d not have told the sensation it gave her. Wilford could not
have told, either, just how he felt when he saw his mother. But both
Mrs. Ducker and her son had a distinct sensation when they met that
morning.

She called Wilford, and he came. No sooner had he left his seat than
Patsey Watson took his place. Wilford dared not ask for the return of
the knife: his mother would know that he had had dealings with Patsey
Watson, and his account at the maternal bank was already overdrawn.

Mrs. Ducker was more sorrowful than angry.

"Wilford!" she said with great dignity, regarding the downcast little
boy with exaggerated scorn, "and you a Ducker!"

She escorted the fallen Ducker sadly homeward, but, oh, so glad that
she had saved him from the corroding influence of the butcher boy.

While Wilford Ducker was unfastening the china buttons on his waist,
preparatory to a season of rest and retirement, that he might the
better ponder upon the sins of disobedience and evil associations,
Patsey Watson was opening and shutting his new knife proudly.

"It was easy done," he was saying to himself. "I'm kinder sorry I jewed
him down now. Might as well ha' let him have the week. Sure, there's no
luck in being mane."

CHAPTER XI

HOW PEARL WATSON WIPED OUT THE STAIN

Mrs. Motherwell felt bitterly grieved with Polly for failing her just
when she needed her the most; "after me keepin' her and puttin' up with
her all summer," she said. She began to wonder where she could secure
help. Then she had an inspiration!

The Watsons still owed ten dollars on the caboose. The eldest Watson
girl was big enough to work. They would get her. And get ten dollars'
worth of work out of her if they could.

The next Saturday night John Watson announced to his family that old
Sam Motherwell wanted Pearlie to go out and work off the caboose debt.

Mrs. Watson cried, "God help us!" and threw her apron over her head.

"Who'll keep the dandrew out of me hair?" Mary said tearfully, "if
Pearlie goes away?"

"Who'll make me remember to spit on me warts?" Bugsey asked.

"Who'll keep house when ma goes to wash?" wee Tommy wailed dismally.

Danny's grievance could not be expressed in words. He buried his tousy
head in Pearl's apron, and Pearl saw at once that her whole house were
about to be submerged in tears, idle tears.

"Stop your bleatin', all of yez!" she commanded in her most
authoritative voice. "I will go!" she said, with blazing eyes. "I