never had any time; I was always fiddling
round, you know."

"I don't love it myself, but I can do it well enough when I want to,"
said Tommy, after a surprised look, which said as plainly as words, "A
boy twelve years old and can't read!"

"I can read music, anyway," added Nat, rather ruffled at having to
confess his ignorance.

"I can't;" and Tommy spoke in a respectful tone, which emboldened Nat to
say firmly,

"I mean to study real hard and learn every thing I can, for I never had
a chance before. Does Mr. Bhaer give hard lessons?"

"No; he isn't a bit cross; he sort of explains and gives you a boost
over the hard places. Some folks don't; my other master didn't. If we
missed a word, didn't we get raps on the head!" and Tommy rubbed his own
pate as if it tingled yet with the liberal supply of raps, the memory
of which was the only thing he brought away after a year with his "other
master."

"I think I could read this," said Nat, who had been examining the books.

"Read a bit, then; I'll help you," resumed Tommy, with a patronizing
air.

So Nat did his best, and floundered through a page with may friendly
"boosts" from Tommy, who told him he would soon "go it" as well as
anybody. Then they sat and talked boy-fashion about all sorts of things,
among others, gardening; for Nat, looking down from his perch, asked
what was planted in the many little patches lying below them on the
other side of the brook.

"These are our farms," said Tommy. "We each have our own patch, and
raise what we like in it, only have to choose different things, and
can't change till the crop is in, and we must keep it in order all
summer."

"What are you going to raise this year?"

"Wal, I cattleated to hev beans, as they are about the easiest crop
a-goin'."

Nat could not help laughing, for Tommy had pushed back his hat, put his
hands in his pockets, and drawled out his words in unconscious imitation
of Silas, the man who managed the place for Mr. Bhaer.

"Come, you needn't laugh; beans are ever so much easier than corn or
potatoes. I tried melons last year, but the bugs were a bother, and the
old things wouldn't get ripe before the frost, so I didn't have but one
good water and two little 'mush mellions,'" said Tommy, relapsing into a
"Silasism" with the last word.

"Corn looks pretty growing," said Nat, politely, to atone for his laugh.

"Yes, but you have to hoe it over and over again. Now, six weeks' beans
only have to