Having made his complaint, Godfrey waited impatiently for the recess to close, in order that he might see retribution fall upon the head of Andy. He had not long to wait. Meanwhile, however, he was missed in the playground.
"Where's Godfrey?" asked one of the boys.
"He don't want to come out. He got a licking from Andy Burke."
"I ain't much sorry. It'll cure him of some of his airs."
"I don't know about that. It comes natural to him to put on airs."
"If anybody has insulted Godfrey," remarked Ben Travers, his toady, "he had better look out for himself."
"Do you hear that, Andy? Ben Travers says you must look out for yourself."
"Who's goin' to punish me?" asked Andy. "If it's Ben, let him come on."
But Ben showed no disposition to "come on." He could talk and threaten, but when words were to be succeeded by blows he never was on hand. In fact he was a coward, and ought to have kept quiet, but it is just that class that are usually most noisy.
Andy had no idea that Godfrey would complain to the teacher in a matter where he was so clearly in the wrong, nor would he if he had not relied upon his father's position to carry him through.
"Mr. Stone is a poor man," he thought, "and he won't dare to take the part of a low Irish boy against the only son and heir of Colonel Preston. He knows on which side his bread is buttered, and he won't be such a fool as to offend my father."
While he said this he knew that it was very doubtful whether his father would espouse his cause, but then Mr. Stone would probably suppose he would, which would answer the same purpose on the present occasion.
When Andy re-entered the schoolroom with the rest of the boys at the termination of recess, he saw Godfrey in his seat. The latter darted at him a glance of malicious triumph.
When the noise of entering was over, Mr. Stone said:
"Andrew Burke, come forward!"
Considerably surprised, Andy came forward, and looked up with a modest self-possession into the teacher's face.
"A complaint has been entered against you, Andrew," Mr. Stone began.
"What is it, sir?" asked Andy.
"You are charged by Godfrey Preston with violently assaulting and throwing him down, just before school commenced. Is this true?"
"Yes, sir," answered Andy, promptly.
"You are charged with kneeling down upon him, and preventing his getting up."
"That is true," said Andy, quite composedly.
"I am surprised that you should have acted in this manner," said Mr. Stone. "I did not think you quarrelsome or a bully."
"I hope I am not," said Andy. "Did Godfrey tell you why I knocked him over?"
"He said it was because he would not associate with you."
Andy laughed.
"I hope you'll excuse my laughing, sir," he said, respectfully; "but I'd rather associate with any of the boys than with Godfrey. I like him least of all."
"Then, that is the reason you attacked him, is it?"
"No, sir."
"Then, what was it?"
"If you don't mind, sir, I'd like to have you ask Alfred Parker."
"Alfred Parker," called out the teacher, "come forward."
Alfred obeyed.
"Do you know why Andrew attacked Godfrey Preston?"
"Yes, sir; it was on my account."
"On your account! Explain."
"This morning, before school, I was playing with another boy, and accidentally ran into Godfrey. He got mad, and threw me over violently. Then he pressed his knee on my breast till I could hardly breathe. I begged him to let me up, but he would not, though he knew that it was only an accident. While I was lying on the ground, Andy Burke came up. He no sooner saw me than he ran up, and threw Godfrey off, and got on him in the same manner, and I think he served him right."
As he uttered these last words, Godfrey scowled ominously, but Andy's face brightened up. He was glad that Alfred was brave enough to speak up for him.
"This alters the case considerably," said the teacher. "Is there any other boy who witnessed the affair, and can substantiate what has been said? If so, let him raise his hand."
Herman Reynolds raised his hand.
"Well, Herman, what do you know about it? Were you present?"
"Yes, sir, I was. It was just as Alfred said it was."
"What have you to say, Godfrey?" asked Mr. Stone, sternly.
"I don't mean to be insulted by an Irish boy," said Godfrey, haughtily.
"Remember where you are, sir, and speak in a more becoming manner. Did you attack Alfred Parker, as he says?"
"He had no business to run into me."
"Answer my question."
"Yes, I did."
"And did you kneel on his breast?"
"Yes."
"Oblige me by saying, 'Yes, sir.'"
"Yes, sir," said Godfrey, reluctantly.
"Why do you complain, then, of being treated in a similar manner by Andrew?"
"He has no business to touch me."
"If he had not interfered when he saw you maltreating his young schoolfellow, I should have been ashamed of him," said the teacher.
This so far chimed in with the sentiment of the boys that they almost involuntarily applauded; and one boy, arising, exclaimed:
"Three cheers for the teacher!"
The three cheers were given with a will, and, though they were, strictly speaking, out of order, Mr. Stone was a sensible man, and the only notice he took of it was to say:
"Thank you, boys. I am glad to find that you agree with me on this point, and that your sympathies are with the weak and oppressed. Godfrey Preston, your complaint is dismissed. I advise you to cease acting the part of a bully, or you may get another similar lesson. Andrew, when you exert your strength, I hope it will always be in as just a cause. You may take your seat, and you also, Alfred."
The boys would have applauded again, but Mr. Stone said, waving his hand:
"Once is enough, boys. Time is precious, and we must now go on with our lessons. First class in arithmetic."
Godfrey had been equally surprised and angry at the turn that affairs had taken. He was boiling with indignation, and nervously moved about in his seat. After a slight pause, having apparently taken his determination, he took his cap, and walked toward the door.
Mr. Stone's attention was drawn to him.
"Where are you going, Godfrey?" he demanded, quickly.
"Home," said Godfrey.
"You will wait till the end of school."
"I would rather not, sir."
"It makes no difference what you would rather do, or rather not do. Are you sick?"
"No, sir."
"Then you have no good cause for leaving, and I shall not permit you to do so."
"I have been insulted, sir, and I don't wish to stay."
"By whom?" demanded the teacher, sharply.
Godfrey would like to have said, "By you," but he saw the teacher's keen eye fixed upon him, and he didn't dare to do it. He hesitated.
"By whom?" repeated Mr. Stone.
"By Andrew Burke."
"That is no good reason for your leaving school, or would not be, if it were true, but it is not. He has only meted out to you the same punishment you undertook to inflict upon a smaller boy. Take your seat."
"My father will take me away from school," said Godfrey, angrily.
"We shall none of us mourn for your absence. Take your seat."
This last remark of the teacher still further incensed Godfrey, and led him temporarily to forget himself. Though he had been bidden to take his seat, he resolved to leave the schoolroom, and made a rush for the door. But Mr. Stone was there before him. He seized Godfrey by the collar and dragged him, shaking him as he proceeded, to his seat, on which he placed him with some emphasis.
"That is the way I treat rebels," he said. "You forget yourself, Preston. The next time you make up your mind to resist my commands, count in advance on a much severer lesson."
Godfrey was pale with passion, and his hands twitched convulsively. He only wished he had Mr. Stone in his power for five minutes. He would treat him worse than he did Alfred Parker. But a boy in a passion is not a very pleasant spectacle. It is enough to say that Godfrey was compelled to stay in school for the remainder of the forenoon. As soon as he could get away, he ran home, determined to enlist his mother in his cause.
At home Godfrey gave a highly colored narrative of the outrageous manner in which he had been abused, for so he chose to represent it. He gave this account to his mother, for his father was not at home. Indeed, he was absent for a day or two in a distant city.
Mrs. Preston was indignant.
"It is an outrage, Godfrey," she said, compressing her thin lips. "How did Mr. Stone dare to treat you in this way?"
"I was surprised, myself," said Godfrey.
"Had he no more respect for your father's prominent position?"
"It looks as if he didn't."
"He is evidently unfit to keep the school. I shall try to persuade your father to have him turned away."
"I wish he might be," said Godfrey. "It would teach him to treat me with proper respect. Anybody would think that Irish boy was the son of the most important man in town."
Both Godfrey and his mother appeared to take it for granted that a teacher should treat his pupils according to their social position. This is certainly very far from proper, as all my youthful readers will, I hope, agree.
"I don't want to go back to school this afternoon, mother," said Godfrey.
"I don't wonder," said his mother. "I will tell you what I will do. I will send a letter to Mr. Stone by you, asking him to call here this evening. I will then take occasion to express my opinion of his conduct."
"That's good, mother," said Godfrey, joyfully.
He knew that his mother had a sharp tongue, and he longed to hear his mother "give it" to the teacher whom he hated.
"Then, you think I had better go to school this afternoon?"
"Yes, with the note. If Mr. Stone does not apologize, you need not go to-morrow. I will go upstairs and write it at once."
The note was quickly written, and, putting it carefully in his inside pocket, Godfrey went to school. As he entered the schoolroom he stepped up to the desk and handed the note to Mr. Stone.
"Here is a note from my mother," he said, superciliously.
"Very well," said the teacher, taking it gravely.
As it was not quite time to summon the pupils, he opened it at once.
This was what he read:
"Preston," said Mr. Stone, after reading this note, "you may say to your mother that I will call this evening."
He did not appear in the least disturbed by the contents of the note he had received from the richest and—in her own eyes—the most important lady in the village. In fact, he had a large share of self-respect and independence, and was not likely to submit to browbeating from anyone. He tried to be just in his treatment of the scholars under his charge, and if he ever failed, it was from misunderstanding or ignorance, not from design. In the present instance he felt that he had done right, and resolved to maintain the justice of his conduct.
Nothing of importance occurred in the afternoon. Godfrey was very quiet and orderly. He felt that he could afford to wait. With malicious joy, he looked forward to the scolding Mr. Stone was to get from his mother.
"He won't dare to talk to her," he said to himself. "I hope she'll make him apologize to me. He ought to do it before the school."
Evidently Godfrey had a very inadequate idea of the teacher's pluck, if he thought such a thing possible.
School was dismissed, and Godfrey went home. He dropped a hint to Ben Travers, that his mother was going "to haul Mr. Stone over the coals," as he expressed it.
"Are you going to be there?" asked Ben, when Godfrey had finished.
"Yes," said Godfrey. "It'll be my turn then."
"Perhaps Mr. Stone will have something to say," said Ben, doubtfully.
"He won't dare to," said Godfrey, confidently. "He knows my father could get him kicked out of school."
"He's rather spunky, the master is," said Ben, who, toady as he was, understood the character of Mr. Stone considerably better than Godfrey did.
"I'll tell you all about it to-morrow morning," said Godfrey.
"All right."
"I expect he'll apologize to me for what he did."
"Maybe he will," answered Ben, but he thought it highly improbable.
"Did you give my note to Mr. Stone?" asked his mother.
"Yes."
"What did he say?"
"He said he'd come around."
"How did he appear?"
"He looked a little nervous," said Godfrey, speaking not according to facts, but according to his wishes.
"I thought so," said Mrs. Preston, with a look of satisfaction. "He will find that he has made a mistake in treating you so outrageously."
"Give it to him right and left, mother," said Godfrey, with more force than elegance.
"You might express yourself more properly, my son," said Mrs. Preston. "I shall endeavor to impress upon his mind the impropriety of his conduct."
At half-past seven, Mr. Stone rang the bell at Mrs. Preston's door, and was ushered in without delay.
"Good-evening, Mrs. Preston," he said, bowing. "Your son brought me a note this afternoon, requesting me to call. I have complied with your request."
"Be seated, Mr. Stone," said the lady frigidly, not offering her hand.
"Thank you," said the teacher, with equal ceremony, and did as invited.
"I suppose you can guess the object of my request," said Mrs. Preston.
"I think you stated it in your note."
"I desire an explanation of the manner in which you treated my son this forenoon, Mr. Stone."
"Pardon me, madam; your son is in the room."
"Well, sir?"
"I decline discussing the matter before him."
"I cannot understand why you should object to his presence."
"I am his teacher, and he is subject to my authority. You apparently desire to find fault with the manner in which I have exercised that authority. It is improper that the discussion upon this point should take place before him."
"May I stay in the room, mother?" asked Godfrey, who was alarmed lest he should miss the spectacle of Mr. Stone's humiliation.
"I really don't see why not," returned his mother.
"Madam," said Mr. Stone, rising, "I will bid you good-evening."
"What, sir; before we have spoken on the subject?"
"I distinctly decline to speak before your son, for the reasons already given."
"This is very singular, sir. However, I will humor your whims. Godfrey, you may leave the room."
"Can't I stay?"
"I am compelled to send you out."
Godfrey went out, though with a very ill grace.
"Now, madam," said the teacher, "I have no objection to telling you that I first reprimanded your son for brutal treatment of a younger schoolmate, and then forcibly carried him back to his seat, when he endeavored to leave the schoolroom without my permission."
It was Mrs. Preston's turn to be surprised. She had expected to overawe the teacher, and instead of that found him firmly and independently defending his course.
"Mr. Stone," she said, "my son tells me that you praised an Irish boy in your school for a violent and brutal assault which he made upon him."
"I did not praise him for that. I praised him for promptly interfering to prevent Godfrey from abusing a boy smaller and younger than himself."
"Godfrey had good cause for punishing the boy you refer to. He acted in self-defense."
"He has doubtless misrepresented the affair to you, madam, as he did to me."
"You take this Andrew Burke's word against his?"
"I form my judgment upon the testimony of an eyewitness, and from what I know of your son's character."
"From your own statement, this low Irish boy——"
"To whom do you refer, madam?"
"To the Irish boy."
"I have yet to learn that he is low."
"Do you mean to compare him with my son?"
"In wealth, no. Otherwise, you mustn't blame me for saying that I hold him entirely equal in respectability, and in some important points his superior."
"Really, sir, your language is most extraordinary."
At this moment there was an interruption. Godfrey had been listening at the keyhole, but finding that difficult, had opened the door slightly, but in his interest managed to stumble against it. The door flew open, and he fell forward upon his knees on the carpet of the sitting-room.
Godfrey rose to his feet, red with mortification. His mother looked disconcerted. Mr. Stone said nothing, but glanced significantly from Godfrey to Mrs. Preston.
"What is the matter, Godfrey?" she asked, rather sharply.
"It was an accident," said Godfrey, rather sheepishly.
"You can go out and shut the door, and take care not to let such an accident happen again. For some unknown reason, Mr. Stone prefers that you should not be present, and, therefore, you must go."
For once, Godfrey found nothing to say, but withdrew in silence.
"You appear to have formed a prejudice against Godfrey, Mr. Stone," said Mrs. Preston.
"I may have formed an unfavorable judgment of him on some points," said the teacher. "I judge of him by his conduct."
"To say that Andrew Burke is his superior is insulting to him and his family, as well as ludicrous."
"I beg pardon, Mrs. Preston, but I must dissent from both your statements. Andrew Burke possesses some excellent qualities in which Godfrey is deficient."
"He is a poor working boy."
"He is none the worse for that."
"He should remember his position, and treat my son with proper respect."
"I venture to say that Godfrey will receive all the respect to which he is entitled. May I ask if you expect him to be treated with deference, because his father is richer than those of the other boys?"
"It seems to me only proper."
"Do you expect me to treat him any better on that account?"
"I think my son's social position should command respect."
"Then, Mrs. Preston, I entirely disagree with you," said Mr. Stone, firmly. "As a teacher, I have nothing whatever to do with the social position of the children who come to me as pupils. From me a poor boy will receive the same instruction, and the same treatment precisely as the son of rich parents. If he behaves as he should, he will always find in me a friend, as well as a teacher. Your son Godfrey shall have no just complaint to make of my treatment. I will give him credit for good conduct and faithful study, but no more than to Andrew Burke, or to any other pupil under the same circumstances."
"Mr. Stone, I am surprised at your singular style of talking. You wish to do away with all social distinctions."
"I certainly do, madam, in my schoolroom, at least. There must be social differences, I am aware. We cannot all be equally rich or honored, but whatever may be the world's rule, I mean to maintain strict impartiality in my schoolroom."
"Will you require Andy Burke to apologize to Godfrey?"
"Why should I?"
"For his violent assault upon him."
"Certainly not. He was justified in his conduct."
"If my son was doing wrong, the Irish boy, instead of interfering, should have waited till you came, and then reported the matter to you."
"And, meanwhile, stood by and seen Alfred Parker inhumanly treated?"
"I presume the matter has been greatly exaggerated."
"I do not, madam."
"Do I understand that you decline to make reparation to my son?"
"Reparation for what?"
"For the manner in which he has been treated."
"I must have talked to little purpose, if I have not made it clear that your son has only received his deserts. Of course, he is entitled to no reparation, as you term it."
"Then, Mr. Stone," said Mrs. Preston, her thin lips compressed with indignation, "since Godfrey cannot meet with fair treatment, I shall be compelled to withdraw him from your school."
"That must be as you please, madam," said the teacher, quite unmoved by the threatened withdrawal of his richest pupil.
"I shall report to Colonel Preston your treatment of his son."
"I have no objection, madam."
"You are pursuing a very unwise course in alienating your wealthiest patrons."
"I have no patrons, madam," said Mr. Stone, proudly. "I return faithful service for the moderate wages I receive, and the obligation, if there is any, is on the part of those whose children I instruct."
"Really," thought Mrs. Preston, "this man is very independent for a poor teacher."
She resolved upon another shot, not in the best of taste.
"You must not be surprised, Mr. Stone," she said, "if the school trustees refuse to employ you again."
"You mistake me utterly," said the teacher, with dignity, "if you suppose that any such threat or consideration will make me swerve from my duty. However, though I did not propose to mention it, I will state that this is the last term I shall teach in this village. I have been engaged at double the salary in a neighboring city."
Mrs. Preston was disappointed to hear this. It was certainly vexatious that the man who had treated her son with so little consideration, who had actually taken the part of a working boy against him, should be promoted to a better situation. She had thought to make him feel that he was in her power, but she now saw that her anticipations were not to be realized.
As she did not speak, Mr. Stone considered the interview closed, and rose.
"Good-evening, Mrs. Preston," he said.
"Good-evening, sir," she responded, coldly.
He bowed and withdrew.
When Godfrey, who was not far off, though he had not thought it best to play the part of eavesdropper again, heard the door close, he hurried into the room.
"Well, mother, what did he say?" he inquired, eagerly.
"He obstinately refused to make any reparation to you."
"Did you tell him what you thought of his treatment of me?" said Godfrey, rather surprised that his mother's remonstrance had produced no greater effect.
"Yes, I expressed my opinion very plainly. I must say that he's a very impudent man. The idea of a poor teacher putting on such airs!" continued Mrs. Preston, tossing her head.
"What did he say?"
"That that Irish boy was superior to you."
"I'd like to knock him over," said Godfrey, wrathfully.
Mrs. Preston was a lady, and it is not to be supposed that she should join in her son's wish. Still, it did not occur to her that she should mourn very much if Mr. Stone met with a reverse. She would like to see his pride humbled, not reflecting that her own was greater and less justifiable.
"You ought to have told him that he would lose his school," said Godfrey. "That would have frightened him, for he is a poor man, and depends on the money he gets for teaching."
"He is not going to teach here after this term."
"Good! Did he tell you that?"
"Yes."
"He is afraid of me, after all."
"You are mistaken, Godfrey. He is offered considerably higher pay in another place."
Godfrey's countenance fell. It was as disagreeable to him as to his mother to learn that Mr. Stone was to be promoted in his profession.
"Shall I have to go to school again, mother?" he asked, after a pause.
"No," said Mrs. Preston, with energy. "Upon that I have determined. While Mr. Stone is teacher, you shall not go back. I will take care to let it be known in the neighborhood why I keep you at home. I hope the next teacher will be a man who understands the respect due to social position. I don't care to have you put on an equality with such boys as Andrew Burke. He is no fit associate for you."
"That is what I think, mother," said Godfrey. "The low beggar! I'd like to come up with him. Perhaps, I shall have a chance some day."
When Colonel Preston returned home, the whole story was told to him; but, colored though it was, he guessed how matters actually stood, and was far from becoming his son's partisan. He privately went to Mr. Stone and obtained his version of the affair.
"You did right, Mr. Stone," he said, at the end. "If my son chooses to act the bully, he must take the consequences. Mrs. Preston does not look upon it in the same light, and insists upon my taking Godfrey from school. For the sake of peace, I must do so, but you must not construe it as showing any disapproval on my part of your course in the matter."
"Thank you, Colonel Preston," said the teacher, warmly. "I can only regret Mrs. Preston's displeasure. Your approval I highly value, and it will encourage me in the path of duty."
Godfrey didn't return to school at all. He fancied that it would be more aristocratic to go to a boarding school, and, his mother concurring in this view, he was entered as a scholar at the Melville Academy, situated in Melville, twelve miles distant. Once a fortnight he came home to spend the Sunday. On these occasions he flourished about with a tiny cane, and put on more airs than ever. No one missed him much, outside of his own family. Andy found the school considerably more agreeable after his departure.
We will now suppose twelve months to have passed. During this time Andy has grown considerably, and is now quite a stout boy. He has improved also in education. The Misses Grant, taking a kind interest in his progress, managed to spare him half the day in succeeding terms, so that he continued to attend school. Knowing that he had but three hours to learn, when the others had six, he was all the more diligent, and was quite up to the average standard for boys of his age. The fact is, Andy was an observing boy, and he realized that education was essential to success in life. Mr. Stone, before going away, talked with him on this subject and gave him some advice, which Andy determined to follow.
As may be inferred from what I have said, Andy was still working for the Misses Grant. He had grown accustomed to their ways, and succeeded in giving them perfect satisfaction, and accomplished quite as much work as John, his predecessor, though the latter was a man.
As Christmas approached, Miss Priscilla said one day to her sister:
"Don't you think, Sophia, it would be well to give Andrew a Christmas present?"
"Just so," returned Sophia, approvingly.
"He has been very faithful and obliging all the time he has been with us."
"Just so."
"I have been thinking what would be a good thing to give him."
"A pair of spectacles," suggested Sophia, rather absent-mindedly.
"Sophia, you are a goose."
"Just so," acquiesced her sister, meekly.
"Such a gift would be very inappropriate."
"Just so."
"A pair of boots," was the next suggestion.
"That would be better. Boots would be very useful, but I think it would be well to give him something that would contribute to his amusement. Of course, we must consult his taste, and not out own. We are not boys."
"Just so," said Sophia, promptly. "And he is not a lady," she added, enlarging upon the idea.
"Of course not. Now, the question is, what do boys like?"
"Just so," said Sophia, but this admission did not throw much light upon the character of the present to be bought.
Just then Andy himself helped them to a decision. He entered, cap in hand, and said:
"If you can spare me, Miss Grant, I would like to go skating on the pond."
"Have you a pair of skates, Andrew?"
"No, ma'am," said Andy; "but one of the boys will lend me a pair."
"Yes, Andrew; you can go, if you will be home early."
"Yes, ma'am—thank you."
As he went out, Miss Priscilla said:
"I have it."
"What?" asked Sophia, alarmed.
"I mean that I have found out what to give to Andrew."
"What is it?"
"A pair of skates."
"Just so," said Sophia. "He will like them."
"So I think. Suppose we go to the store while he is away, and buy him a pair."
"Won't he need to try them on?" asked her sister.
"No," said Priscilla. "They don't need to fit as exactly as boots."
So the two sisters made their way to the village store, and asked to look at their stock of skates.
"Are you going to skate, Miss Priscilla?" asked the shopkeeper, jocosely.
"No; they are for Sophia," answered Priscilla, who could joke occasionally.
"Oh, Priscilla," answered the matter-of-fact Sophia, "you didn't tell me about that. I am sure I could not skate. You said they were for Andrew."
"Sophia, you are a goose."
"Just so."
"It was only a joke."
"Just so."
The ladies, who never did things by halves, selected the best pair in the store, and paid for them. When Andy had returned from skating, Priscilla said: "How did you like the skating, Andrew?"
"It was bully," said Andrew, enthusiastically.
"Whose skates did you borrow?"
"Alfred Parker's. They were too small for me, but I made them do."
"I should suppose you would like to have a pair of your own."
"So I should, but I can't afford to buy a pair, just yet.
"I'll tell you what I want to do, and maybe you'll help me about buyin' it."
"What is it, Andrew?"
"You know Christmas is comin', ma'am, and I want to buy my mother a nice dress for a Christmas present—not a calico one, but a thick one for winter."
"Alpaca or de laine?"
"I expect so; I don't know the name of what I want, but you do. How much would it cost?"
"I think you could get a good de laine for fifty cents a yard. I saw some at the store this afternoon."
"And about how many yards would be wanted, ma'am?"
"About twelve, I should think."
"Then it would be six dollars."
"Just so," said Sophia, who thought it about time she took part in the conversation.
"I've got the money, ma'am, and I'll give it to you, if you and Miss Sophia will be kind enough to buy it for me."
"To be sure we will, Andrew," said Priscilla, kindly. "I am glad you are such a good son."
"Just so, Andrew."
"You see," said Andy, "mother won't buy anything for herself. She always wants to buy things for Mary and me. She wants us to be well-dressed, but she goes with the same old clothes. So I want her to have a new dress."
"You want her to have it at Christmas, then?"
"Yes, ma'am, if it won't be too much trouble."
"That is in two days. To-morrow, Sophia and I will buy the dress."
"Thank you. Here's the money," and Andy counted out six dollars in bills, of which Miss Priscilla took charge.
The next day they fulfilled their commission, and purchased a fine dress pattern at the village store. It cost rather more than siX — dollars, but this they paid out of their own pockets, and did not report to Andy. Just after supper, as he was about to go home to spend Christmas Eve, they placed the bundle in his hands.
"Isn't it beautiful!" he exclaimed, with delight. "Won't mother be glad to get it?"
"She'll think she has a good son, Andrew."
"Shure, I ought to be good to her, for she's a jewel of a mother."
"That is right, Andrew. I always like to hear a boy speak well of his mother. It is a great pleasure to a mother to have a good son."
"Shure, ma'am," said Andy, with more kindness of heart than discretion, "I hope you'll have one yourself."
"Just so," said Sophia, with the forced habit upon her.
"Sophia, you are a goose!" said Priscilla, blushing a little.
"Just so, Priscilla."
"We are too old to marry, Andrew," said Priscilla; "but we thank you for your wish."
"Shure, ma'am, you are only in the prime of life."
"Just so," said Sophia, brightening up.
"I shall be sixty next spring. That can hardly be in the prime of life."
"I was readin' of a lady that got married at seventy-nine, ma'am."
"Just so," said Sophia, eagerly.
Miss Priscilla did not care to pursue the subject.
"We have thought of you," she continued, "and, as you have been very obliging, we have bought you a Christmas present. Here it is."
Andy no sooner saw the skates than his face brightened up with the most evident satisfaction.
"It's just what I wanted," he said, joyfully. "They're regular beauties! I'm ever so much obliged to you."
"Sophia wanted to get you a pair of spectacles, but I thought these would suit you better."
Andy went off into a fit of laughter at the idea, in which both the ladies joined him. Then, after thanking them again, he hurried home, hardly knowing which gave him greater pleasure, his own present, or his mother's.
I will not stop to describe Andy's Christmas, for this is only a retrospect, but carry my reader forward to the next September, when Andy met with an adventure, which eventually had a considerable effect upon his fortunes.