amma, don't tell papa when he comes home, because I want to
tell him myself."

"No, I promise," answered mamma, smiling.

At the supper-table, his delight was great, therefore, when he found
that instead of going to the city, Mr. Curtis had been to the town
where the quarry of granite was.

"I concluded," said papa, with a curious smile, "that it would be a
pleasure to go to the nursery in company with a boy who put aside his
own wishes in order to please his mother. Dodge must get his ground
ready, and wait till Saturday for his trees."

"Oh, papa! papa!!" shouted the boy, dancing with delight. "I mean to
be always good, you and mamma are so very kind."

This was Thursday; on Saturday morning at an early hour the Squire and
his son were on their way to the nursery.

They drove Duke in the carriage to the depot station, and left him in
a stable close by, so that he would be ready as soon as they returned
from the city. Bertie was in the gayest of spirits. He sat by the
window, watching the farmers at work in the fields, ploughing,
harrowing, or making furrows for putting the seed into their land. He
enjoyed all this vastly, because he understood how it ought to be
done.

He was so absorbed in watching these operations as they whizzed along
past one farm and then another, that he quite forgot the pleasant
errand on which he was bound. But suddenly he was recalled to the
present by a plaintive voice asking,--"Have a paper, sir? This
morning's paper, sir, and all the telegram news."

Mr. Curtis was absorbed in thought, and took no notice of the newsboy;
but there was something in the sad voice, which awoke Bertie's quick
sympathies.

"Papa! papa!" he repeated, pulling his father's arm, "won't you please
buy a paper? See how many the boy has left."

"I've too much on my mind to care for newspapers, dear."

Bertie raised himself till he could speak in his father's ear.

"Please, papa, see how sick he looks. Can't you buy one?"

The gentleman opened his pocket-book, and gave his son fifty cents.

"Use it as you please," he said, softly.

All this time the newsboy had been making change for a coarse,
rough-looking man who sat opposite, who was obliged to squirt a whole
mouthful of tobacco juice out of his mouth, before he could say,--

"Give me a Erald," and then another mouthful to add,--"Don't cheat,
now, you young rascal."

When the right change had been given, and the man was settled to his
paper, the