t his tool-box out west, he could
have done "a heap better." It was quite funny to see her standing over
him with such a happy, wondering little face, sometimes singing snatches
of little songs, which were sure to be wrong somewhere, such as,--

"Little kinds of _deedness_,
Little words of love,
Make this _earthen needn't_,
Like the heaven above."

She thought, as Horace did, that her sled would look very well "crossed
off with green;" but Susy would not consent. So Horace made a doll's
sled out of shingles, with turned-up runners, and a tongue of string.
This toy pleased Prudy, and no one had a right to say it should not be
painted green.

But as Captain Horace was just preparing to add this finishing touch, a
lady arrived with little twin-boys, four years old. Aunt Madge came into
the shed to call Horace and Prudy. "O, auntie," said Horace, "I don't
believe I care to play with those little persons!"

His aunt smiled at hearing children called "little persons," but told
Horace it would not be polite to neglect his young visitors: it would be
positively rude. Horace did not wish to be considered an ill-mannered
boy, and at last consented to have his hands and garments cleansed with
turpentine to erase the paint, and to go into the nursery to see the
"little persons."

It seemed to him and Prudy that the visit lasted a great while, and that
it was exceedingly hard work to be polite.

When it was well over, Prudy said, "The next lady that comes here, I
hope she won't bring any little _double boys_! What do I love little
boys for, 'thout they're my cousins?"

After the sled was carefully dried, Horace printed on it the words "Lady
Jane," in large yellow letters. His friend Gilbert found the paint for
this, and it was thought by both the boys that the sled could not have
been finer if "Lady Jane" had been spread on with gold-leaf by a
sign-painter.

"Now, Prudy," said Horace, "it isn't, everybody can make such a sled as
that! It's right strong, too; as strong as--why, it's strong enough to
'bear up an egg'!"

If Horace had done only such innocent things as to "drill" the little
boys, make sleds for Prudy, and keep store with Gilbert, his mother
might have felt happy.

But Horace was growing careless. His father's parting words, "Always
obey your mother, my son, and remember that God sees all you do," did
not often ring in his ears now. Mr. Clifford, though a kind parent, had
always bee