It is dangerous to
throw stones."

"I had to defend myself, mother. I couldn't let him beat me half to
death. And I told him to keep off or I would strike him with the
stone. I'm sure I wasn't to blame."

"Why, was he going to beat you, Andrew? What did you do to him?"
asked Mrs. Howland.

"I'll tell you, mother," replied the boy. "He was pounding with his
fist a poor little fellow, not half his size, and I couldn't stand
and see it if he was a bigger boy than me. So I took the little
boy's part; and then he turned on me and said he'd beat the life out
of me. I ran from him and tried to get away, but he could run the
fastest, and so I took up a stone and told him to keep off. But he
was mad, and wouldn't keep off. So I struck him with it, and,
mother, I'd do it again to-morrow. No boy shall beat me if I can
defend myself."

"Why didn't you tell your father of this?" asked Mrs. Howland.

"I tried to tell him, but he wouldn't listen to me," said the lad,
with ill-concealed indignation in his voice. "And he never will
listen to me, mother. He believes every word that is said against
me, and flogs me whether I am guilty or not. I'm sure he hates me!"

"Hush! hush my boy! don't say that. Don't speak so of your father."

"Well, I'm sure he don't love me," persisted Andrew.

"Oh, yes, he does love you. He only dislikes what is wrong in you.
My son must try to be a good boy."

"I do try, mother; I try almost every day. But somehow I do wrong
things without thinking. I'm always sorry at first; sorry until
father begins to scold or whip me, and then I don't seem to care
anything about it. Oh, dear! I wish father wasn't always so cross!"

While Andrew thus talked, his tears had ceased to flow; but now they
gushed over his cheeks again, and he leaned his face upon his
mother's bosom. Mrs. Howland drew her arms closely around her
unhappy boy, while her own eyes became wet. For many minutes there
was silence. At last she said, in a kind, earnest voice--

"I've brought you a nice saucer of peaches and cream, Andrew."

"I don't want them, mother," replied the lad.

"You'll be hungry before night, dear. It's nearly school-time now,
and you'll get nothing to eat until you come home again."

"I don't feel at all hungry, mother."

"Just eat them for my sake," urged Mrs. Howland.

Without a word more Andrew took the saucer.

"Ain't they nice?" asked Mrs. Howland, as she saw that her boy
relished the fruit and cream.