ad expression of countenance until he was out of sight.

"I don't care for anything now!" Such was the ejaculation of Andrew,
pausing, and throwing himself, with a reckless air, upon a
door-step, so soon as he had passed beyond the view of the friend he
had so loved for years, but who now, from some cause unknown to him,
had become suddenly estranged. "I don't care for anything now," he
repeated. "Let them send me to sea, or anywhere else, if they will!
I don't care! I'm not going to school any more! What do I care for
school? I do nothing right, any how! It's scold, scold, or flog,
flog, all the time! Father says he'll beat goodness into me; but I
guess he's beaten it 'amost all out."

With such thoughts passing through his mind, the unhappy boy sat,
with his face down, and his head supported on his hands, for some
two or three minutes, when he was startled by a well-known voice,
whose tones were ever like music to his ears, pronouncing his name.

In an instant he was on his feet. Emily was before him, and her eyes
were now fixed upon his face with a sad expression.

"Andrew," said she, "don't be angry. It isn't my fault."

"What isn't your fault?" eagerly inquired the boy, as he grasped her
hand.

"Father said I mustn't--"

The little girl hesitated. It seemed as if she couldn't utter the
words.

"Said what?"

There was ill-repressed indignation in Andrew's voice.

"Don't be angry! It frightens me when you are angry!" said Emily,
looking distressed.

"What did your father say?" asked the boy, in milder tones.

"He said that I mustn't meet you as I went to school any more,"
replied Emily.

The face of the boy grew crimson, while his lips arched with the
angry indignation that swelled in his bosom. He was about giving a
passionate vent to his feelings, when he was restrained by the look
of distress that overspread the face of his gentle friend, and by
the tears that came slowly stealing from her eyes.

"Ain't I as good?"

Thus far Andrew gave utterance to what was in his thoughts, and
then, seeing the tears of Emily, checked himself and became silent.

"You ain't angry with me, are you?" asked the little girl, laying
her hand upon his, and looking earnestly in his face.

"No; I'm not angry with you, Emily. I'm never angry with you. But
it's hard. I'd rather see you than anybody. I don't care what
becomes of me now! Let them send me to sea if they will!"

At the word "sea" Emily's face grew pale,