was one among them,--Azalia
Adams,--who stood at the head of Paul's class, the best reader and
speller in school. She had ruby lips, and cheeks like roses; the golden
sunlight falling upon her chestnut hair crowned her with glory; deep,
thoughtful, and earnest was the liquid light of her hazel eyes; she was
as lovely and beautiful as the flower whose name she bore. Paul had
drawn her picture many times,--sometimes bending over her task,
sometimes as she sat, unmindful of the hum of voices around her, looking
far away into a dim and distant dream-land. He never wearied of tracing
the features of one so fair and good as she. Her laugh was as musical as
a mountain-brook; and in the church on Sunday, when he heard her voice
sweetly, softly, and melodiously mingling with the choir, he thought of
the angels,--of her as in heaven and he on earth.

"Run home, sonny, and tell your marm that you got a licking," said
Philip when school was out.

Paul's face became livid. He would have doubled his fist and given
Philip a blow in the face, but his palms were like puff-balls. There was
an ugly feeling inside, but just then a pair of bright hazel eyes,
almost swimming with tears, looked into his own. "Don't mind it, Paul,"
said Azalia.

The pain was not half so hard to bear after that. He wanted to say, "I
thank you," but did not know how. Till then his lips had hardly
quivered, and he had not shed a tear; now his eyes became moist; one
great drop rolled down his cheeks, but he wiped it off with his
coat-sleeve, and turned away, for fear that Azalia would think that he
was a baby.

On his way home the thought uppermost in his mind was, "What will mother
say?" Why tell her? Would it not be better to keep the matter to
himself? But then he remembered that she had said, "Paul, I shall expect
you to tell me truthfully all that happens to you at school." He loved
his mother. She was one of the best mothers that ever lived, working for
him day and night. How could he abuse such confidence as she had given
him? He would not violate it. He would not be a sneak.

His mother and the Pensioner were sitting before the fire as he entered
the house. She welcomed him with a smile,--a beautiful smile it was, for
she was a noble woman, and Paul was her darling, her pride, the light,
joy, and comfort of her life.

"Well, Paul, how do you get on at school?" his grandfather asked.

"I got a whipping to-day." It was spoken boldly and manfully.