. Grumbling at the time for flying so quickly, he snatched
up one of his school books, threw his satchel with the rest over his
shoulder, and started off at a quick pace, learning his lesson as he
went. Of course he could not always look where he was going, and the
consequence was he knocked up against people, and trod on their toes,
and so far from apologizing in his ill-humour, he declared to himself
that "it served them right; why didn't they get out of his way?"

The clock struck nine: Charlie was desperate; he quickened his pace
almost to a run, and taking a last glance at his lesson as he turned the
corner, he came with a crash against a lamp-post, that sent him
backwards, his book flying out of his hand, his forehead bruised, and
his nose bleeding.

Poor Charlie sat on the ground almost stunned, and scarcely knowing for
the moment what it was, or where he was. At last he got slowly up,
gathered his books together, and turned towards home, holding his
handkerchief to his bruised face, and feeling very miserable.

"It was all that stupid old lamp-post, mother!" he said angrily, when
he was telling his tale to her.

"No, no, Charlie," said Mrs. Heedman; "was it not that stupid Charlie
Scott, who did not look where he was going?"

It was no use going to school that morning. The bruises were doctored,
and Charlie, after learning his lessons, took up an interesting book. He
was fond of reading, and was soon deep in the contents.

"Just run into Mrs. Brown's, next door, Charlie, will you, and ask if
she can let me have the bread tin I lent her yesterday," said Mrs.
Heedman.

"Yes, mother, in a minute," answered Charlie, still reading on, and
thinking, "There's time enough; I dare say the bread is not ready."
After a short time she spoke again, "Come, Charlie, I'm waiting."

"Yes, mother, I'm coming," said Charlie, getting half off his chair, but
still keeping his eyes on the book. "I'll just finish this chapter," he
thought; there were only two sentences to read. When it was finished, he
looked up, and saw his mother had gone herself for the tin. She came in,
looking weary and tired, for she had had a busy morning, and Charlie's
conscience smote him.

"Oh, mother, I'm so sorry," he exclaimed. "I thought I had time enough
to finish the chapter."

"Charlie, I do wish you would learn to do a thing at once. I cannot bear
to hear you so constantly saying 'There's time enough,'" said his
mother; "it makes me tremb