into the
street to go toward it, so surely did the boy Bog walk off whistling in
another direction. Nobody can understand the motives of Bog's conduct,
except those who have done the same thing in their youthful days.

On this eventful afternoon (eventful as a starting point in a history of
sorrows), Bog had taken his usual circuitous route home from a
profitable professional tour on the east side of town. Reaching the
grocery store, he sheltered himself behind the friendly post, and
commenced looking up and down the street, and across the way, and into
the sky, always winding up his mysterious observations by a single
glance at Miss Pillbody's front door. When Pet came out, after her
musical exercise, the boy Bog flushed up a little, turned upon his
heels, and walked quickly away. He had not gone a dozen steps, before
the shouts of the workmen and the sound of the first falling board
reached his ears. He suddenly turned about, and saw a young man catching
the next board that fell. His first impulse was to run to Pet's
assistance; but a fatal spell chained his feet.

Poor Bog had dreamed a thousand times, by night and by day, of the
ineffable bliss of rescuing Pet from a mad dog, from a runaway horse,
from the assault of ruffians, from drowning, from a burning building. He
had his plans all laid for doing every one of these things. He would
have coveted the pleasure of whipping three times his weight of any
well-dressed, white-handed young men, who should presume to insult her.
In imagination, he had done it times without number; and had contrived a
private method to double up a number of effeminate antagonists in
succession. But, in all his reveries, he had never anticipated peril to
Miss Minford from a falling board; nor had it occurred to him that the
supreme felicity of saving her from death or injury would ever be the
lot of anybody else.

The entire novelty of the accident and rescue struck him with amazement,
and fastened him to the spot long enough to see that Pet walked away
apparently unhurt. Hardly knowing what he did, or why he did it, he
shifted his body behind the awning post so as continually to keep
himself out of Pet's sight. Then the strong conviction came upon him
that it was his duty to escort Pet home; for, although she did not seem
to be hurt, she might be. This conviction was met and almost put down by
the thought that Pet would know he had been watching for her; and he
could not bear that. Whi