?"

Oscar could not recall it, and shook his head in the negative.

"I have not forgotten it," continued his mother; "it was on forgiving
our enemies, and it is a lesson that you very much need to learn. 'If
ye forgive not men their trespasses, neither will your Father forgive
your trespasses,'--that was one of the verses of the lesson. It is
noble to forgive, but it is mean to retaliate. You must learn to
conquer your resentful spirit, or you will be in trouble all the time.
I shall report this matter to your father when he comes. I suppose you
remember what he promised you, when you had your fight with Sam Oliver?"

Oscar remembered it very distinctly. On that occasion, his father
reprimanded him with much severity, and assured him that any repetition
of the fault would not go unpunished.

Mr. Preston soon came in, and as the family sat at the tea-table, he
was informed of Oscar's misconduct. After scolding the culprit with
much sharpness, for his attack upon Willie, he concluded by ordering
him immediately to bed. Although it yet lacked two hours of his usual
bed-time, Oscar did not consider his punishment very severe, but
retired to his chamber, feeling delighted that he had got off so much
easier than he anticipated. Indeed, so little did he think of his
father's command, that he felt in no hurry to obey it. Instead of
going to bed, he sat awhile at the window, listening to the music of a
flute which some one in the neighborhood was playing upon. Presently
Ralph and George, who slept in the same chamber with him, came up to
keep him company. They amused themselves together for some time, and
Oscar quite forgot that he had been sent to bed, until the door
suddenly opened, and his father, whose attention had been attracted by
the noise, stood before him.

"Did n't I tell you to go to bed an hour ago, Oscar?" he inquired.

"Yes, sir."

"Why have n't you obeyed me, then?"

"Because," said Oscar, "I 've got a lesson to get to-night, and I have
n't studied it yet."

"If you 've got a lesson to learn, where is your book?" inquired his
father.

"It 's down stairs; I was afraid to go after it, and so I was trying to
coax Ralph to get it for me."

"O, what a story!" cried George; "why, father, he has n't said one word
about his book."

This was true. Oscar, in his extremity, had hastily framed a
falsehood, trusting that his assurance would enable him to carry it
through. And he would probably hav