knew nothing of it, any way ; 
 and what reason had he to suppose that she 
 would care ? 
 
 At this juncture, there was only a quarter of 
 it left. He walked slowly. He made the most 
 of the cool sweet juice, and yet every drop was a 
 bitter one to his conscience. 
 
 In an unaccountable way, even the last quar- 
 ter diminished, until only a small piece was left. 
 He was thoroughly ashamed to carry such a 
 mere fragment as that to Jane. It really 
 wouldn't be very polite, and certainly was. not 
 worth while. 
 
 So that was eaten, too. 
 
 Later in the day, out on the door-step, he told 
 Jane, who was perched with her usual devotion 
 close to his side, the marvellous story of the 
 balloon. He dwelt upon how near it had come 
 to their heads as they lay resting under the tree ; 
 how he had distinctly heard La Mountain talk ; 
 and how he had been near enough on the hill to 
 touch the great silk bubble in its net. 
 
 Then how he had had to turn back and leave
 
 Mars' 8 Way of Doing Business. 185 
 
 it. This sacrifice increased in importance with 
 each recital. It really had taken no little moral 
 courage for such an eager, curious boy, to put a 
 check upon all his inclinations, and to turn de- 
 liberately away from an excitement. As he 
 reviewed it, he began to realize how he had been 
 deprived. 
 
 He had no idea of being boastful, but then he 
 did like to be a hero to Jane. 
 
 Perhaps the secret of his favoritism for her 
 was that he could, on almost any occasion, be a 
 hero in her eyes ; while with Nanny or Trudge 
 it was generall}' a scramble for individual rights 
 on either side, without anything of worship, or 
 deference, or partiality. 
 
 Jane asked wonder-eyed questions in plenty. 
 She was willing to lose herself any day in admi- 
 ration for Mars. How did they all look ? Was 
 the balloon as big oh, as big as the house? 
 Would he be afraid to ride in a balloon ? Did 
 he suppose he ever should ride in a balloon ? 
 Why didn't he stay there as long as the people 
 stayed, and find out all about it ? 
 
 " That isn't my way of doing business," was
 
 186 Heart's Content. 
 
 the grand reply. And that proved to be the 
 apex of her admiration for him. Surely there 
 never was as heroic a figure as Mars ! Jane had 
 no more questions to ask. 
 
 Then, little by little, and by going all around 
 Robin Hood's barn, Mars confessed about the 
 orange. 
 
 He had intended to fetch her half it wasn't 
 a very large one. And she, meek little soul, was 
 abundantly proud and happy that he had re- 
 membered her, and thought him a very noble 
 and generous brother. These sentiments entirely 
 obscured the fact that he had eaten the orange 
 himself, and she had neither seen nor tasted it. 
 
 Nanny would have been sure to ask him if 
 that was his '" way of doing business ;" but Jane 
 was not troublesome. It is to be doubted if she 
 was quick-witted enough to probe him to that 
 extent. 
 
 Mars really felt as if he had struck a new 
 key-note, had made a discovery, as it were. 
 That there was a possible orange in the future 
 for a prompt performance of duty may have had 
 its effect.
 
 Another Phase. 187 
 
 " If you will always try to be as right in what 
 you do, as you are likely to be prompt," his 
 father said, " I shall never find any fault in your 
 way of doing business. Both things are need- 
 ful, right and ready."
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 THE OLD BENT TREE. 
 
 " That old familiar tree 
 Whose glory and renown 
 Are spread o'er land and sea." 
 
 IS there any child who has not heard 
 that 
 
 " Satan finds some mischief still 
 For idle hands to do." 
 
 Surely our little flock were familiar with it, 
 for it was one of Aunt Ann's favorite quota- 
 tions. At least once a day she found it applica- 
 ble especially during vacations. 
 
 She held Mars up as a fine example of indus- 
 try to the rest ; but, aside from Jane's knitting- 
 work, the girls found summer too pleasant for 
 anything but idleness. 
 1 88
 
 The Old Bent Tree. 189 
 
 Some distance back from Heart's Content was 
 a wood ; and in that wood was an old tree, a 
 stout oak that bent from the roots in an arch, 
 the top branches touching the ground. It was 
 the belief of the children that the Indians bent 
 it, though it had probably been partially up- 
 turned by the wind, at some early day, and had 
 grown into that position by the weight of its 
 own branches. 
 
 This tree was a favorite resort of children, 
 when they could go in a large party, and the^r 
 climbed from the root over the grand trunk, 
 either high up into its branches, or directly over 
 it to the ground again, as if it had been a bridge. 
 Many wonderful feats were performed in way of 
 reaching the highest limbs, and in perching up 
 iii crotches and clefts, like squirrels. 
 
 But the wood was so dense about it that chil- 
 dren did not usually like to go there alone to 
 play. The stillness had something mysterious 
 in it; and there were stories current among 
 them of Indians with tomahawks, and of pan- 
 thers and wolves. So, unless their numbers 
 warranted it, their voices were rarely heard in 
 that leafy stillness.
 
 190 Heart's Content. 
 
 Moreover, some parents doubted the safety of 
 letting their children go there, as the height from 
 the ground was considerable, and with a crowd 
 of frolicsome children on the trunk there was 
 danger of falls and of broken limbs. 
 
 One winter, years before, when the snow was 
 deep, the tracks of a bear had been found about 
 the old tree ; and that, forever after, added a 
 real atmosphere of danger to the place. 
 
 But Nanny, true to her instincts for forbidden 
 pleasures, liked the old bent tree better than any 
 other play -ground. With her as leader, it was 
 often visited, even after school at night, and 
 sometimes the shadows would deepen into dusk 
 before she thought it time to go home. 
 
 She was more fearless than any one, in all the 
 climbing and perching and swinging. From the 
 ground, her rosy face and her little pink and 
 white plaid dress made her look. more like a red 
 apple, than anything else, up among the green 
 leaves. 
 
 The day after Mars's- blackberrying, the little 
 girls had a visitor to spend the day. It was little 
 Lydia Heather otherwise Blossom. They had 
 exhausted play-house, and swing, and hay mow.
 
 The Old Bent Tree. 191 
 
 Dolls and visiting had been voted a bore, and 
 there yet remained many long hot hours to be 
 got through with before bed-time. 
 
 It was four o'clock ; what should be done ? 
 
 44 Let's go to the old bent tree," brightened 
 Nanny, as \vith an inspiration. 
 
 "Oh, I'm afraid," protested Jane, but only 
 half above her breath, for she knew Nanny would 
 laugh. 
 
 * 4 I'm not afraid," put in stout little Trudge. 
 
 "Nor I," twittered Blossom, too much of a 
 baby to know much about consequences being 
 even smaller than Trudge. 
 
 44 You're forever afraid, Jane," said Nanny, 
 with a high scorn of such a lack of spirit. " I 
 wonder you're not afraid to breathe. What is 
 there to be afraid of, I'd like to know." 
 
 " W-o-l-ves," said Jane, with something of a 
 show of cause on her side, and bringing out her 
 standard objection. 
 
 " Nonsense ! " retorted Nanny, " wolves only 
 come in the winter. Nobody ever saw a wolf 
 in summer." 
 
 Jane could not contradict this wisdom; and
 
 192 Heart's Content. 
 
 consequently showed immediate signs of having 
 weakened in her opposition. But she rallied to 
 say: 
 
 " Mother does not like us to go there." 
 
 "She has never said we mustn't," replied 
 Nanny. 
 
 At this, the bold ones grew bolder. Coward- 
 ice was utterly silenced; and they all started, 
 without a word to mother or Aunt Ann, for the 
 wood. 
 
 As soon as they reached the welcome shade 
 of the trees, they took off their sunbonnets, the 
 better to feel the cool breeze in their hot faces. 
 They loitered, picking up now and then a peb- 
 ble, now and then a flower. They made their 
 way slowly through a hazel-thicket, and then 
 through deep woods, toward the old bent tree. 
 
 They reached it at last always with a shout 
 of welcome, for its fine bent figure, so in con- 
 trast with the straight old monarchs all about, 
 was a perpetual delight to them. 
 
 A cloud had hidden the sun*, and Jane sat 
 down to wipe her hot face with her apron, while 
 Nanny sprang at once up the curved trunk, 
 Trudge and Blossom toiling cautiously after.
 
 The Old Bent Tree. 193 
 
 " See me ! " and " see me I " were the shouts 
 from various points along the journey. 
 
 But Jane was not an enthusiastic looker-on. 
 She was tired, and thought she heard, just now, 
 with a thump at her heart, a distant muttering 
 of thunder. 
 
 If there was one thing that terrified her more 
 than another, it was a thunder shower; and 
 that, as well as the haunting and undefined 
 dread of a wolf, made her very miserable. 
 
 " Why don't you come, Jane ? " piped little 
 Blossom, perched like a fairy close to the first 
 branch. At that, it dawned upon Jane, that if 
 a wolf should come, she would be alone on ther 
 ground, and probably the first victim. 
 
 This was like a sting to her already roused 
 fear ; and she made a wild scramble to join the 
 laughing throng on the tree. Their merriment 
 seemed to her like a reckless defiance of danger, 
 and though ashamed to express her fears for 
 she was conscious of always foreboding alarms 
 and troubles she managed to sa} r , " I 
 thought it thundered." 
 
 At thj.s, Nanny, from her high perch, burst 
 into such a fit of laughter, that she nearly lost
 
 194 Heart* Content. 
 
 her hold; and Trudge and Blossom followed 
 suit, though they hardly knew at what. 
 
 " What won't Jane think next ! " exclaimed 
 Nanny. " She is such a funny girl to find 
 trouble. She'll be the death of me, I know," 
 and her shrill " ho ! ho ! " rang out again. 
 
 Blossom felt sorry for Jane, and said : 
 
 "Oh, Janey, don't be so 'fraid. We're all 
 here ! '' 
 
 Jane made a brave effort to overcome her 
 weakness, and followed the others up the leafy 
 bridge. 
 
 It was exciting to be so far from the ground, 
 and to hear the rustle of boughs so near her. 
 She thought that birds in a nest might feel as 
 she did, so high, and light, and breezy. 
 
 But it was true that she had heard thunder ; 
 and the black cloud could be distinctly seen 
 shutting 'out the sun. Nanny noticed it for 
 some time before she was willing to yield, and 
 she strove to keep up a show of indifference. 
 
 ,But when, after a little, Trudge complained of 
 being hungry, that offered a loophole of honor- 
 able escape ; and she, all at once, remembered 
 that it must be near supper-time.
 
 The Old Bent Tree. 195 
 
 "We'll have to go," she said, "for mother 
 don't know where we are." 
 
 The getting down from the tree was easy 
 work to the nimble and experienced Nanny, 
 and in fact to all, except to the unpractised little 
 Blossom. She had only crawled to the first limb, 
 and the high main arch was still to be crossed 
 and that involved getting round and under 
 interfering branches, and keeping a steady head 
 when the first height was reached. On the other 
 hand, the return down the steep trunk, without 
 twig or bough of any kind to cling to, was even 
 more formidable. 
 
 It was easy enough to climb up, with friendly 
 hands behind to " boost," and the rough bark to 
 cling to, and a waiting help at the top from some 
 squirrel of a girl, who had got up beforehand ; 
 but the getting down threatened not to be so 
 easy. 
 
 Blossom saw her strait, and had much more 
 reason to cry than Jane had had with her imag- 
 inary fears. But she listened to Trudge's en- 
 couraging logic : 
 
 " You can't fall, Blossom, for I couldn't," and
 
 196 Heart's Content. 
 
 tried to do all the contradictory things that 
 Nanny and Jane advised. 
 
 " Now, sit still," from Jane, who had a vague 
 idea that presence of mind implied sitting still ; 
 and, " now run from that branch to the next 
 one " from Nanny, whose resources were all 
 active. 
 
 She instinctively tried to follow Nanny's 
 advice ; but the result was that she followed 
 Jane's, and clung helplessly to the tree. Nanny 
 who had got down once, climbed again to where 
 Blossom was clinging, and cheered, and tried to 
 help her. 
 
 But the height had turned Blossom's little 
 head giddy ; and the consciousness that her 
 plight was a difficult oue, made her cry, and 
 then she could do nothing. 
 
 What was to be done ! 
 
 Jane's head was full of expedients, but none 
 of them seemed practicable. Finally, sensible 
 Trudge thought they would have to go home for 
 help ; and, seeing how really hopeless it was that 
 Blossom could ever get down, it was finally 
 decided that that must be done. 
 
 But who should go, and who should stay ?
 
 The Old Bent Tree. 197 
 
 The parley had occupied a good deal of time. 
 Meanwhile the thunder grew more frequent, and 
 the air darkened. Jane forgot all about the 
 " wolf " in view of the near and real distress. 
 Either to go or to stay was dreadful to go 
 alone through the woods, or to stay alone in the 
 storm. 
 
 She was not selfish. She clung to each little 
 sister, and wanted to share the peril of each. 
 She had no idea of choosing ; but left it all to 
 Nanny. 
 
 Nanny was sobered in earnest ; and for once 
 the dimples relaxed in her cheeks, and she 
 looked almost as solemn as Jane herself. Blossom 
 settled it by saying: 
 
 " Oh, Nanny, stay with me I " 
 
 " Jane and Trudge, you run home and tell 
 mother that Blossom can't get down. You 
 know I am more used to it up here than you 
 are ; and Blossom and I won't be one bit afraid," 
 said Nanny. 
 
 Just then the wind began to rise, turning the 
 white sides of the leaves uppermost. Otherwise 
 there wa*s a deathly stillness. Jane took Trudge's 
 hand, and with a parting pang looked back and
 
 198 Heart's Content. 
 
 saw Nanny and Blossom sitting on the tree next 
 to the great limb, and watching them Blossom 
 tearful, and Nanny trying to laugh. 
 
 This put wings into her feet, and she dragged 
 the helpless but willing Trudge after. On, on, 
 toward home, with the dense black cloud front- 
 ing them, and the strong wind blowing in their 
 frightened faces. A flash of lightning, followed 
 by a heavy rumble, only added to their speed. 
 They must not wait to cry for the ones in dan- 
 ger, but they must hurry, hurry ! 
 
 They were bare-headed, and the thick hazel 
 bushes scratched and hindered them. But not a 
 word of complaint from either Trudge, so 
 composed and eager, making as fast time with 
 her sturdy, heavy little body, as Jane did, with 
 her slim, light one. 
 
 Did it sprinkle? One drop, surely fell on 
 Jane's hot cheek. 
 
 But if only it need not lighten any more, she 
 would not care for a wetting. It did lighten, 
 though, a bright fierce flash, with a quick, heavy 
 volley after it ; and down poured the drenching 
 drops, and on they fled. 
 
 Poor little girls! They had scarcely any
 
 The Old Bent Tree. 199 
 
 breath or strength left, when they reached the 
 gate at last, and found their mother nearly wild 
 with anxiety. 
 
 Their story was quickly told ; and Mars 
 secured the aid of Blossom's father, who was a 
 near neighbor, and with shawls and umbrellas 
 they started to the rescue. 
 
 And Nanny and Blossom ! 
 
 As soon as Jane and Trudge were out of sight 
 Blossom's courage vanished, and Nanny began 
 to comfort her. 
 
 "Play we're the Babes in the Wood," she 
 said ; but that only made Blossom cry the 
 harder, since that had always been the most try- 
 ing of stories to her warm little heart. 
 
 " Well," pursued Nanny, " play we're gypsies, 
 and live in a tent ? you sit close up to the limb, 
 Blossie, and I'll make a tent of my apron." 
 
 Then she tickled Blossom, to insure her laugh- 
 ing ; and said she didn't think there was ever 
 such fun before. That was just the place of all 
 others to play gypsy ; and she chattered so much 
 that Blossom had no chance to get frightened, 
 until the flash of lightning came. When it did 
 come, Nanny gave a great jump, and grew pale ;
 
 200 Heart's Content. 
 
 but rallied, and turned it off by drawing the 
 apron over both their heads, and saying: 
 " Oh, isn't it fun, Blossie ? " 
 
 She now found the wind to be dangerously 
 strong, arid thought to herself that if Jane was 
 there she would surely be afraid that the tree 
 would blow over. As for her, she only fixed 
 Blossom as securely as possible against the limb, 
 and putting one arm around her, held on with 
 the other hand as tight as she could. 
 
 She had to sit astride the great trunk in order 
 to keep her place at all. But still she ran on 
 gossiping ; wishing they had something there to 
 play cook, since Don and father were no doubt 
 that very moment cooking their supper over a 
 camp-fire. For her part, she wouldn't be afraid 
 to stay all night, as Don did, but thought it 
 would be jolly. 
 
 Then the rain came, drenching them to the 
 skin, and pouring streams down their hair and 
 faces. 
 
 " Oh, isn't it fun ? " choked Nanny, and Bios 
 Bom piped a feeble, strangled " yes." 
 
 " Hold tight to me, Blossie," cautioned Nanny,
 
 The Old Bent Tree. 201 
 
 catching her breath, "that's the way the 
 gypsies do." 
 
 And Blossom clung, and tried to laugh, and 
 feel that it was " having fun ; " but every other 
 breath was a sob. 
 
 The hand by which Nanny clung to the tree 
 was nearly blistered; but she held fast, and 
 when she saw Blossom's quivering lip, she poked 
 her under her arm, and " tickled " her, as she 
 sometimes did Trudge, in their morning frolics 
 before they got dressed. 
 
 Blossom's father, followed by Mars, was not 
 slow in reaching the tree, nor were they any too 
 soon, for Nanny's strength was nearly gone. 
 Blossom dropped her little dripping body with 
 perfect trust, into her tall father's outstretched 
 arms, and she liked that way of gypsying best 
 having a shawl wrapped nicely around her, and 
 being borne along under an umbrella. 
 
 Nanny scrambled down, spry as a spider, and 
 trotted bravely along after Mars, who kept up a 
 running fire upon botherations and nuisances, 
 and girls in general. The storm buffeted them 
 so that she could not keep the shelter of his 
 umbrella, had she tried ; but she paddled after
 
 202 Heart's Content. 
 
 him, taking pains, not to avoid the puddles that 
 lay in her path, but to wade through every one. 
 Being very wet, gave her for once in her life full 
 freedom to splash and spatter and bedraggle 
 herself to her heart's content. 
 
 One hand was smarting very much, and even 
 bleeding ; but who ever knew Nanny to cry for 
 such a little thing as that ? 
 
 When they got to the house, Jane and Trudge 
 stood waiting in the door to greet them. Blos- 
 som cried out, all her trials forgotten, " Trudge, 
 we played gypsy!" 
 
 Then the wet things had to be taken off and 
 dry ones put on, and Blossom was allowed to 
 linger only long enough to say "good-night." 
 
 It was a great puzzle to Aunt Ann, how 
 Nanny's feet came to be so much wetter than 
 &ny other part of her body, and Mars solved it 
 by saying he guessed it rained upwards, which 
 set Nanny off into perfect convulsions. Noth- 
 ing so amused her as to have Mars stand by her 
 and help her out when she had been doing things 
 for which she knew she ought to be scolded. 
 Her hand was bound up, and she had the addi- 
 tional frolic of trying to eat her bread and milk
 
 The Old Bent Tree. 203 
 
 with her left hand. Trudge, of course, must 
 imitate her, and between them they managed to 
 soil two more clean aprons before going to bed. 
 
 Nanny, thinking that perhaps some fault 
 might attach to the afternoon's proceedings, 
 boldly announced that she was to blame, and 
 that neither Trudge nor Jane were at all in 
 fault. 
 
 " There is no necessity for telling us that," 
 said Aunt Ann, who not being able to suppress 
 a smile, made it as grim as she could. 
 
 " Nobody ever thinks of attributing such 
 performances to anybody but you."
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 A BIT OF DISCIPLHTE. 
 
 * Piped the black-bird on the beechen spray, 
 ' Pretty maid' slow wandering this way, 
 What's your name ? ' quoth he." 
 
 AT last vacation was over, and the battle of 
 getting ready for school began again o' 
 mornings, and the hungry comings home o' 
 nights. 
 
 Don, when he got home from his forest holi- 
 day, bronzed and very experienced in the eyes 
 of all his mates, was not allowed to feel any 
 regret or impatience ; but was stimulated anew 
 to study by the promise of going to college, and 
 he was to begin Greek at the opening of the fall 
 term. Nanny found so much " fun " everywhere, 
 204
 
 A Bit of Discipline. 205 
 
 in school as well as out, that she felt no reluctance. 
 Jane pined a little at leaving Totty and her 
 dolls and cat ; but strange to say, the insubordi- 
 nation all lay with Trudge. 
 
 She didn't want to go I In vain was a nice 
 new first-reader offered in place of the worn, 
 green primer which had stood the stress bravely, 
 since she had carried it to bed with her every 
 night, and had scarcely taken her food without 
 it either under her arm, or beside her plate. 
 
 In vain was a fresh, ruffled white apron put 
 on over the pink gingham frock, and a bit of 
 pink riboon tied at the end of her smooth, flaxen 
 braid. She didn't want to go. 
 
 Mr. and Mrs. Lawrence exchanged amused 
 glances at this new and unaccountable obstinacy. 
 And even Aunt Ann was obliged to leave the 
 room on some pretext, to avoid being seen to 
 laugh, when Trudge took her stand. Grave, 
 perverse, studious, mischievous, whimsical little 
 Trudge would not go to school. 
 
 Would not, I say, but she did, though very 
 unwillingly. She neither pouted nor cried, but 
 planted her little willful feet, so to speak, and 
 declined to move, until fairly scatted out of the
 
 206 Heart's Content. 
 
 house, like a kitten, by the whole amused 
 family. 
 
 What possessed her, nobody could divine. 
 She gave no reason, and, after the first morning, 
 made no outward rebellion, but those who 
 watched saw that her determination did not 
 waver. 
 
 More than a week passed, and yet each morn- 
 ing the scene was repeated, until getting off to 
 school began to include the frolic of getting 
 Trudge started. Mars called her a mule, and 
 would seriously have missed the bit of comedy 
 she furnished him each day in her staiu, sober- 
 going way. 
 
 Her old love for her book did not come back. 
 She plodded through her lessons in her near- 
 sighted, faultless way, she played and was cheer- 
 ful; but there the fact remained, it was all 
 against her will she didn't want to go to 
 school. 
 
 The morning of which I write she had a more 
 than commonly fresh and willing start. Mars 
 did not have to " shoo " her, nor say " get up " 
 to her, with a cluck, as he would at a horse. 
 She kissed mamma and Totty and Aunt Ann,
 
 A Bit of Discipline. 207 
 
 and bowled away quite blithe and cheery. She 
 even twittered and sang to herself, and was even 
 heedless in her light-heartedness. 
 
 Evidently by not being opposed, she was be- 
 ginning to forget her own perversity. The truth 
 is, the first-reader was growing very attractive 
 to her quite a new world compared with the 
 old one of the primer. 
 
 She had lingered a little behind the rest, since 
 Nanny was always off like a swallow on the 
 wing, and Jane was usually rods behind, in Mars's 
 wake never able to keep up with him, but 
 never willing to be left behind. As we have 
 seen, she had taken a very timely start, and wore 
 her most shining morning face. 
 
 When almost to school she slipped on a wet 
 crossing, and, sorry to tell, fell at full length. 
 Gathering herself up, she found her pretty clean 
 stockings wet and stained from ankle to knee, 
 and her neat little boots muddy and spoiled. 
 
 Dismay seized her, and a great globule of a 
 tear ran down either cheek. The instant ques- 
 tion was, how could she go to school so untidy, 
 so uncomfortable? 
 
 She surveyed herself a minute or two, growing
 
 208 Heart's Content. 
 
 more discouraged all the time, and then with 
 slow reluctant steps turned about and started 
 toward home. Sobbing and distressed she ap- 
 peared before Aunt Ann. From her she got 
 never a word of rebuke, but got both comfort 
 and kisses for the mishap. 
 
 With a good deal of bustle the soiled stock- 
 ings and shoes were presently replaced with 
 fresh ones. But this took time, and before it 
 was completed, school hour was past. 
 
 " No matter for to-day," said Aunt Ann, cheer- 
 ily " make yourself as happy as you can." 
 
 And that Trudge did. It seemed to her she 
 never had had such a delightful time. Totty 
 was charming and playful, and did not once cry ; 
 the day was cool and sunny, and she gave her 
 dolls, and Jane's too, an airing ; and best of all, 
 she was allowed to go with her mother on a drive 
 into the country, on which trip she carried Jane's 
 Juliet in her arms. 
 
 No school-room, no tiresome sitting still with- 
 out whispering, but all was free and glad. " Oh, 
 dear," she said to herself, " I don't want to go to 
 school any more ! " 
 
 Next morning it was plain that her holiday
 
 A Bit of Discipline. 209 
 
 had been a mistake. The old strange reluctance 
 had come back, and Mars's mule was more than 
 ever firmly planted. 
 
 She was loth and slow in all her preparations. 
 She could not find her book; Aunt Ann 
 " pulled " dreadfully in braiding her hair ; her 
 handkerchief was lost, and it would soon be nine 
 o'clock. 
 
 But somehow Aunt Ann was very kind and 
 helpful. She hurried about with energy, found 
 the missing things, and had Trudge despatched, 
 in spite of herself, even earlier than usual. 
 
 But Trudge was sour and unwilling. She did 
 not twitter, nor hop first on one foot and then 
 on another, as was her habit ; she dragged her 
 feet, scowled a deep mark into her forehead, and 
 went on her way alone. 
 
 A naughty thought was in her mind, and it 
 shadowed her like a black cloud. And it came 
 to be more than a thought, because she carried 
 it out. When she came to the wet crossing, she 
 deliberately fell or rather sat down in the 
 mud just as she had done the day before by 
 accident. 
 
 You must know she was not very skilled or
 
 210 Heart's Content. 
 
 ingenious in naughtiness, to go and repeat the 
 same mishap ; had she been she would have de- 
 vised a variety for her programme. 
 
 Of course, once more the skirts and stockings 
 and shoes were stained and spoiled. She picked 
 herself up, but this time without tears or dis- 
 tress. She did not ponder what should be done, 
 but turned at once toward home. 
 
 Again she entered Aunt Ann's kind presence 
 with a rueful face, but it was not a sincere 
 one. 
 
 "I fell down again," she said, with a look 
 rather more guilty than sorrowful. 
 
 Aunt Ann showed no suspicion or distrust, 
 but went energetically to work, without, how- 
 ever, any comfort or kisses. 
 
 She put fresh clothes in place of the soiled 
 ones, but they were coarser shoes and plainer 
 stockings. They were not nearly so pretty as 
 the ones which were taken off. 
 
 When all was done, Aunt Ann got the sun- 
 bonnet and book, and taking Trudge's hand, set 
 out for school. 
 
 " But it is too late, now," protested Trudge, at 
 this unexpected turn affairs were taking. She
 
 A Bit of Discipline. 211 
 
 had not counted upon being set to rights sc 
 quickly, nor upon being so summarily cheated 
 out of her freedom. Yet she could do no less 
 than obey, and it was not long before she could 
 have been seen taking rather longer strides than 
 were graceful or happy, but making very good 
 speed, nevertheless, at cheerful Aunt Ann's side, 
 and very near the school-room door. 
 
 She had no time to notice how warm and blue 
 the sky looked, but could hear in a distant field 
 the quail call, " wet my feet ! " " wet my feet ! " 
 
 The cry of the quail was a great mystery to 
 Trudge. Aunt Ann had told them a tale at one 
 time, in which she chanced to say that the quail 
 called out to a runaway boy, " Bob White ! Bob 
 White ; " but Mars was very certain it was a 
 sign of rain, and that the quail was a prophet, 
 who said, " more wet ! more wet ! " while Nanny 
 clung to the traditional " wet my feet ! " 
 
 So with a view to making conversation, 
 Trudge said, now : 
 
 " What is it truly that the quail says ? " 
 
 Oh, what a check to the colloquy was Aunt 
 Ann's reply : 
 
 " I think he says, * Do right ! Do right I ' "
 
 212 Heart's Content. 
 
 As they entered the school-room Aunt Anu 
 said something in an aside to the teacher, who 
 thereupon seated Trudge without question or 
 reprimand. 
 
 And there she was, after all poor rebellious 
 little Trudge at the dull desk, and forbidden 
 to whisper. How very uncomfortable I Did it 
 once suggest itself to her that she had been the 
 cause of discomfort to any one else ? Had not 
 Aunt Ann been annoyed, and tired, and grieved, 
 too, perhaps ? She was too small to reason, and 
 fortunately Aunt Ann was very patient. 
 
 Now Trudge, blind in her baby stubbornness 
 for she was little more than a baby, being only 
 five years old had no idea that Aunt Ann had 
 read her secret; and that she knew perfectly 
 well that the last fall had been a voluntary 
 one. 
 
 But Aunt Ann had seen from the very start 
 the transparent little trick, and to tell the truth 
 thought it wonderfully cunning and ingenious. 
 Still, Trudge must not be allowed to get wilful, 
 nor to think she could always do as she 
 pleased. 
 
 The next morning found her still in her per-
 
 A Bit of Discipline. 213 
 
 verse state of mind. Again, she started out 
 with a grim little purpose in her face. Surely a 
 spirit of contrariness had entered into that 
 staunch and open little heart. 
 
 She dragged her reluctant feet over the sun- 
 warmed walks ; she seemed pondering at every 
 step. At length her decision was made. 
 
 She would not sit down in the mud, she would 
 not run away, she would simply go back home, 
 and would not go to school. 
 
 So home she went, after loitering until she 
 felt sure it would be too late for Aunt Ann to 
 take her back. Such a face as she presented 
 when unexpectedly she entered the room where 
 mamma sat jogging Totty's cradle. Aunt Ann 
 was arranging some flowers, and the room was 
 fragrant with the smell of marigolds and asters. 
 They were speaking of how the autumn colors 
 show in flowers as well as in the foliage. 
 
 Aunt Ann was adjusting the gorgeous colors 
 in a vase, when looking up, who should she see 
 but Trudge! 
 
 Could that be her upright little girl who was 
 usually so frank, and sweet and willing ? She 
 looked at the eyes they were troubled and
 
 214 Sear? s Content. 
 
 guilty; the mouth had a set expression, quite 
 out of character, and dreadful ; there was no 
 cheer or happiness in any feature, but only 
 determination. 
 
 Mamma looked almost in despair, reproachful, 
 disappointed, grieved. But Aunt Ann rose to 
 the occasion, and her face was cool, severe, and 
 not the least loving and tender and forgiving, as 
 it had always been before. 
 
 It was a crisis with Trudge. She stood there 
 with cheeks burning, and tears coming into her 
 eyes. It required no little courage for so good 
 a child to be so naughty. 
 
 Neither mamma, nor Aunt Ann spoke ; but 
 both waited an explanation. So Trudge stam- 
 mered, clinging to all that she possessed of 
 boldness : 
 
 " I'm not going to school any more. 
 
 " For what reason, my dear ? " asked mamma, 
 gently. 
 
 " I don't want to," hesitatingly, for to Aunt 
 Ann that would be no reason at all. 
 
 "Has anything happened, my child?" said 
 mamma, in a low, quiet voice. 
 
 "N-o" faltered Trudge.
 
 A Bit of Discipline. 215 
 
 " Only that you don't want to " queried Aunt 
 Ann, laying down her lovely, but unarranged 
 flowers upon the table. 
 
 Trudge's courage all oozed away. She had 
 never been placed in such a trying position. In 
 this final effort her obstinacy seemed to vanish 
 like the dew at noon. 
 
 Aunt Ann said nothing more. She left the 
 room, and came back properly attired for the 
 street. She took Trudge's unresisting hand, 
 and led her without a word from the room. 
 Trudge knew that all had been of no use ; and 
 that she had got to go to school, after all. 
 
 It was not the going to school so much, with 
 Aunt Ann, as it was a matter of obedience. In- 
 deed, had not Trudge been so persistent at the 
 outset, no one would have thought of the con- 
 finement of school for her. But, as it is a part 
 of the old-fashioned code, that children must 
 obey their elders, now that her not going had 
 become a question of authority, of course she 
 must yield. 
 
 And to school she did go ; and was led in 
 again, and was obliged to listen while Aunt Ann 
 said to madame:
 
 216 Heart's Content. 
 
 " I am sorry to tell you that our little Trudge 
 is trying to play truant," and then Aunt Ann 
 added in a lower voice, " I'm afraid it runs in 
 our family" at which both ladies smiled, just 
 the mere twinkle of a smile. 
 
 Who could punish such a wholesome little 
 offender, as Trudge? No one. 
 
 Madame said, " perhaps Trudge does not like 
 her seat. If so, I know how we can arrange it," 
 and she asked one of the larger girls to fetch a 
 chair, which she pointed out at the side of the 
 room. 
 
 This was a pretty willow chair, very comfor- 
 table and dainty. Madame had it placed upon 
 the platform beside her own. 
 
 Now, the greatest favor which madarne could 
 show to a pupil was to allow her to sit at her 
 own desk. It was reward enough for the most 
 zealous efforts in study, to sit beside her, who 
 was so beautiful in those childish eyes. Jane, 
 who gave so little trouble, was often privileged, 
 and sat by her chair during recitations, and at 
 such times she felt as supreme as a queen upon 
 a throne. Nanny had been known to be more
 
 A Bit of Discipline. 217 
 
 broken-hearted over madame's refusal to let hei 
 occupy that place than by any other grief that 
 could have befallen her. 
 
 Do not all of those little girl pupils or at 
 least all who have not joined her in the Life 
 Beyond remember that lovely presence ? There 
 was not a movement of the white hands, nor a 
 glance of the soulful eyes, nor a ripple of the 
 soft curls by the wind, that did not move those 
 young hearts to worship. There was never a 
 severity so dreadful, as to see reproach in her 
 glance words were not needed and as I 
 have said, no reward like being near her close 
 beside her, and to feel her smile. 
 
 Trudge was in ecstacy. All the " govern- 
 ment" that could have been brought to bear 
 upon her could never have achieved the result 
 desired, as did madame's loving, gracious 
 tact. 
 
 Trudge was not punished : she was understood. 
 
 How pretty her first reader was ! How 
 favored was she above all other girls ! She could 
 sit in the willow chair, and close to madame's 
 side. She did not care to whisper, even had
 
 218 Hear?* Content. 
 
 there been any one to whisper to. She was quiet 
 as a mouse. Even when Nanny tried to tele- 
 graph some signal to her which from the 
 extraordinary display of her two rows of white 
 teeth, must have been desperately funny 
 Trudge kept her gravity. To be sure she did 
 not see Nanny, never being able to see anything 
 much beyond her own nose ; but if she had seen 
 and had understood, she was too conscientious 
 and happy to laugh. She liked to go to school 
 now I 
 
 Aunt Ann returned home, feeling that the 
 perplexing riddle was solved. With her puri- 
 tanical notions she would have striven with 
 Trudge to the bitter end I had almost said of 
 a whipping; but that is altogether too much. 
 Trudge would have held out, Aunt Ann would 
 have persisted. And no one knows how it 
 would have ended. 
 
 Now at one stroke of the swift sword of tact 
 
 5 
 
 which has severed more than one Gordian knot, 
 the troublesome tangle had been cut in twain. 
 
 It is doubtful if Trudge ever knew she had 
 been naughty. Certain it is that thereafter
 
 A Bit of Discipline. 219 
 
 nothing short of force could have kept her from 
 school, even though, after a day or two, she was 
 returned to her old seat. Mars forgot his 
 cognomen of mule, and Aunt Ann took greater 
 pride in her than ever.
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 A WRONG STOEY. 
 
 " Ah, he who laughs at crooked men 
 Must needs walk very straight." 
 
 THERE was something in the way in which 
 Mars twisted himself into his little jacket 
 that morning, that foreboded mischief. Either 
 he had slept too well, and was rested up for his 
 day's campaign, or else he had not slept well 
 enough, and was nervous in consequence. 
 
 At any rate, the energy with which he stamped 
 into his boots, and splashed the water over his 
 face and close-clipped hair, meant, at least, that 
 he did not intend to be caught napping that 
 day.
 
 A Wrong Story. 221 
 
 At breakfast he bolted in a dreadful manner. 
 He took a scalding mouthful of coffee, and 
 when it burned him, took immediately thereafter 
 a swallow of cold water. 
 
 His mother protested : 
 
 " Oh, Mars, you must not do so ! " when he 
 replied : 
 
 " All the modern conveniences, mamma ; hot 
 and cold water." 
 
 After this he was ready to be off. Perhaps 
 what stimulated him was the fact that the nights 
 were growing frosty, and the mornings were 
 sparkling and fresh. 
 
 This was the day of all play and no school 
 Saturday. Other mornings dragged ; they were 
 quite likely to bring headaches and toe aches, 
 groans, and " tired " excuses ; but Saturdays 
 lowered they ever so dark with rain, began 
 several hours earlier in the morning, and ended 
 at least two hours later at night, than did any 
 other day of the week. 
 
 Well, as I said, Mars was off. He was ranging 
 the neighborhood for his favorite playmate, Jack 
 Heather. His sturdy, stumpy little body was
 
 222 Heart's Content. 
 
 never, by any means, mercury-footed for light- 
 ness, but this morning, in particular, he con- 
 vinced every one within hearing that he was 
 shod in good strong boots. 
 
 Aunt Ann gave an exclamation of relief as he 
 banged out of the door, and Jane ran to the 
 window to watch the lighthouse of his head, as 
 he stood over in their neighbor's door-yard, 
 whistling shrilly through his fingers for Jack, 
 who was still at breakfast. 
 
 I must premise, before entering upon this 
 day's events, that Mars had never been known 
 to tell a lie, even though, by doing so, he might 
 have escaped punishment, or other disagreeable 
 results. This was the anchorage of all con- 
 cerned in him ; for if that tendency had been 
 added to his other positive qualities for getting 
 into mischief, it would have been a trying case 
 indeed. He was never even known to shirk or 
 to evade ; he would stand by the truth, even 
 when it shamed and humiliated him. 
 
 But the day following this very stirring morn- 
 ing, Mars deviated from this rule. He told a 
 wrong story.
 
 A Wrong Story. 223 
 
 In the not very near neighborhood of Heart's 
 Content, but within several blocks, lived a 
 family of the name of Victor. 
 
 This family was made up of seven, or more, 
 3hildren, who were dirty and neglected, and 
 counted as very undesirable in every way. They 
 were the dread of mothers in that entire vicinity, 
 because they were given to bad language, pil- 
 fering, and many other uncomfortable habits, 
 and set, withal, such an open example of low- 
 ness, that they were shunned and blamed on all 
 occasions. 
 
 Mars scorned to play with them, and was 
 never seen in their company. It is true he had 
 " licked " one of the larger ones for jostling 
 Jane, and crowding her off the side-walk one 
 day, in some rude boy frolic ; but further than 
 that, he had no association with them. 
 
 Jack Heather, after some delay, responded to 
 Mars's whistle, and came out. 
 
 They debated whether they should go nutting 
 or to the pond, and finally decided on the pond. 
 That afforded a variety of water-side play, such 
 as skipping stones, building sand-forts, and sail- 
 ing on rafts made of pieces of boards. What
 
 224 Heart's Content. 
 
 one could not think of, the other could, and the 
 forenoon passed briskly until ten o'clock. 
 
 Then Mars began to be hungry the only 
 thing that ever made him willing to go home. 
 lie made known the fact to Jack, and as that 
 very knowledge made him hungry too, they 
 started. In taking a " short cut " they passed a 
 German house, where the large side-yard was full 
 of grape-vines, and the vines very full of great 
 ripe clusters of grapes. 
 
 You have read, no doubt, how the Greek hero, 
 Achilles, was vulnerable only in his heel; and 
 how Siegfried, the Scandinavian, had a weak 
 spot between his shoulders, caused from a linden 
 leaf falling there during his bath in dragon's 
 blood ; well, I have often thought that all boys 
 must, figuratively, have had a linden leaf fall on 
 their stomachs, instead of their backs, so vulner- 
 able are they there to even the puny assaults of 
 green apples, water melons, grapes, and the like. 
 It was so with Mars and Jack, at least ; for at 
 once they began gazing and lingering, as if their 
 mouths watered over something. 
 
 The grapes were in purple ripeness and pro- 
 fusion, and the very sight of them seemed to
 
 A Wrong Story. 225 
 
 cast a sorcery over them that held them to the 
 place. Mars was, indeed, very hungry, and he 
 could have almost devoured his friend Jack ; 
 while Jack was so nearly famished, Mars would 
 have been a mere mouthful to him. 
 
 They peered and reconnoitered and discussed 
 the big bunches, until at length Jack announced 
 his intention of helping himself to just one stem. 
 Mars thought it dreadful, yet he offered no 
 protest. 
 
 There was not a sign of life about the house, 
 and they forgot, or possibly did not know, that 
 apparently blank-looking windows may have 
 very keen eyes behind them. So Jack climbed 
 nimbly over the fence, and Mars, very much 
 absorbed in watching him, perched himself on 
 the top, midway between safety and temptation. 
 His position was somewhat critical, as he was 
 astride where a picket had been broken out. 
 
 Jack was but a little fellow, and the vines 
 quite hid him ; when all at once, to Mars's 
 great surprise, a very stern-looking woman stood 
 directly in front of him. She seemed to come 
 out of the ground, he thought, as he had neither 
 heard nor seen anything of her approach.
 
 226 Hearts Content. 
 
 Jack had heard from the first, and had slipped 
 slyly from the shelter of one vine to another ; 
 and was, even now, in the act of getting out at 
 another corner of the garden, leaving Mars to 
 face the music alone. 
 
 " What are you doing here ? " said the woman, 
 fiercely. 
 
 *' Nothing," replied Mars, stoutly. 
 
 " Nothing ! " she cried ; " you. are stealing my 
 grapes, and I have caught you at it ! " 
 
 " I haven't touched your grapes ! " retorted 
 Mars, beginning to blaze up, and feeling a rush 
 like a hot wind under the crown of his hat. 
 
 " Well, if you haven't, you meant to," said 
 the apparently angry woman. "Now I want 
 to know whose boy you are. I'll teach boys to 
 get over my fence, and carry off my grapes ! " 
 
 It came over Mars now that his position was 
 a very suspicious one, to say the least. Jack 
 was gone, and he had no one to help him out ; 
 he was on the fence, and in such shape he could 
 not easily get down. If he had not intended 
 to take any grapes, still it would be hard to 
 convince the woman of that ; and, moreover, he 
 had allowed Jack to do it, without a word of
 
 A Wrong Story. 227 
 
 dissent. Indeed, he had sat looking on, and by 
 that very fact had abetted and sanctioned it. 
 
 He began to feel ashamed, as he realized it ; 
 oh, so ashamed ! He would have given any- 
 thing to be out of it, he felt guilty, mean, 
 mortified ; indeed, he had never been placed 
 before where he could not even excuse himself 
 to himself. 
 
 What would his mother, what would Jane 
 say? He, Mars, accused of stealing grapes? 
 The disgrace would be dreadful as bad, almost, 
 as if it had been true. How could he explain ! 
 how could he have them know ! All this passed 
 over him in a flash, as it were. 
 
 "Come,*' said the woman, drawing nearer 
 with a deep frown, " I want to know whose boy 
 you are." 
 
 " I'm I'm " stammered Mars, " I'm one of 
 the Victor boys!" 
 
 " I'll find out whether you're one of the Vic- 
 tor boys or not," retorted the woman, with a 
 doubting scowl, as Mars skipped from his perch, 
 and walked dejectedly away. 
 
 Now, this woman who had seemed so fierce, 
 was, in fact, a very kind-hearted person, and
 
 228 Heart's Content. 
 
 knew who Mars was all the time, having been 
 many times under obligation to Mrs. Lawrence, 
 in sickness and trouble. Still, she did not think 
 it would do to let it go in this way, and that it 
 would be best for Mars to learn that he could 
 not shift his mischief so easily to other shoul- 
 ders. So she put on her bonnet, and followed 
 him home. 
 
 He had just got into the house, tired and 
 excited, and was launching out with a relish 
 into a big slice of bread and butter, when he 
 saw her coming in at the back gate. 
 
 To say that he was no longer hungry, and 
 that he . quickly disappeared through the front 
 door, is only to express a little of his shame 
 and dismay. 
 
 His escape was related to Mrs. Lawrence, as 
 softened as it could be by the woman, who really 
 liked the up-and-down, hot-cheeked way in which 
 Mars denied taking her grapes, and who could 
 not overcome her merriment at his quick-witted 
 effort to shade disgrace. 
 
 " He'll make a great man," she said, in broken 
 German, no doubt intending to convey the idea 
 that he was very smart.
 
 A Wrong Story. 229 
 
 She laughed again, and again. The Victor 
 boys were such known pilferers that their repu- 
 tation could not well be made worse, and there 
 was something very ludicrous to her in the 
 thought of that clean, fair, straightforward, well- 
 dressed little scamp, trying to make any one 
 believe he belonged to the lean, swarthy, dirty, 
 ill-dressed crew of Victor boys ! 
 
 Mrs. Lawrence was shocked and grieved, 
 notwithstanding the woman's efforts to smooth 
 over the affair. It seemed dreadful to her that 
 Mars should tell a falsehood, and yet she could 
 not help a warm thought of love going out to 
 him for the very deed itself, since she knew by 
 instinct, so well his mixture of motives self- 
 respect, love for his mother, and scorn for even 
 the appearance of doing a mean act. 
 
 But Mars was like a haunted boy, he could 
 not go home, and he could not play, but was 
 pursued with shame ; until finally his open 
 nature triumphed, and he turned suddenly acd 
 went to his mother. 
 
 He felt from the first look at her face that she 
 knew all, and so he plunged at once into hia 
 dory.
 
 L'30 Heart's Content. 
 
 " That woman told you I told a lie, and I did. 
 f didn't touch a grape, and I told her I didn't ; 
 but she wouldn't believe me. Besides I was on 
 the fence, and I knew she would come and tell 
 3 r ou, and I didn't want you to find out that any 
 one even thought I could do such a thing such 
 a mean thing and so I tried to make her be- 
 lieve I was a Victor boy." 
 
 Aunt Ann, who sat with her needlework in 
 her hands, had not even a frown, but turned as 
 if to get better light on her work. Mars was 
 planted like a very small Colossus, fair, and 
 square in front of his mother. He blushed a 
 good deal, but they were open and honest 
 blushes, not hidden and ashamed ones. 
 
 " But the Victor boys ; " said Mrs. Lawrence, 
 " was it honorable toward them, when they had 
 nothing to do with it ? " 
 
 " Oh, yes," answered Mars, coolly, " they steal 
 all the time it didn't hurt them any." 
 
 " I am not so sure," she said. 
 
 "But that isn't it, mamma," he went on, his 
 lips beginning to quiver. " I told the lie, and I 
 am very sorry." 
 
 She found it impossible to get any other idea
 
 A Wrong Story. 231 
 
 of wrong into his head, except the wrong of a 
 falsehood. Of the Victor boys he persisted that 
 it might have been them ; and she was obliged 
 to confine his penitence to the only thing for 
 which he had any regret. But she took this 
 opportunity to urge him never to tell a white lie, 
 even with a good motive.
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 o 
 
 THE FUNNT MASK. 
 ' 'A cares not what mischief he doth." 
 NE luckless day, as Nanny stepped her 
 buoyant way home from school, she over- 
 heard some boys in the street talking and laugh- 
 ing in great glee, over their pranks. The tempt- 
 ation was great to know what had been so funny, 
 and so she slackened her pace to hear. 
 
 " Scared almost to death," was one of the 
 exclamations ; " Why, we thought he'd die I " 
 was another, followed by delighted bursts of 
 laughter. Then, walking very slowly, she heard 
 the words "dough face." That seed dropped 
 upon the fruitful soil of Nanny's mischief, 
 232
 
 The Funny Mask. 233 
 
 sprouted at once, and grew, like Jack's bean- 
 stalk, to an incredible height in a very short 
 time. She apprehended that a dough face was a 
 frightful mask, made as hideous as the maker 
 chose, and she resolved to have one, and to 
 wear it. 
 
 No opportunity happened that night, but next 
 day she begged some dough of the girl in the 
 kitchen, rolled it out very thin and pressed it 
 over her own face, pinching out a long nose, 
 however, over her own brief pug. This face she 
 dried in the oven, having cut out great hollows 
 for eyes, and a gaunt cavern for a mouth. 
 
 " How it will scare Jane ! " she thought, 
 exultingly. 
 
 All day long this plotting kept her very merry. 
 She hinted to Don of a great secret that would 
 astonish him before many days. She piqued 
 Mars's curiosity at first, and later threw him 
 into a hot passion by telling him that she knew 
 something oh, so funny but could not tell 
 him because he was sure, always, to tell every- 
 thing he knew to Jane. Trudge and Jane were 
 to be her victims Jane in particular, she was 
 so credulous and easily duped.
 
 234 Hearts Content. 
 
 There was no malice in this ; but only to 
 think of seeing Jane jump and scream, and be- 
 lieve it was a ghost, was enough to make her 
 nerves tingle with delight. Her own frights 
 always ended in a laugh, and to be startled, or 
 to startle any one else, seemed to her the rarest 
 kind of " fun." 
 
 Now the question arose, when could she 
 appear in it? Jane had not felt very well all 
 day, and might go to bed very early. This 
 fidgetted Nanny, and she tried to force circum- 
 stances into favoring her. 
 
 The days had grown shorter, and the dews 
 were very heavy and dull. Already slight fires 
 had been lighted in the sitting-room at nightfall, 
 and lamp-light had grown to seem very cosy 
 and cheerful. Perhaps after they were all col- 
 lected for their evening study, or reading, would 
 be the best time. 
 
 So Nanny was particular to announce that she 
 must study very hard that night. That was 
 enough, of course, to make Jane think she must 
 do the same. As soon as the lamp was lighted, 
 they gathered round the table with their books 
 and slates. Trudge spelled her long words out
 
 The Funny Mask. 235 
 
 loud, which though a possible help to her was a 
 great hindrance and interruption to the rest. 
 Mars was not there, as he had lingered longer 
 than usual over the delivery of his newspapers. 
 Nanny's plan seemed likely to work very well. 
 As to her books, she could not have told whether 
 they were right side up or not, so intent was she 
 upon her frolic. 
 
 At last she had the satisfaction of seeing Jane 
 buried deep in thought over a sum. Out she 
 slipped, unnoticed, got the dough face, and came 
 round to the dining-room window, which was 
 long, almost to the floor. 
 
 From the outside she looked in upon the 
 group about the table. They were all quiet and 
 busy, except when Trudge launched out a two- 
 syllabled projectile, when both the quiet and the 
 industry were interrupted. Jane had to pause 
 in the patient addition and subtraction of her 
 fingers, and then go back and do the work all 
 over again. 
 
 Aunt Ann had come in and sat reading a 
 letter. This was not agreeable to Nanny ; but 
 then she stood very little in awe of Aunt Ann. 
 She could see that Jane's forehead had a grave,
 
 236 Heart's Content. 
 
 studious frown upon it, and that she was much 
 absorbed. 
 
 Then she held the dough face before her own, 
 and rubbed it slightly against the glass to call 
 attention to the window. 
 
 Trudge looked up first, and shrieked. Then 
 Jane glanced to the window, and there was the 
 hideous, ghastly face so white and terrible, that 
 she sprang up, and, throwing out her arms gave 
 one weak cr} r , and fell prostrate on the floor. 
 
 Nanny saw her with dismay. She flung the 
 face from her and cried, " Oh, Jane, it's me ! it's 
 me ! " Aunt Ann. whose back was to the win- 
 dow, had seen nothing, but she sprang to lift 
 Jane up as Nanny burst into the room, and Mrs. 
 Lawrence came flying from Totty's cradle to see 
 what had happened. 
 
 " Oh, mother, I did it, I did it," Nanny cried. 
 " I only wanted to frighten her a little ! " 
 
 Aunt Ann lifted Jane in her arms, all white 
 and deathlike, and every atom of color left 
 Nanny's face at the sight. She was sure oh, 
 so horribly sure that Jane was dead, and that 
 she had killed her. 
 
 " Some water, Nanny, quick ! " said her
 
 The Funny Mask. 237 
 
 mother ; but Nanny could not stir. Her heart 
 was like a lump of stone. 
 
 Mrs. Lawrence, still in the dark as to what it 
 all meant, but certain from Nann^^'s agitation 
 that it was some wild prank of hers, got the 
 water herself and dashed it into Jane's face ; but 
 it did not rouse her. Then they put ammonia 
 upon her temples and nostrils, which brought 
 her to consciousness with a shudder. 
 
 Nanny ran away by herself in the dark and 
 moaned and cried. Mars coming in just then, 
 was sent to fetch a doctor. Trudge sat like a 
 little monument, with her fat hands in her little 
 fat lap, and said never a word until after all the 
 panic was over, when she began sobbing gently 
 to herself, and kept it up far into the night. 
 
 As soon as Jane could listen, and could see 
 that her mother was bending over her trying 
 to smile so that she might be reassured Aunt 
 Ann told her that what she saw was only Nanny, 
 who thought it would be a great joke to frighten 
 her ; that she must not be afraid any more, for 
 Nanny felt so very sorry about it. 
 
 But still she shuddered, and looked wildly 
 about her, and it took a long time to calm her.
 
 238 Heart's Content. 
 
 It was an hour, or more, before she spoke, and 
 then her mind seemed confused, for she asked : 
 
 Will they give Nanny a black mark ? " 
 
 Nanny wandered restlessly to and fro between 
 her own room and her mother's, where the 
 shaded lamp showed watching and anxiety. No 
 amount of persuasion could get her to go to 
 bed. 
 
 Mars took occasion to read her a lecture on 
 behavior, which she had not the spirit to 
 resent : 
 
 " Nanny, may be you'll learn some time, after 
 you've made every body all the trouble you can, 
 that you can't always be getting into mischief. 
 I never saw such a girl as you are. You're for- 
 ever running away, or poking into hornet's 
 nests, or climbing trees. Jane never does any- 
 thing. 
 
 " I know it," sobbed Nanny. " I don't see 
 why I act so." 
 
 This disaster was so unexpected, so dreadful. 
 To think she should have hurt her pale little 
 sister, perhaps killed her, when she only meant 
 it in fun, nearly broke her heart. She could 
 not, with all her keen sense of the ludicrous, see
 
 The Funny Mask. 339 
 
 the absurdity of Mars's homily, which at any 
 other time would have called out the full fire of 
 her wit. 
 
 But Jane was not killed ; she was only terribly 
 shocked. Still the results were serious, for a 
 slow form of fever set in, and she lay for many 
 days in a startled wakeful state, terrified at the 
 least noise, and looking about her as if she 
 thought, at any minute, some hideous apparition 
 might appear. Especially was she nervous if 
 all the curtains were not closely drawn at 
 nightfall. 
 
 This was overcome in time, however, and the 
 convalescence was a period which proved that 
 Nanny was not all heedlessness or thoughtless- 
 ness. She explained over and over again to 
 Jane that she was only " in fun," and did not 
 mean to scare her. 
 
 One good was gained, which could hardly 
 have been expected from such a fright Jane 
 never thereafter believed in ghosts. The thing 
 she had felt sure was a ghost, in that one appall- 
 ing moment, had proven to be only Nanny, who 
 certainly had nothing unearthly about her. 
 
 And when, after that, there were noises or
 
 240 Heart's Content. 
 
 sights she could not understand, her suspicions 
 were at once aroused that either Nanny or Mars 
 had something to do with it, and were trying to 
 tease her. 
 
 The lesson was more serious with frolic-loving 
 Nanny, for she sometimes stopped to think, after 
 that, and did not go so headlong into fun as she 
 had been wont. Where she had been oftentimes 
 absolutely cruel in her high health and spirit, 
 she became more moderate, and considerate.
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 THE CHRISTMAS STOCKING. 
 
 " The simple creed 
 Of childood, whether busy or at rest, 
 With new-fledged hope still fluttering in his breast." 
 
 JANE sat knitting rocking and knitting. 
 She made a quaint, old-fashioned picture in 
 her little chair, with her old-fashioned work in 
 her small fingers. Industr} r itself, is somewhat 
 old-fashioned now ; and if to-day you could see 
 her as she was, she might look odd and anti- 
 quated enough. But at that time grandmotherly 
 ways were not 30 rare. 
 
 For many a day lately, knitting had been 
 Jane's great duty and delight. The cold weather 
 241
 
 242 Heart's Content. 
 
 had come ; the ground was frozen hard, and 
 from the gray November sky, already a light 
 sifting of snow had fallen. 
 
 The snow suggested Christmas. To a little 
 mind not much given to close calculation, or to 
 any understanding of exact season or time, the 
 mere fact that at Christmas there was generally 
 snow, brought about the inference that snow 
 must speedily bring Christmas. 
 
 And that will account for Jane's industrious 
 preparation. 
 
 Her fingers were nimble and swift ; and she 
 held, meanwhile, the great, loafing kitten, almost 
 as large as herself, in her lap, and rocked back 
 and forth. She needed but a pair of glasses and 
 a dust of white powder on her hair, to make a 
 small, old woman of her. 
 
 That she was tired there could be no doubt, 
 as now and then a long sigh escaped her ; yet 
 Tom did not heed it, as he liked being hovered 
 and tended. For that reason, he rubbed forth a 
 gentle, sleepy purr whenever she in changing 
 her position moved him ever so little. 
 
 Her work seemed to perplex her, for she fre-
 
 The Christmas Stocking. 243 
 
 quently examined it. What could it be? 
 something for Totty, or possibly for Mars? 
 
 No, I may as well tell it at once. She was 
 knitting a stocking for her cat. 
 
 Nor was this the first one. At the earliest 
 whiff of cold weather, she had taken time by 
 the forelock, and had begun to provide for the 
 inclement season. And this was the fourth 
 stocking, now almost completed. You see, in 
 the matter of numbers, Tom required as many 
 as twins. 
 
 True, his feet and legs were covered with a 
 thick Maltese fur, and he never had coughs and 
 colds from getting them wet, but Jane's heart 
 was quite sore over his going out so poorly clad 
 in wintry weather. So for a Christmas present, 
 she was knitting him some stockings four 
 long white stockings, and the last one was now 
 nearly finished. 
 
 A cat with such a loving little mistress should 
 have been very grateful, but he had never shown 
 even so much as a sniff of curiosity as to her 
 work. Now and then, he had stirred her ball 
 with a playful paw, or had tried to capture her 
 bright needles. This, she thought precociously
 
 244 Heart's Content. 
 
 cunning and intelligent, and would cover his 
 eyes with her hand, and say : 
 
 " Tommy, Tommy, you mustn't look ! " 
 
 It grew quite dark as she took the last stitches 
 in toeing off the last stocking. Her fingers were 
 too tired to have done much more. 
 
 Nanny came tumbling in from her hoydenish 
 run from school, Trudge in active chase, while 
 Mars flung after them such snow as he could 
 gather together, much mixed, however, with 
 dead leaves and sticks. 
 
 Jane could not go to school any more, because 
 she had a cough, which the keen air made worse, 
 So she said her lessons, in a class of one, to 
 Aunt Ann. 
 
 As the noisy flock came trooping in,, bringing 
 a rush of cold and freshness, Jane held up her 
 completed work, and they all gathered round 
 her admiringly. The newly-finished article 
 together with the other three, made quite an 
 array, and they were well-made, and very 
 shapely indeed. 
 
 "Let's try them on!" was Trudge's quick
 
 The Christmas Stocking. 245 
 
 " Oh, no," protested Jane, alarmed, " it's a 
 surprise it's for Christmas." 
 
 " But Christmas is weeks away " cried 
 Nanny, "Tom will catch his death-cold, going 
 barefooted, before that." 
 
 At this juncture, Tom, hearing the rattling of 
 a milk-pail, or some other suggestive sound in 
 the kitchen, bounded from his warm nest and 
 was out of the door in a twinkling. They could 
 hear his plaintive mewing, which had a shame- 
 fully deceptive tone of famine in it, considering 
 his plump ribs, and glossy fur. 
 
 He could not be captured again until after 
 supper, and so the trying on was deferred. 
 
 When the lamps were lighted, and there was 
 a genial wood-fire in the fire-place, the subject 
 recurred again. Jane went out to the kitchen 
 settle, where Tom had curled himself up like a 
 caterpillar to digest his saucer of milk, and she 
 brought him in to the firelight, and sat down 
 with him on the floor. 
 
 He was drowsy and unresisting as usual, and, 
 with little effort, the stockings were soon 
 neatly on. 
 
 He stood still for a minute ; staggered a few
 
 246 Heart's Content. 
 
 steps, and then shook first one hind foot and 
 then the other, leaving two stockings on the 
 floor. But this was not enough ; he lifted one 
 fore-paw with a little quiver, and that stocking 
 was off ! And lazy Tom walked away ! 
 
 Don roared, and Nanny shouted, and Trudge 
 almost went into spasms, and even Totty crowed, 
 but poor Jane, she had tears to hide ; and she 
 sorrowfully gathered up her discarded gifts, 
 smothering a heavy sob, while Tom jumped 
 into the most available easy-chair, and went to 
 sleep. All that work wasted what an un- 
 grateful child ! 
 
 Mars pitied Jane, and so sought for a crumb 
 of comfort out of this bitter bread of ingrati- 
 tude. 
 
 "I say, Janey," he called, as he saw her mak- 
 ing believe to busy herself in a shady corner 
 of the room, where in truth she had retreated 
 so that her face could not be seen "I say, 
 Janey, you can hang up those stockings for 
 your dolls on Christmas Eve ! " 
 
 That was a stroke of genius ; it brought her 
 out from the shadow with a face full of light. 
 
 " Oh, yes ! " she cried, joyfully ; " one for
 
 The Christmas Stocking. 247 
 
 Rose, one for Neida, one for Juliet, and one 
 for Tom ! If he won't wear the stockings, he 
 shall have one to hang for Santa Glaus, and 
 maybe he'll get a mouse in it he loves mice." 
 
 This reconciled Jane to her failure; but the 
 word Santa Glaus opened a discussion which 
 grew so warm as it progressed, that it had to 
 be referred to the heads of the family for 
 settlement. 
 
 Santa Glaus ! " said Don, with an air of 
 superior wisdom, and with something of a sneer, 
 " there is no Santa Glaus ! " 
 
 " Yes, there is ! " said Trudge, instantly, and 
 with energy. " Yes, there is ! " 
 
 Nanny, who, since Don was getting ready for 
 college, believed at heart that he was infallible, 
 though she was not willing to concede so much 
 in her manner, had her curiosity aroused by 
 this bold assertion, and asked : 
 
 "Why isn't there, Don? and how do you 
 know?" 
 
 "Why, I know there isn't 1" he answered, 
 "You hang your stockings round the chimney, 
 and father and mother fill them." 
 
 " O-o-o-oh ! " said Trudge, with wide eyes,
 
 2-J8 Heart's Content. 
 
 shocked at such heresy. " Oh, Don, that's a 
 story ! " 
 
 " It isn't a story, either, Dumpling ; go and 
 ask them yourself." 
 
 Mars had not spoken as yet, but he was suf- 
 ficiently primed, and' exploded now, a full 
 volley. 
 
 " Don Lawrence, there is a Santa Glaus, and 
 you know it ! Last winter don't you remember 
 how in the morning we found his big track 
 in the ashes on the hearth ? It -was a awful 
 track " 
 
 " A awful ! " interrupted Don, laughing. 
 
 " Yes, a awful track, bigger 'n bigger 'n 
 you could make ! " 
 
 " Well, master Mars, that truth don't prove 
 anything," said Don, with the utmost coolness. 
 
 "Don't prove anything? it proves every 
 thing ! Santa Glaus came down the chimley 
 (Mars had never heard of Sairey Gamp, but 
 he followed her authority in the pronunciation 
 of this word) and he stepped in the ashes, 
 and made that track with his foot ; and don't 
 that prove there is a Santa Glaus ? I'd like to
 
 The Christmas Stocking. 249 
 
 know, mister Don, who else could come down 
 the chimley but him, and how a track could 
 be made without a foot ! " 
 
 " Oh, Mars," groaned Don, " ' chimley ! ' 4 who 
 else it was but him ' ! Your grammar is as bad 
 as your temper ! " 
 
 Jane, foreseeing battle, stepped boldly to the 
 front. 
 
 " I guess if you'd read about the tiny rein- 
 deer, as I have, Don, you wouldn't talk so. I 
 know there is a Santa Glaus, for he brought 
 Rose!" 
 
 " There!'* exclaimed Mars, triumphantly. 
 " Jane knows it, and Trudge knows it, and 1 
 know it ; and there is a Santa Claus ! " 
 
 " That footprint," pursued Don, delighting to 
 tease, " was one father made, just to play a 
 trick on you small fry. By the time that you 
 get ready to go to college, Mars, you'll know 
 the difference between a fable and a fact." 
 
 Aunt Ann appeared in the doorway with 
 knitting-work and book. They all assailed 
 her at once " Is there a Santa Claus ? " from 
 Don ; and, " isn't there a Santa Claus ? " from 
 the rest.
 
 250 Heart's Content. 
 
 Now, Aunt Ann's tireless fingers had been 
 for some time at work on various bright articles 
 a scarlet scarf for Nanny ; a warm hood of 
 the same color for Trudge ; a blue one for Jane, 
 some gay mittens for Mars, and some wristlets 
 for Don. These things were to be finished for 
 Christmas, and were to be a part of Santa 
 Glaus packet. So how was she to answer these 
 untimely and imperative questions ? She evaded 
 them a little, that she might gain time. 
 
 " Why," she said, with a gesture, as if dis- 
 tracted, " you all talk together ! Sit down, if 
 you wish me to answer- you; and be reason- 
 able." 
 
 They gathered around her. 
 
 "Now," she said, "what is it? One at a 
 time." 
 
 Don was spokesman. 
 
 " Is there, really and truly, any such man as 
 Santa Glaus ? " 
 
 " To answer that, Don, I will suppose a case. 
 Suppose a certain boy I know, who is rather 
 inclined to scepticism, were willing to prove 
 his disbelief by not hanging any stocking on
 
 The Christmas Stocking. 251 
 
 Christmas Eve, and by staying away from the 
 Sunday-school Christmas Tree." 
 
 " Oh dear," said Don, with a shrewd laugh, 
 " if you mean me, I won't do anything of the 
 kind." 
 
 "But," she said, "you interrupt me. I 
 haven't half finished. I was going to say if 
 such a boy could be found, we people who love 
 Santa Claus would be willing to give his doubt 
 a reasonable attention." 
 
 " He knows there's one ; he knows there's 
 one ! " interposed Mars, with glee. 
 
 "If such a boy can be found? Not here, 
 I assure you," said Don, pointing to himself. 
 " No matter what I believe or know. I intend 
 to hang my stocking, all the same, and to go 
 to the tree at the church, besides. 
 
 " Well," said Aunt Ann, " it is too pleasant 
 a subject to quarrel about. I am sure when 
 the time comes, we shall all enjoy it." 
 
 Upon this they were one and all agreed; 
 and in cosy conclave they fell to speculating, 
 and hoping, and planning^ seeing rosy visions 
 of a winter's dawn, still many weeks distant, 
 which should be the brightest in all the year.
 
 2,52 Heart's Content. 
 
 And now we leave, in the home firelight of 
 Heart's Content, with the happy subject upon 
 their lips, They Who Lived There. 
 
 Many Christmases have come and gone since 
 then, and another one approaches. 
 
 Who knows but some of those children s 
 children may find as their gift from Santa 
 Glaus in whom their father did not believe 
 this story ?
 
 THE NORTHERN CROSS. By Willis Boyd Allen. 
 111. Pine Cone Series. Boston : D. Lothrop Com- 
 pany. Price $1.00. In this breezy and thoroughly 
 healthy story of a boy's life at school the author 
 proves his right to a foremost place among the 
 writers of juvenile literature in this country. 
 The story is local, ttr- jcene being laid in and about 
 the Boston Latin School, from which institution 
 the author was a graduate. It is, in fact, largely 
 a record of his own experiences, and some of his 
 descriptions of characters and incidents are as ac- 
 curate as photographs. "We are glad that he has 
 put down that prince of schoolmasters, Dr. Francis 
 Gardner, " in his habit as he lived," so that future 
 generations of Latin School boys will know some- 
 thing of his personality ; and so with Mr. Emer- 
 son, whose reputation as aleacher and gentleman 
 was equal to that of Dr. Gardner himself. We 
 dare say many of the classmates of the author 
 wil! -ecognize many of the funny incidents which 
 make up a portion of the narrative, as well as the 
 actors in them. Exhibition day, the prize drill on 
 the Common and scenes in the schoolroom are de- 
 scribed with infinite relish, and there isn't a boy 
 anywhere with a bit of boy feeling about him that 
 will not enjoy the book from cover to cover. It 
 forms one of the Pine Cone series, and readers of 
 the preceding volumes will find some old acquaint- 
 ances in its pages.
 
 KELP. By Willis Boyd Allen. Pine Cone Series. 
 Boston : D. Lothrop Co. Price $1.00. Mr. Allen 
 has never written a more delightful story than 
 this, the fourth volume in the famous Pine Cone 
 Series. It takes a jolly party of young campers 
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 fortnight, and describes the various ways in which 
 the members enjoy themselves during that happy 
 time. The first day is spent at the Appledore 
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 camped on Star Island, the girls in the one soli- 
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 cleared up for them, and the boys in their tent. 
 They are all old friends of the reader, Tom and 
 Bess Percival, Pet Siblcy, Bert and Susie Martin 
 and Nan Burton, all of whom have played parts in 
 the preceding volumes of the series. They crowd 
 Into these two weeks an amount of enjoyment 
 possible only to young people of sound healtt, 
 perfect freedom from care, and who are in per- 
 fect sympathy and harmony with one anothei 
 Appledore, where the older members of the Perci- 
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 it. The author must have himself gone through 
 pome of the experiences he describes, to have 
 painted them so accurately and vividly. The story 
 IB capitally illustrated.
 
 TILTING AT Wnn>MiLLS ! A Story of the Bloa 
 Grass Country. By Emma M. Connelly. Boston : 
 D. Lothrop Company. 12rao, $1.50. 
 
 NOT since the days of il A Fool's Errand " has so 
 strong and so characteristic a " border novel " been 
 brought to the attention of the public as is now 
 presented by Miss Connelly in this book which she 
 BO aptly terms " Tilting at Windmills." Indeed, it 
 is questionable whether Judge Tourgee's famous 
 book touched so deftly and yet so practically the 
 Teal phases of the reconstruction period and the 
 interminable antagonisms of race and section. 
 
 The self-sufficient Boston man, a capital fellow 
 at heait, but tinged with the traditions and envi- 
 ronments of his Puritan ancestry and condition!, 
 coming into his strange heritage in Kentucky at 
 the close of the civil war, seeks to change by in- 
 stant .nanipulation all the equally strong and deep- 
 rooted traditions and environments of Blue Grass 
 society. 
 
 His ruthless conscience will allow of no com- 
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 lyte alike misunderstand his motives and spurn his 
 proffered assistance. 
 
 Presumed errors are materialized and partial 
 evils are magnified. Allerton tilts at windmills 
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 seemingly, unhorsed in every encounter. 
 
 Miss Connelly's work in this, her first novel, will 
 make readers anxious to hear from her again and 
 it will certainly create, both in her own and other 
 States, a strong desire to see her next forthcoming 
 work announced by the same publishers in one of 
 their new series her " Story of the State of Ken- 
 tucky."
 
 MONTEAGLE. By Tansy. Boston: D. Lothrop 
 Company. Price 75 cents. Moth girls and boys 
 will find this story <rf Pansy's pleasant and profit- 
 able reading. Dilly West is a character whom the 
 first will find it an excellent tiling to intimate, and 
 boys will find in Hart Hammond a noble, manly, 
 fellow who walks for a time dangerously near 
 temptation, but escapes through providential in- 
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 devotion to duty of the young girl, who becomes 
 an unconscious power of good. 
 
 A DOZEN OF THEM. By Pansy. Boston : D. 
 Lothrop Company. Price 60 cents. A Sunday- 
 school story, written i 7 " Pansy's best vein, and 
 having for its hero a twelve-year-old boy who has 
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 occupied in the milliner's shop where sht is em- 
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 It is a task at first, but he is a boy of his word, 
 and he fulfills his promise, with what results the 
 reader of the story will find out. It is an excellent 
 book for the Sunday-school. 
 
 AT HOME AND ABKOAD. Stories from The Pany 
 Boston: 1). Lothrop Company. Price, $1.00. A 
 score of short stories which originally appeared 
 In the delightful magazine, The l-ansy. have been 
 here brought together in collected form with the 
 Illustrations which originally accompanied them. 
 They are from the pens of various authors, and 
 tffe bright, instructive and entertaining.
 
 A QUKKU LITTLE PKIN-CKSS. By Frances Eaton. 
 111. Boston : I"). Lothrop Co. Price SI. 50. This 
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 and ingenuous, a counterpart in character to ''lit- 
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 THE ART OF LIVING. From the Writings of 
 Samuel Smihs. With Introduction by the ven- 
 erable Dr. leabody of Harvard University, and 
 Biographical Sketch by the editor, Carrie Adelaide 
 Cooke. Bos oil : D. Lothrop Company. Price 
 01-00. 
 
 Samuel Sn iles is the Benjamin Franklin of Eng- 
 land. His sayings have a similar terseness, apt- 
 ness and forc^ ; they are directed to practical ends, 
 like Franklin s ; they have the advantage of being 
 nearer our tine and therefore more directly related 
 to subjects ipon which practical wisdom is of 
 practical ust 
 
 Success in life is his subject all through, The Art 
 of Living; a; d he confesses on the very first page 
 that "happiness consists in the enjoyment of little 
 pleasures sea tered along the common path of life, 
 which in the eager search for some great and ex- 
 citing joy we are apt to overlook. It finds delight 
 in the perf 01 mance of common duties faithfully 
 and honorably fulfilled." 
 
 Let the reac er go back to that quotation again and 
 consider ho\v contrary it is to the spirit that under- 
 lies the busim ses that are nowadays tempting meii 
 to sudden for tune, torturing with disappointments 
 nearly all wh> > yield, and burdening the successful 
 beyond their endurance, shortening lives and mak- 
 ing them wea ry and most of them empty. 
 
 Is it worth while to join the mad rush for the 
 lottery ; or tx; take the old road to slow success ? 
 
 This book of the chosen thoughts of a rare phil- 
 osopher leads to contentment as well as wisdom ; 
 for, when we choose the less brilliant course be- 
 cause we are $ure it is the best one, we have th 
 most complete and lasting repose from anxiety.
 
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