had punishment a-plenty, I guess, in her bein' so
sick."

"All right," the doctor said magnanimously. "There's one thing I 'll
give you, Jake: you're a man of your word, if you ARE a Dutch hog!"

"A--WHATEVER?" Mr. Getz angrily demanded.

"And I don't see," the doctor complacently continued, rising and
pulling his hat down to his eyebrows, preparatory to leaving, "where
Tillie gets her fibbin' from. Certainly not from her pop."

"I don't mind her ever tellin' me no lie before."

"Och, Jake, you drive your children to lie to you, the way you bring
'em up to be afraid of you. They GOT to lie, now and again, to a feller
like you! Well, well," he soothingly added as he saw the black look in
the father's face at the airing of such views in the presence of his
children, "never mind, Jake, it 's all in the day's work!"

He turned for a parting glance at Tillie. "She 's better. She 'll be
well till a day or two, now, and back to school--IF she's kep' quiet,
and her mind ain't bothered any. Now, GOOD-by to yous."

VII

"THE LAST DAY OF PUMP-EYE"

For a long time after her unhappy experiences with "Ivanhoe" Tillie did
not again venture to transgress against her father's prohibition of
novels. But her fear of the family strap, although great, did not equal
the keenness of her mental hunger, and was not sufficient, therefore,
to put a permanent check upon her secret midnight reading, though it
did lead her to take every precaution against detection. Miss Margaret
continued to lend her books and magazines from time to time, and in
spite of the child's reluctance to risk involving the teacher in
trouble with the School Board through her father, she accepted them.
And so during all this winter, through her love for books and her
passionate devotion to her teacher, the little girl reveled in feasts
of fancy and emotion and this term at school was the first season of
real happiness her young life had ever known.

Once on her return from school the weight of a heavy volume had proved
too great a strain on her worn and thin undergarment during the long
walk home; the skirt had torn away from the band, and as she entered
the kitchen, her stepmother discovered the book. Tillie pleaded with
her not to tell her father, and perhaps she might have succeeded in
gaining a promise of secrecy had it not happened that just at the
critical moment her father walked into the kitchen.

Of course, then the book was handed over to hi