r; but Squashnose he sung out 'Gee whittakers!' and raised up
his head, and old Booby saw him. Well, the way he dropped his tools and
put for the door was a caution. We thought we could get down before he
reached the gallery stairs, but I caught my pants on a nail, and
Squashnose got his foot wedged in between two benches, and, by the time
we got loose, we heard old Booby comin' poundin' up the stairs like all
possessed. There wa'n't nothin' to do then but cut and run up the belfry
ladder. We slipped off our shoes and stockin's, and thought mebbe we
could get up without him hearin' us, but he did hear, and up he come
full chisel, puffin' and cussin' like all creation.

"We waited--there wa'n't nothin' else to do; and I meant--I reely did,
Mis' Tree--to own up and say I was sorry and take my lickin'; but that
Squashnose Weight--he makes me tired!--the minute he see old Booby's
bald head comin' up the ladder, he hollers out, 'Tommy Candy did it, Mr.
Boody! Tommy Candy did it; he's got his pocket full of 'em now. I see
him!'

"Well, you bet I was mad then! I got holt of him and give his head one
good ram against the wall; and then when old Booby stepped up into the
loft, I dropped down on all fours and run between his legs, and upset
him onto Squashnose, and clum down the ladder and run home. That was
every livin' thing I done, Mis' Tree, honest it was; and they blame it
all on me, the lickin' Squashnose got, and all. I give him a good one,
too, next day. I druther be me than him, anyway."

"Humph!" said Mrs. Tree. She did not look at Tommy, but held the Chinese
screen before her face. "Did--did your father whip you well, Tommy?"

"Yes'm, he did so, the best lickin' I had this year; I dono but the best
I ever had, but 'twas wuth it!"

When Master Candy left Mrs. Tree he had a neat and concise little
lecture passing through his head, on its way from one ear to the other,
and in his pocket an assortment of squares of fig-paste, red and white.
The red, as Mrs. Tree pointed out to him, had nuts in them.

Left alone, the old lady put down the screen, and let the twinkle have
its own way. She shook her head two or three times at the fire, and
laughed a little rustling laugh.

"Solomon Candy! Solomon Candy!" she said. "A chip of the old block!"

Then she took up her letter.

Half an hour later Miss Vesta, coming in for her daily visit (for Miss
Phoebe's death had brought the aunt and niece even nearer together
than they