the flesh was of small importance,--he
could hide that from his aunt--but the rent in his trousers was a
serious matter.

"I wish I could git 'em mended 'fore I goes home," he said wistfully.

"I tell you what do," suggested Sam, "I 'low Miss Cecilia'll holp yeh;
jest go by her house an' she'll darn 'em up fer yuh."

Billy hesitated.

"Well, you see, Sam, me an' Miss Cecilia's engaged an' we's fixin' to
marry jes''s soon's I puts on long pants, an' I 'shame' to ask her. An'
I don't berlieve young 'omans patches the breeches of young mans what
they's goin' to marry nohow. Do you? Aunt Minerva ain' never patched no
breeches for the Major. And then," with a modest blush, "my unions is
tore too, an' I ain't got on nothin' else to hide my skin."

Again he turned his back to his friend and, his clouded little face
looking over his shoulder, he asked, "Do my meat show, Sam?"

"She am visible ter the naked eye," and Sam Lamb laughed loudly at his
own wit.

"I don't believe God pays me much attention nohow," said the little
boy dolefully; "ev'y day I gets put to bed 'cause sumpin's all time
a-happenin'. If He'd had a eye on me like He oughter they wouldn't a
been no snaggin'. Aunt Minerva's goin' to be mad th'oo an' th'oo."

"May be my of 'oman can fix 'em, so's dey won't be so turrible bad,"
suggested the negro, "'taint fer, so you jes' run down ter my cabin an'
tell Sukey I say fix dem breeches."

The child needed no second bidding,--he fairly flew. Sam's wife was
cooking, but she cheerfully stopped her work to help the little boy. She
sewed up his union suit and put a bright blue patch on his brown linen
breeches.

Billy felt a little more cheerful, though he still dreaded confessing to
his aunt and he loitered along the way till it was nearly dark. Supper
was ready when he got home and he walked into the diningroom with his
customary ease and grace. But he took his seat uneasily, and he was so
quiet during the meal and ate so little that his aunt asked him if he
were sick. He was planning in his mind how to break the news of the
day's disaster to her.

"You are improving, William," she remarked presently, "you haven't got
into any mischief to-day. You have been a mighty good little boy now for
two days."

Billy flushed at the compliment and shifted uneasily in his seat. That
patch seemed to burn him.

"If God'd jest do His part," he said darkly, "I wouldn't never git in no
meanness."

After supper Miss Min