ould git two dollars apiece; and we caught--we caught
Miss Pray's tom-cat!"

Wesley rubbed his grimy hand across his eyes.

"She scolded awful and told us to go down to the clam flats and not to
come home till we'd got two bushels o' clams for the hens. Fast as I
get a roller full and go over and emp'y 'em on the bank the crows come
'n' eat 'em up--look a' there!"

I saw.

"Wesley, your load does seem greater than you can bear." He wore
trousers of a style prevalent among the Basins, of meal sacks; only his
were not shaped at all--there was simply a sack for each leg, tied with
gathering strings at the ankles. His jacket was as much too small for
his stout little person as his trousers were voluminous; and Miss Pray,
who was artistic by freaks, had made it with an impertinent little tail
like a bird's tail.

Wesley was not only afflicted, he was ludicrous in the face of high
heaven.

"There 's got to be a new deal," blubbered he, with his fist in his
eyes, "or I shall kick."

"_Could_ you kick in those trousers, Wesley?" I said.

He regarded me curiously, then replied with evident faith: "I could,
nights."

"Ah! I'm so lame that I couldn't even kick much, nights, Wesley."

His countenance changed from its self-pity; he removed the fist from
his eyes. "I've always wondered," he said, "'t you didn't kick more."

"Where is Belle O'Neill?"

"I told 'er 't she'd got me to set the trap, 'nd she orter, 't least,
keep the crows off'n the clams; but she went over to Lunette's and
borrowed the book, 'n' she's settin' there in the graves, where Miss
Pray can't see her, readin' it."

I sighed to think how early, among his other trials, Wesley was
learning the frailties of the lovable sex.

"I will go up and keep the crows off of the clams for you, Wesley."

"I think," said Wesley innocently, his face expressing a kindlier
gratitude than his words conveyed, "'t you could scare 'em off
first-rate!"

While I reclined on the green bank, not far from the clams, a solemn
and fearful reprehension to the crows, I heard Belle O'Neill's voice
reading to herself aloud among the graves. The Basins possessed but
one secular volume, which they were accustomed to lend from house to
house, and which was designated without confusion as "the book."

Belle O'Neill, peeping out from the graves, saw me, and came forward,
blushing timidly. Wesley rose from the clam flats and hissed at her
for her treachery, but she was very