Boys," continued the teacher, "tell me what is your idea of a
hero."

"A man who does what is right whether he likes to or not," said
Ralph, who was feeling much ashamed of his share in the morning's
doings.

"A man who defends the weak," said Tommy proudly. The teacher
nodded.

"You are both right," said he; "and I hope from this out to have
not one, but a whole roomful of heroes."

When the breaking-up of school aroused Master Sunshine, he rubbed
his eyes open and stared about wonderingly. He could not think
what had made him do such a silly thing as to go to sleep in
school.

The boys crowded around him as he said good-by to Mr. Sinclair and
started for home. Tommy grabbed his books, another lad gave him a
little penknife with a tortoise-shell handle, and a third offered
him a great, shiny, winter apple.

These delicate attentions were so unexpected that Master Sunshine
was quite bewildered, and he was even more puzzled and perhaps a
little frightened, when Dick caught him up upon his shoulder, and
carried him home in state.

It was all so new and so unexpected, and he was so tired, that he
did not ask why it was that the boys, led by Mr. Sinclair, gave
three rousing cheers for the "hero of Hill-top school" just as he
and his bearer went out of the school gate.

He half dozed again, even on his high perch; and it was not until
the shrill voices of the Wanderer and his Wife warned him, that he
realized that he was home at last and that another rainstorm was
drawing near.

CHAPTER VI.

KIND DEEDS.

On Friday afternoons Mr. Sinclair usually gave his pupils a very
pleasant hour just before closing. Of late he had been reading
aloud "Beautiful Joe," and all had been interested in the story of
the intelligent dog.

Tommy Dane listened intently to every word, and was quick to put
in practice every kind suggestion; while Master Sunshine smiled
his approval of the familiar tale, for his own copy of the book
was much thumbed from constant reading. He felt very happy to
think that so many boys who had pets were learning how to take
care of them properly. But he was quite as surprised as the rest
of the lads when, at the close of the reading that week, Mr.
Sinclair leaned over his desk and said, "Boys, I am not going to
read to you next Friday afternoon."

A little murmur of disappointment ran around the room. "Instead,"
he continued, smiling down at their troubled faces, "I want you to
entertain me