the
little village boys. Hereafter I shall tell and read stories of heroes
who won glory by fighting, not one another, but dragons, giants,
gorgons, and like destroyers of their countries.

Nucky inquired of me at supper to-night when he might make a visit home
to Trigger; whereupon there was an instant and unanimous offer on the
part of the boys to accompany him, when he goes, and see the hero Blant.
He shook his head. "I haint aiming to take none of you," he said, "not
if she'll go 'long with me," looking at me.

"I?" I said, much complimented. "Why, surely I will if I can. But it is
three weeks yet before your time comes:"--the children are permitted to
go home over week-ends every seven or eight weeks, in rotation. I am
glad he wants me, and feel a considerable desire to visit Trigger.

IX

MORE TRADING, AND SOME FAMILY HISTORY

_First Monday in September._

Four weeks to-day since I acquired my family of sons, and now it seems
as if I had had them always. So far from being ready to leave now my
month is out, wild horses could not drag me away. The hours, once so
leaden, pass with lightning swiftness; there is never any time for
depression, or for looking into a desolate and dreaded future; my days
are crammed with human interest, exciting as a dime novel. Besides,
although I see no evidence that the boys care much for me, I care a
great deal for them, and would not willingly leave them.

Geordie brought back with him from our walk yesterday a large bundle of
elder-poles. This morning, mumble-peg went out, and pop-guns came in,
like a clap of thunder, and I heard that Geordie was selling lengths of
elder to the boys for two cents, or a satisfactory equivalent. It was
impossible this afternoon to get manure hauled to the new
flower-borders,--every time a barrow would get out of sight, the wheeler
would sit down on it and go to whittling a pop-gun. After being scolded
a third time, Philip complained bitterly to me,

"If you never wanted us to have pop-guns, whyn't you take them poles
away from Geordie yesterday? Dad burn my looks, we git all the blame,
and he gits all the gain,--he's a making it hand over fist."

"He was the only one who thought of putting the elder to use," I said.
"I suppose he has a right to his gains."

Philip sadly admitted the justice of this view. "Dag gone _me_," he
sighed, "I wisht I was a born trader and forelooker like him! Good
thing I haint aiming to be no preach