le period.

At last an event occurred in the family; the Uncle arrived unexpectedly
and stated his intention of spending the night. "That is," he said, "if
you will give me something better for my supper than a lot of quotations
and rules of grammar. I can't eat them, you know."

The family thought this a very odd speech and a very grumpy old
gentleman--but they didn't tell him so. He put on his spectacles and
looked at the Button Boy very attentively, but the Boy didn't mind; he
was too conscious of fulfilling faithfully for six months his part of
the contract, and, beside, he stood before the designer of the Buttons.

But when he took the glasses off and said, "Well, you must be pretty
fond of money. I don't think double the sum could hire me to make such a
show of myself," the Boy minded it exceedingly. He sat down for half an
hour and considered whether he wasn't doing a sort of mean thing after
all, and he became exceedingly miserable in the conclusion that he was
not at all the noble pattern of a boy he used to think he was.

In the morning the Uncle declared his intention of taking a walk and
invited his nephew to go with him. Very sure that the peculiar
disposition of the old gentleman was capable of bringing him into plenty
of unpleasant situations before they reached home again, the Boy found
himself almost indifferent to them. A feeling had been growing on him
that anything short of meanness or wrongdoing was not worth being
mortified about; he felt calm even at a public exhibition of the
buttons, he was so disturbed by the discovery of the unworthy motive
which had supported him in making a show of himself.

But the Uncle made himself such delightful company on their walk--they
left the town--that at last he forgot himself, forgot himself until they
saw before them a boy running. He knew him; it was the Back. He
stumbled, pitched, fell, picked himself up slowly, limped painfully to
the roadside and sat down there holding on to his ankle. The Boy and the
Uncle soon came up.

"Humph; sprained your ankle," said the Uncle.

"I think so," replied the Back, looking very white.

The Uncle took out his handkerchief, tore it in two, and dipping it in
the cold waters of the brook, tied it tightly about his limb.

"Thank you, sir," said the Back, almost groaning, "I guess I can't walk
just yet, I'll stay here till something comes along to take me in. The
trouble is--the trouble is, I ought to be going on, I ou