up now?"

Mr. Toby stared without speaking, and then threw out both his arms, and
for a moment it looked as if he were going to hug the Little Boy, but he
evidently thought better of it.

"Are you--? Why, of course you are! Ain't I been telling you? But don't
you go and presume on it too much, young feller! You don't think you can
go and smoke cigarettes now, just because you're grown up, do you?"

"Oh no, sir," said Freddie, earnestly.

"I should hope not. And that there Chinaman's head up there--you don't
think you can go and smoke that magic tobacco now, do you? Because if
you do!"

"No, sir," said Freddie; but he said this a little doubtfully, and he
looked at the Chinaman's head with more interest than ever. What was the
use of being grown up if you couldn't take a little risk now and then?

"All right, then!" cried Mr. Toby. "We've got to have a little
celebration over this here event, and we'd better go in and see Aunt
Amanda about it, right now!"

He grasped Freddie's hand again, and pulled him to the back door, and
through into the back room where Aunt Amanda was sitting by the table
with the wax flowers, sewing.

"Quick! quick! Tell Aunt Amanda your name now, quick! What's your name?"
cried Mr. Toby.

"Freddie!" said the Little Boy, very distinctly, but looking down at the
carpet, for fear he should seem proud.

"We're grown up today," cried Mr. Toby, "and we've got to celebrate!"

Aunt Amanda raised her eyebrows in astonishment, and said:

"Esheeraybysart!"

She put her hand to her mouth and somehow got out into her hand a good
mouthful of pins. She laid them down on the table at her elbow, and
said:

"Bless the dear baby's heart! And are you grown up now?"

"Yes'm," said Freddie, looking up and then down again, for he did not
wish to seem too proud.

Aunt Amanda looked at him for a moment, and took out her handkerchief
and blew her nose very loud.

"Toby," she said, "what did you mean by a celebration?"

"Tomorrow's Saturday," said he.

"Well, what of it?"

Freddie could not understand very well what they were saying after that,
except that he was concerned in it somehow, until he heard Aunt Amanda
say:

"You'd better ask his mother, then."

"Young man," said Mr. Toby, "if I write a letter to your ma, will you
give it to her?"

"Yes, sir," said Freddie, whereupon Mr. Toby sat down at the other side
of the table, with pen and paper and ink, and commenced to write.

"First," sa