y trotted to market each day. Many a time
had Miss Hetty felt sorely tempted to treat the boys, but was a little
timid, for they were rough fellows, and she regarded them much as a
benevolent tabby would a party of frisky puppies.

To-day the box was full of fresh cookies, crisp, brown, and sweet; their
spicy odor pervaded the room, and the china-closet door stood
suggestively open. Miss Hetty's spectacles turned that way, then went
back to the busy scene in the street, as if trying to get courage for
the deed. Something happened just then which decided her, and sealed
the doom of the bilious tarts and their maker.

Several of the younger lads were playing marbles on the sidewalk, for
Hop Scotch, Leap Frog, and friendly scuffles were going on in the yard,
and no quiet spot could be found. The fat boy sat on a post near by,
and, having eaten his last turnover, fell to teasing the small fellows
peacefully playing at his feet. One was the shabby lame boy, who hopped
to and fro with his crutch, munching a dry cracker, with now and then a
trip to the pump to wash it down. He seldom brought any lunch, and
seemed to enjoy this poor treat so much that the big bright-faced chap
tossed him a red apple as he came out of the yard to get his hat, thrown
there by the mate he had been playfully thrashing.

The lame child eyed the pretty apple lovingly, and was preparing to take
the first delicious bite, when the fat youth with a dexterous kick sent
it flying into the middle of the street, where a passing wheel crushed
it down into the mud.

"It's a shame! He _shall_ have something good! The scamp!" And with this
somewhat confused exclamation Miss Hetty threw down her work, ran to
the closet, then darted to the front door, embracing the tin box, as if
the house was on fire and that contained her dearest treasures.

"Sakes alive, what _is_ the matter with sister?" ejaculated Miss
Jerusha, going to the window just in time to see the fat boy tumble off
the post as the tall lad came to the rescue, while the cripple went
hopping across the street in answer to a kindly quavering voice that
called out to him,--

"Come here, boy, and get a cookie,--a dozen if you want 'em."

"Sister's done it at last!" And, inspired by this heroic example, Miss
Jerusha threw up the window, saying, as she beckoned to the avenger,--

"You too, because you stood by that poor little boy. Come right over and
help yourself."

Charley Howe laughed at the in