ill."

We went into the house together, I sniffling, but curious to see what
was going to happen. Uncle Peabody, by prearrangement, as I know now,
lay face downward on the sofa, and Aunt Deel began to apply the strap.
It was more than I could bear, and I threw myself between my beloved
friend and the strap and pleaded with loud cries for his forgiveness.

Uncle Peabody rose and walked out of the house without a word and with a
sterner look in his face than I had ever seen there. I searched for him
as soon as my excitement had passed, but in vain. I went out back of the
cow barn and looked away down across the stumpy flats. Neither he nor
Shep were in sight. All that lonely afternoon I watched for him. The sun
fell warm but my day was dark. Aunt Deel found me in tears sitting on
the steps of the cheese house and got her Indian book out of her trunk
and, after she had cautioned me to be very careful of it, let me sit
down with it by myself alone, and look at the pictures.

I had looked forward to the time when I could be trusted to sit alone
with the Indian book. In my excitement over the picture of a red man
tomahawking a child I turned a page so swiftly that I put a long tear in
it. My pleasure was gone. I carefully joined the torn edges and closed
the book and put it on the table and ran and hid behind the barn.

By and by I saw Uncle Peabody coming down the lane with the cows, an ax
on his shoulder. I ran to meet him with a joy in my heart as great as
any I have ever known. He greeted me with a cheerful word and leaned
over me and held me close against his legs and looked into my eyes and
asked:

"Are you willin' to kiss me?"

I kissed him and then he said:

"If ye ever hear me talk like that ag'in, I'll let the stoutest man in
Ballybeen hit me with his ax."

I was not feeling well and went to bed right after supper. As I was
undressing I heard Aunt Deel exclaim: "My heavens! See what that boy has
done to my Indian book--ayes! Ain't that awful!--ayes!"

"Pretend ye ain't noticed it," said Uncle Peabody. "He's had trouble
enough for one day."

A deep silence followed in which I knew that Aunt Deel was probably
wiping tears from her eyes. I went to bed feeling better.

Next day the stage, on its way to Ballybeen, came to our house and left
a box and a letter from Mr. Wright, addressed to my uncle, which read:

"DEAR SIR--I send herewith a box of books and magazines in the hope
that you or Miss Ba