ound, but the tint was pure and lovely, and it was
lined with rainbow pearl. The dog was not jealous, for he knew (or the
boy John thought he knew), that he was, after all, the more
companionable of the two, and that he was talked to ten times for the
mussel's once. John was telling him now, as he struggled into his shirt
and trousers, about the vision of last night, and the dreams that
followed it. "And as soon as ever I have my chores done," he said, and
his eyes shone, and his cheek flushed at the thought, "as soon as ever,
I'm going down there, just to see. Of course, I suppose it isn't there,
you know; but then,--if it should be!"

The dog expressed sympathy in his usual quiet way, and was of the
opinion that John should go by all means, for, after all, who could say
that the vision might not have been reality? When one considered the
stories one had read! and had not the dog just heard the whole of
"Robinson Crusoe" read aloud, bit by bit, in stealthy whispers, by early
daylight, by moonlight, by stray bits of candle begged from a
neighbor,--had he not heard and appreciated every word of the immortal
story? He was no ignorant dog, indeed! His advice was worth having.

Breakfast was soon eaten; it did not take long to eat breakfast in Mr.
Scraper's house. The chores were a more serious matter, for every spoon
and plate had to be washed to the tune of a lashing tongue, and under an
eye that withered all it lighted on. But at last,--at last the happy
hour came when the tyrant's back was turned, and the tyrant's feet
tottered off in the direction of the post-office. The daily purchases,
the daily gossip at the "store," would fill the rest of the morning, as
John well knew. He listened in silence to the charges to "keep stiddy to
work, and git that p'tater-patch wed by noon;" he watched the departure
of his tormentor, and went straight to the potato-patch, duty and fear
leading him by either hand. The weeds had no safety of their lives that
day; he was in too great a hurry to dally, as he loved to do, over the
bigger stalks of pigweed, the giants which he, with his trusty
sword--only it was a hoe--would presently dash to the earth and behead,
and tear in pieces. Even the sprawling pusley-stems, which generally
played the part of devil-fish and tarantulas and various other monsters,
suffered no amputation of limb by limb, but were torn up with merciful
haste, and flung in heaps together.

Was the potato-patch thorough