lie, "I pushed him out."

"_You_ pushed him, you wicked boy," cried a rough voice. "Do you know
you ought to be sent to jail, and if he dies, maybe you'll be hung."

Tom grew as white as Dick, whom he had followed into the store, and he
heard all that passed as if in a dream.

"Is he badly hurt?" cried some one.

"Only his hands," was the answer. "The rope saved him, he caught hold
of the rope and slipped down; but his hands are dreadfully torn--he
has fainted from pain."

Just then Tom's father came in, and soon understood the case. The look
he gave at his unhappy son, so full of sorrow, not unmingled with
pity, was too much for Tom, and he stole out, followed by the faithful
Tiger. He wandered to the woods, and threw himself upon the ground.
One hour ago he was a happy boy, and now what a terrible change! What
has made the difference? Nothing but the indulgence of this wicked,
violent temper. His mother had often warned him of the fearful
consequences. She had told him that little boys who would not learn to
govern themselves, grew up to be very wicked men, and often became
murderers in some moment of passion. And now, Tom shuddered to think
he was almost a murderer! Nothing but God's great mercy in putting
that rope in Dick's way, had saved him from carrying that load of
sorrow and guilt all the rest of his life. But poor Dick, he might die
yet--how pale he looked--how strange! Tom fell upon his knees, and
prayed God to "spare Dick's life," and from that time forth, with
God's help, he promised that he would strive to conquer this wicked
passion.

Then, as he could no longer bear his terrible suspense, he started for
Widow Casey's cottage. As he appeared at the humble door, Mrs. Casey
angrily ordered him away, saying: "You have made a poor woman trouble
enough for one day." But Dick's feeble voice entreated, "O mother, let
him come in; I was just as bad as he."

Tom gave a cry of joy at hearing these welcome tones, and sprang
hastily in. There sat poor Dick with his hands bound up, looking very
pale, but Tom thanked God that he was alive.

"I should like to know how I am to live now," sighed Mrs. Casey. "Who
will weed the garden, and carry my vegetables to market? I am afraid
we shall suffer for bread before the summer is over," and she put her
apron to her eyes.

"Mrs. Casey," cried Tom, eagerly, "I will do everything that Dick did.
I will sell the potatoes and beans, and will drive Mr. Brown's cows to