all about it."

But Willy Norton had not forgotten all about it. He was just as happy
as ever. He had entirely forgiven Grandma Perry for her mistake. Next
summer he was going to Exeter again and have a beautiful time; but a
good many years would pass, and whenever he looked at that little gold
watch, he would see double. It would have for him a background of his
grandfather's best coat.

Innocence and truth can feel the shadow of unjust suspicion when
others can no longer see it.

THE STRANGER IN THE VILLAGE.

"Margary," said her mother, "take the pitcher now, and fetch me some
fresh, cool water from the well, and I will cook the porridge for
supper."

"Yes, mother," said Margary. Then she put on her little white dimity
hood, and got the pitcher, which was charmingly shaped, from the
cupboard shelf. The cupboard was a three-cornered one beside the
chimney. The cottage which Margary and her mother lived in, was very
humble, to be sure, but it was very pretty. Vines grew all over it,
and flowering bushes crowded close to the diamond-paned windows. There
was a little garden at one side, with beds of pinks and violets in it,
and a straw-covered beehive, and some raspberry bushes all yellow with
fruit.

Inside the cottage, the floor was sanded with the whitest sand; lovely
old straight-backed chairs stood about; there was an oaken table,
and a spinning-wheel. A wicker cage, with a lark in it, hung in the
window.

Margary with her pitcher, tripped along to the village well. On the
way she met two of her little mates--Rosamond and Barbara. They were
flying along, their cheeks very rosy and their eyes shining.

"O, Margary," they cried, "come up to the tavern, quick, and see! The
most beautiful coach-and-four is drawn up there. There are lackeys in
green and gold, with cocked hats, and the coach hath a crest on the
side--O, Margary!"

Margary's eyes grew large too, and she turned about with her empty
pitcher and followed her friends. They had almost reached the tavern,
and were in full sight of the coach-and-four, when some one coming
toward them caused them to draw up on one side of the way and stare
with new wonder. It was a most beautiful little boy. His golden curls
hung to his shoulders, his sweet face had an expression at once gentle
and noble, and his dress was of the richest material. He led a little
flossy white dog by a ribbon.

After he had passed by, the three little girls looked at each