hay; and if there was anything he hated, it was spreading
hay after the mowers. "I guess you would n't like it yourself," said
John, "with the stubbs getting into your feet, and the hot sun, and
the men getting ahead of you, all you could do."

Towards evening, once, John was coming along the road home with some
stalks of the sweet-flag in his hand; there is a succulent pith in
the end of the stalk which is very good to eat,--tender, and not so
strong as the root; and John liked to pull it, and carry home what he
did not eat on the way. As he was walking along he met a carriage,
which stopped opposite to him; he also stopped and bowed, as country
boys used to bow in John's day. A lady leaned from the carriage, and
said:

"What have you got, little boy?"

She seemed to be the most beautiful woman John had ever seen; with
light hair, dark, tender eyes, and the sweetest smile. There was
that in her gracious mien and in her dress which reminded John of the
beautiful castle ladies, with whom he was well acquainted in books.
He felt that he knew her at once, and he also seemed to be a sort of
young prince himself. I fancy he did n't look much like one. But of
his own appearance he thought not at all, as he replied to the lady's
question, without the least embarrassment:

"It's sweet-flag stalk; would you like some?"

"Indeed, I should like to taste it," said the lady, with a most
winning smile. "I used to be very fond of it when I was a little
girl."

John was delighted that the lady should like sweet-flag, and that she
was pleased to accept it from him. He thought himself that it was
about the best thing to eat he knew. He handed up a large bunch of
it. The lady took two or three stalks, and was about to return the
rest, when John said:

"Please keep it all, ma'am. I can get lots more."

"I know where it's ever so thick."

"Thank you, thank you," said the lady; and as the carriage started,
she reached out her hand to John. He did not understand the motion,
until he saw a cent drop in the road at his feet. Instantly all his
illusion and his pleasure vanished. Something like tears were in his
eyes as he shouted:

"I don't want your cent. I don't sell flag!"

John was intensely mortified. "I suppose," he said, "she thought I
was a sort of beggar-boy. To think of selling flag!"

At any rate, he walked away and left the cent in the road, a
humiliated boy. The next day he told Jim Gates about it. Jim said
he was g