n the nests of a pigeon's cote: he
stretched himself to reach the ceiling; but, much as he had grown, this
was still out of the question. His mother hastened to make a soup for
him and a "parson's roast," as a pancake is called in those parts,
because it is the dish generally got up for sudden and unexpected
visitors at a parsonage.

Having given his mother one of the "pretzels," Ivo went to the stable
to talk to Nat. The beasts seemed to recognise him: the cow
particularly was pleased to turn her head toward him and let him tickle
her forehead.

"Haven't you brought me any thing?" asked Nat, smiling. Ivo found the
remaining pretzel in his pocket and handed it to him in silence. He was
thus relieved of the scruple which troubled him, that it might be wrong
for him to make Emmerence a present: on returning to the kitchen,
however, he heard Emmerence say,--

"Well, aunty, what are you going to give me for bringing you the good
news?"

"Take the pretzel he brought for me: Ivo knows I am as thankful as if I
had eaten it, but my teeth are giving out."

Ivo was but too well pleased to know that Emmerence had something from
him, and highly indignant that the squalling baby forthwith laid her
under contribution for half the prize. The baby found but little favor
in his eyes at any time: it was so large that when Emmerence carried
it--as it always insisted on her doing--she seemed in constant danger
of losing her balance and falling. So he said, with some solemnity,--

"You do a sin against yourself and against the baby, Emmerence, if you
drag it about all the time: it has strong feet, and ought to learn to
walk; and you will drag yourself crooked if you go on so."

She set the child down instantly, and did not take it up again in spite
of its crying. Wasn't Ivo a young parson now? and hadn't he said it was
a sin?

This little reprimand was almost the only interest Ivo manifested in
her to the end of the holidays. So much, he thought, his conscience
could not possibly disapprove; but he would not go further. The eyes of
the girl were often fixed on him, as if to inquire the cause of his
studied indifference. Once only, in a favored moment, he asked, "What
has become of your puss?"

"Why, only think, that tinker Caspar, 'the Dog Caspar,' stole it and
took its pretty black hide off, and ate poor pussy."

[Illustration: People walked up to him and took him by the hand.]

In the afternoon Ivo enjoyed the full honor of