heir real feelings. Nate knew that his conduct had been very
shabby and contemptible, and he was ashamed of it, but did not like to
say so. Jimmy, for his part, was glad to make up, but did not wish to
seem too glad.

Then they each tried to think of something else to say. They were fully
agreed that they had talked long enough about their foolish quarrel and
would never allude to it again.

"Glad that watch has come," said Nate.

"So am I. It has come, but it won't _go_," said Jimmy. And they laughed
as if this were a great joke.

Next Jimmy inquired about "the colonel," and Nate asked: "What colonel?
Oh, you mean the mining engineer. He'll be here next week with his men."

By this time the boys were feeling so friendly that Jimmy asked Nate to
go with him before school next morning to see the knitting-woman's pets
and hear the blind canary sing.

"Do you suppose the magpie will be there?" returned Nate. "I want to
catch her some time and wring her old neck."

"Wish you would," said Jimmy. "Hello, there's Chicken Little crying
again. He's more of a baby than our Eddo."

Henry was crying now because Dave Blake had called him a coward. So
very, very unjust! He stood near the schoolhouse door, wiping his eyes
on his checked apron and saying:--

"I'll go tell the teacher, Dave Blake!"

"Well, go along and tell her then. Fie, for shame!"

Henry, a feeble, petted child, was always falling into trouble and
always threatening to tell the teacher. Kyzie considered him very
tiresome; but to-day when he came to her with his tale of woe, she
listened patiently, because she had done him a wrong and wished to atone
for it. She had "really and truly" suspected this simple child of a
crime! He would not take so much as a pin without leave; neither would
Joseph Rolfe. Yet in her heart she had been accusing these innocent
children of stealing her father's watch!

"Miserable me!" thought Kyzie. "I must be very good to both of them now,
to make up for my dreadful injustice!"

She went to Joe and sweetly offered to lend him her knife to whittle
his lead pencil. He looked surprised. He did not know she had ever
wronged him in her heart.

She wiped Henry's eyes on her own pocket handkerchief.

"Poor little cry-baby!" thought she. "I told my mother I would try to
make a man of him, and now I mean to begin."

She walked part of the way home with him that afternoon. He considered
it a great honor. She looked like a little gi