ly has too many masters and mistresses. Next time you see him doing
what you think is wrong, let me know it, but don't scold him!"

Mrs. Parlin had said this before, but it was something Seth never could
remember.

Willy sold the iron, returned a bright new quarter to Miss Judkins, and
felt happy again, especially as there were ten cents left, which his
father kindly allowed him to keep.

Gideon Noonin never confessed his crime, and after this Willy was very
careful to keep away from him. But there was another boy, nearer his own
age, who had quite as bad an influence over him--Fred Chase. He
afterwards became a worthless young man, and made his mother so wretched
that Siller Noonin said, "Poor Mrs. Chase, she has everything heart can
wish, except a bottle to put her tears in."

Fred was a well-mannered, pretty little fellow, and no one thought ill
of him, because he was so sly with his mischief. He did harm to Willy by
making him think he had a very hard time. His work was to bring in a
bushel basket of chips every morning, and fill the "fore-room"
wood-box. Of course the "back-log" and "back-stick," and "fore-stick"
were all too heavy for his little arms, and Caleb attended to those.
Freddy had nothing whatever to do, and pretended to pity Willy.

"They 'pose upon you," said he. "I never'd stand it."

Until Freddy told him he was imposed upon, Willy had never suspected it;
but, after that, he saw he had nearly all the work to do, and that Seth
and Stephen did not help as much as they might. The more he reflected
upon the subject, the more unhappy he grew, and the more he lingered
over his wood and chips.

"Did you ever hear of the little boy and the two pails of water?" said
his mother.

"O, what about him, mamma? Do tell me."

"Why, the boy was told to draw two pails of water from the well; but
instead of drawing them he sat down and dreaded it, till he pined away,
and pined away, and finally died."

Willy ran out with his basket, and never asked again to hear the story
of the boy and the two pails. But the wood-pile seemed to be lying on
top of his heart, crushing him, till he was relieved by a bright idea.

Why not stand some sticks upright in the bottom of the box, and then lay
the rest of the wood on top of them? It would look just the same as
usual; but _what_ a help!

The box was in the entry, and the "fore-room" door shut; he could cheat
as well as not.

"Now I'll have lots of time to play!"