r him and
shook it (it only looks gruesome in the dark, you know) he never
stopped, and he stumbled on the first step, and then he rolled--My! how
he did bump"--and naughty Peter sat down on the stalls and held his
sides for very merriment.

"You ought to be ashamed of yourself," said Gulian sternly, to whom
practical jokes were an utter abomination, "and you deserve to be well
punished. Pompey, stop groaning, and inform me at once whether you have
sustained any injury by your fall."

"Law, Massa Gulian, you tink falling down dat stair gwine to hurt dis
chile?" began Pompey, who entertained a warm affection for the
mischievous Peter and dreaded nothing so much as a scolding from his
master. "Dose stairs don't 'mount to nuffin; ef it had been de area
steps dey moughten be dangerous. Massa knows boys mus' have dey fun:
please 'cuse me for makin' such a bobbery."

"Well, I did it," said Peter sturdily, instantly sobered by the
expression of his uncle's face, and his generous heart touched with
Pompey's defense of his prank, "and nobody helped me, so let's have the
whipping right off before dinner, please, Uncle Gulian, and then I can
eat in peace--even if I am a trifle sore," wound up the sinner ruefully.

Gulian Verplanck's sense of humor was not keen, but the situation was
too much for him, and a queer, grim smile lit up his eyes, as he said
slowly:--

"As Pompey seems more frightened than hurt, and has interceded for you,
I shall not punish you this time, Peter; but recollect that the very
first occasion after this that you see fit to practice a joke on any
member of my household, your skates will be confiscated for the
remainder of the winter," and with a warning glance he followed Kitty
back into his wife's room, leaving Pompey on the staircase, still
rubbing his bruised shins, while the irrepressible Peter indulged once
more in a convulsion of silent laughter which bent him double and
threatened to burst every button off his tightly fitting jacket.

CHAPTER IX

BETTY'S JOURNEY

Mrs. Seymour, having had the advantage of some weeks to form her plans,
had carefully arranged everything for her own comfort, so far as was
possible, and Betty Wolcott, after the first pang of parting was over,
began to enjoy the novelty of the journey most thoroughly. Except for a
few days spent at Lebanon, Betty had never been from home in her life,
and being, as we have seen, a bit of a philosopher in her own quaint
fash