[Illustration:  “Now, Henry, don’t ever have anything to do with that kind of trash again.”]

Bud examined his toes carefully, and replied, “No ’m.”

In the threshold she put her hand on the boy’s shoulder, and continued:  “Now, don’t you mind about it, Henry.  They sha’n’t touch you.  You come and wash, and we’ll have supper.”

When a boy has a woman for a champion, if he is wise, he trusts her to any length.  So Bud went to the kitchen, picked up the water-bucket, and went to the well, partly to keep from displaying a gathering wave of affection for his foster-mother, and partly to let the magnificence of the wood-box burst upon her in his absence.  When he returned, he found Miss Morgan pointing toward the wood-box and beaming upon him.  Bud grinned, and fished in his pocket for the coin.

[Illustration:  “Here’s a dollar I got for ridin’ the trick mule....  I thought it would be nice for the missionary society.”]

“Here’s a dollar I got for ridin’ the trick mule,” he faltered.  “I thought it would be nice for the missionary society.”  That he might check any weak feminine emotions, he turned his attention to the supper-table, and blurted:  “Gee, we’re goin’ to have pie, ain’t we?  I tell you, I’m mighty pie hungry.”

[Illustration:  “Gee, we’re going to have pie, ain’t we.”]

The glow of Miss Morgan’s melted heart shone upon her face.  Through a seraphic smile she spoke:  “It’s apple pie, too, Henry—­your kind.”  As she put the supper upon the table, she asked:  “Did you have a good time at the circus, Henry?”

The boy nodded vehemently, and said:  “You bet!” and then went on, after a pause, “I guess I tore my pants a little gettin’ off of that mule; but I thought you’d like the dollar.”

It was the finest speech he could make.  “I guess I can mend them, Henry,” she answered; and then she asked, with her face in the cupboard, “Sha’n’t we try some of the new strawberry preserves, Henry?”

As she was opening the jar she concluded that Henry Perkins was an angel—­a conclusion which, in view of the well-known facts, was manifestly absurd.

[Illustration]

“THE HERB CALLED HEARTS-EASE”

Did you hear him?  I dare say that boy lives a merrier life and wears more of the herb called hearts-ease in his bosom than he that is clad in silk and velvet.—­From the Observations of “Mr. Great Heart.”

It was dusk in Boyville.  The boys at a game of hide-and-seek filled the air with their calls: 

“Bushel of wheat, and a
Bushel of rye—­
All t’ ain’t ready
Holler aye. 
All in ten feet of my base is caught:  All eyes open.”

Or

“One—­two—­three for me.”

Or

“All’s out’s in free.”