tered them so that people should tumble down. He drove poor
Silas nearly wild by hanging his big boots in conspicuous places,
for his feet were enormous, and he was very much ashamed of them. He
persuaded confiding little Dolly to tie a thread to one of his loose
teeth, and leave the string hanging from his mouth when he went to
sleep, so that Tommy could pull it out without his feeling the dreaded
operation. But the tooth wouldn't come at the first tweak, and poor
Dolly woke up in great anguish of spirit, and lost all faith in Tommy
from that day forth.

The last prank had been to give the hens bread soaked in rum, which made
them tipsy and scandalized all the other fowls, for the respectable old
biddies went staggering about, pecking and clucking in the most maudlin
manner, while the family were convulsed with laughter at their antics,
till Daisy took pity on them and shut them up in the hen-house to sleep
off their intoxication.

These were the boys and they lived together as happy as twelve lads
could, studying and playing, working and squabbling, fighting faults and
cultivating virtues in the good old-fashioned way. Boys at other schools
probably learned more from books, but less of that better wisdom which
makes good men. Latin, Greek, and mathematics were all very well, but in
Professor Bhaer's opinion, self knowledge, self-help, and self-control
were more important, and he tried to teach them carefully. People shook
their heads sometimes at his ideas, even while they owned that the boys
improved wonderfully in manners and morals. But then, as Mrs. Jo said to
Nat, "it was an odd school."

CHAPTER III. SUNDAY

The moment the bell rang next morning Nat flew out of bed, and dressed
himself with great satisfaction in the suit of clothes he found on
the chair. They were not new, being half-worn garments of one of the
well-to-do boys; but Mrs. Bhaer kept all such cast-off feathers for the
picked robins who strayed into her nest. They were hardly on when Tommy
appeared in a high state of clean collar, and escorted Nat down to
breakfast.

The sun was shining into the dining-room on the well-spread table, and
the flock of hungry, hearty lads who gathered round it. Nat observed
that they were much more orderly than they had been the night before,
and every one stood silently behind his chair while little Rob, standing
beside his father at the head of the table, folded his hands, reverently
bent his curly head, an