dying away with a melancholy, dirge-like moan. The old tree
rubbed their leafless branches against the window panes, and the
fowls which had roosted there for the night, were fain to clap their
wings, and make prodigious efforts to preserve their equilibrium.
Mr. Cleveland grew moody and restless, threw down the book in which
he had been reading, kicked one of the andirons till he made the
whole blazing fabric tumble down, and finally called, in an
impatient tone, his boy Tom.

Tom soon popped his head in at the door, and said, "Yer's me, sir."

"Yer's me, indeed!" exclaimed Mr. Cleveland, "what sort of a way is
this to build a fire?"

"I rispec you is bin kick um, sir," said Tom.

"Hey? What? Well! suppose I did bin kick um, if it had been properly
made, it would not have tumbled down. Fix it this minute, sir!"

"I is gwine to fix um now, sir," said Tom, fumbling at the fire.

"Well! fix it, sir, without having so much to say about it; you had
better do more, and say less," said Mr. Cleveland.

"Yes, sir," answered Tom.

"You _will_ keep answering me when there is no occasion!" exclaimed
Mr. Cleveland; "I just wish I had my stick here, I'd crack the side
of your head with it."

"Yer's de stick, sir," said Tom, handing the walking cane out of the
corner.

"Put it down, this instant, sir," said Mr. Cleveland; "how dare you
touch my stick without my leave?"

"I bin tink you bin say you bin want um, sir," said Tom.

"You had better tink about your work, sir, and stop answering me,
sir, or I'll find a way to make you," said Mr. Cleveland. "Bring in
some more light wood, and make the fire, and shut in the window
shutters. Do you hear me, sir?"

"Yes, sir," replied Tom.

"Well, why don't you answer, if you hear, then? How am I to know
when you hear me, if you don't answer?" said Mr. Cleveland.

"I bin tink you bin tell me for no answer you, sir," said Tom.

"I said when there was no occasion, boy; that's what I said,"
exclaimed Mr. Cleveland, reaching for his stick.

"Yes, sir," said Tom, as he went grinning out of the room.

Mr. Cleveland was, in the main, a very kind master, though somewhat
hasty and impatient. Tom and he were for ever sparring, yet neither
could have done without the other; and there was something comical
about Tom's disposition which well suited his master's eccentric and
changeable moods. Tom evidently served as a kind of safety valve for
his master's nervous system, and many an ex