hat any one should carry him but his sister, and refused
Tom's kindness. Still he could carry the heavy basket of potatoes for
the little girl, which he did as far as their road lay together, when
she thanked him, and bade him good-by, and said she could manage very
well now, her home was so near. So Tom went into school very happy and
peaceful; and had a good character to take home to his mother for that
morning's lesson.

It happened that this very day was the weekly half-holiday, so that Tom
had many hours unoccupied that afternoon. Of course, his first
employment after dinner was to learn his lessons for the next day; and
then, when he had put his books away, he began to wonder what he should
do next.

He stood lounging against the door wishing all manner of idle wishes;
a habit he was apt to fall into. He wished he were the little boy
who lived opposite, who had three brothers ready to play with him on
half-holidays; he wished he were Sam Harrison, whose father had taken
him one day a trip by the railroad; he wished he were the little boy who
always went with the omnibuses,--it must be so pleasant to go riding
about on the step, and to see so many people; he wished he were a
sailor, to sail away to the countries where grapes grew wild, and
monkeys and parrots were to be had for the catching. Just as he was
wishing himself the little Prince of Wales, to drive about in a
goat-carriage, and wondering if he should not feel very shy with the
three great ostrich-feathers always niddle-noddling on his head, for
people to know him by, his mother came from washing up the dishes, and
saw him deep in the reveries little boys and girls are apt to fall into
when they are the only children in a house.

"My dear Tom," said she, "why don't you go out, and make the most of
this fine afternoon?"

"Oh, mother," answered he (suddenly recalled to the fact that he was
little Tom Fletcher, instead of the Prince of Wales, and consequently
feeling a little bit flat), "it is so dull going out by myself. I have
no one to play with. Can't you go with me, mother--just this once, into
the fields?"

Poor Mrs. Fletcher heartily wished she could gratify this very natural
desire of her little boy; but she had the shop to mind, and many a
little thing besides to do; it was impossible. But however much she
might regret a thing, she was too faithful to repine. So, after a
moment's thought, she said, cheerfully, "Go into the fields for a walk,
a