ted more poignant sorrow.

"Oh, it's sp'ilt!" groaned the old lady. "I can never wear it arter
this. And it cost four dollars and sixty-two cents and a half without
the ribbon. Oh, deary me!"

Then, suddenly waxing indignant with the author of the mischief, she put
her head out of the window, and, espying Pomp on the other side of the
stone wall, looking half-repentant and half-struck with the fun of the
thing, she shook her fist at him, exclaiming, "Oh, you little sarpint,
ef I only had you here, I'd w'ip you till you couldn't stan'."

Pomp was so far from being terrified by this menace that he burst into a
loud guffaw. This, of course, added fuel to the flame of the old lady's
wrath, and filled her with thoughts of immediate vengeance. Her sympathy
with the oppressed black race was at that moment very small.

"Jest lend me your w'ip, driver," said she, "an' I'll l'arn that sassy
imp to make fun of his elders."

Ajax, whose sense of humor was tickled by the old lady's peculiarities,
quietly took her at her word, and coming round to the side opened the
door of the carriage.

"There, ma'am," said he, extending the whip. "Don't spare him. He
deserves a flogging."

Mrs. Payson, her eyes flashing from beneath her glasses with a vengeful
light, seized the proffered whip with alacrity, and jumped out of the
wagon with a lightness which could hardly have been anticipated of one
of her age.

"Now, look out," she said, brandishing the whip in a menacing way. "I'll
git pay for that bunnit in one way, ef I don't in another."

Pomp maintained his position on the other side of the wall. He waited
till the old lady was fairly over, and then commenced running. The
old lady pursued with vindictive animosity, cracking the whip in a
suggestive manner. Pomp doubled and turned in a most provoking way.
Finally he had recourse to a piece of strategy. He had flung himself,
doubled up in a ball, at the old lady's feet, and she, unable to check
her speed, fell over him, clutching at the ground with her outstretched
hands, from which the whip had fallen.

"Hi, hi!" shrieked Pomp, with a yell of inconceivable delight, as he
watched the signal downfall of his adversary. Springing quickly to his
feet, he ran swiftly away.

"Good for you, you old debble!" he cried from a safe distance.

Henry Morton, though he found it difficult to restrain his laughter,
turned to Ajax and said, "I think it's time we interfered. If you'll
overtake the