and now the
boys seemed to have gone over to the stronger side, and he had that
bitter feeling of humiliation and disgrace, which is as bitter to a boy
as the sense of defeat ever is to a man.

The weeks went on, and the feeling wore away a little. Still the memory
of that blow rankled in Guy's mind, and made him unsocial and ill at
ease. His mother watched him with some anxiety, but did not interfere.
She had the true wisdom to leave him to learn some of the lessons of
life alone.

At length came the last day of school, followed next day by a picnic, in
which all the scholars, superintended by their teachers, were to join.

Guy Morgan hesitated a little and then concluded to go. The place
selected was a lovely spot, known in all the neighborhood as "the old
mill." It was on the banks of the Quassit River, where the stream ran
fast, and the grass was green, and great trees with drooping boughs shut
away the July sunlight.

Among the rest were Dick Osgood and his little sister Hetty, the one
human being whom he seemed really and tenderly to love. The teacher's
eyes were on him for this one day, and he did not venture to insult the
older scholars or domineer over the little ones. He and Guy kept apart
as much as they conveniently could; and Guy entered into the spirit of
the day, and really enjoyed it much better than he had anticipated.

Dinner was spread on the grass, and though it was eaten with pewter
spoons, and out of crockery of every hue and kind, it was certainly
eaten with greater enjoyment and keener appetite than if it had been
served in the finest dining room.

They made dinner last as long as they could, and then they scattered
here and there, to enjoy themselves as they liked.

[Illustration: _"Guy Morgan caught her by her long, golden hair."_]

On the bridge, just above the falls, stood a little group, fishing.
Among them were Dick Osgood and his sister. Guy Morgan, always deeply
interested in the study of botany, was a little distance away, with one
of the teachers, pulling in pieces a curious flower.

Suddenly a wild cry arose above the sultry stillness of the summer
afternoon and the hum of quiet voices round. It was Dick Osgood's cry:
"She's in, boys! Hetty's in the river, and _I_ can't swim. O, save her!
save her! Will _no_ one try?"

Before the words were out of his lips, they all saw Guy Morgan coming
with flying feet,--a race for life. He unbuttoned coat and vest as he
ran, and cast the