emendous energy, and wrenching the basket out of Peter's hand. He did
it with ease, although the small clerk was twice the size of the imp.

Peter remonstrated, but in vain. Mrs Brown, a woman of powerful frame
and strong mind, could not turn Jacky from his purpose--it was not
likely, therefore, that an amiable milk-and-water boy, in a state of
exhaustion, could do it. Jacky swung the basket over his shoulder with
an amount of exertion that made him stagger, and, commanding Peter to
follow, marched up the hill with compressed lips and knitted brows.

It was an epoch in the mental development of Jacky--it was a new
sensation to the child. Hitherto he had known nothing but the feeling
of dependence. Up to this point he had been compelled by the force of
circumstances to look up to everyone--and, alas! he had done so with a
very bad grace. He had never known what it was to help any one. His
mother had thoroughly spoiled him. Strange infatuation in the mother!
She had often blamed the boy for spoiling his toys; but she had never
blamed herself for spoiling the boy. "Darling Jacky! don't ask the
child to do anything for you--he's too young yet." So Jacky was never
asked to help any one in any way, except by Mrs Brown, who did not
"ask," but commanded, and, although she never rewarded obedience with
the laurel, either literally or figuratively, she invariably punished
disobedience with the _palm_. Little Tilly always did everything she
wanted done herself; and could never do enough for Jacky, so that she
afforded no opportunity for her brother to exercise amiable qualities.
Thus was Jacky trained to be a selfish little imp, and to this training
he superadded the natural wickedness of his own little heart. But now,
for the first time, the tables were turned. Jacky felt that Peter was
dependent on him--that he could not get on without him.

"Poor Peter, I'll help him--he's a weak skinny chap, and I'm strong as a
lion--as a elephant--as a crokindile--anything! Come on, Peter, are you
getting better now?" Thus they went up the hill together.

"Ha! there they are at last, close under this mound. Why, I do believe
that Jacky's carrying the basket!"

Mr Sudberry was bereft of breath at this discovery; so was everyone
else. When the boy stumped up the hill and flung down the basket with
an emphatic, "there!" his father turned to the small clerk--

"How now, sir, did you bid Jacky carry that?"

"Please, sir--no,