now, Honey? You is bawn to see evil sho'!"

* * * * *

And now a glimpse of Edgar Goodfellow--the normal Edgar, whom his chums
saw oftenest and loved best, because they knew him best and understood
him best.

It was a late Autumn Saturday--one of the Saturdays sent from Heaven for
the delight of school-children--bracing, but not cold; and brilliant.
Little Robert Sully looked pensively out of the window thinking what a
fine day it would be for a country tramp, if only he were like other
boys and could take them. But Rob was of frail build and constitution
and could never stand much exertion. In his eyes was the expression of
settled wistfulness that frequent disappointment will bring to the eyes
of a delicate child; in the droop of his mouth there was a touch of
bitterness, for he was thinking that not only did his weak body make it
impossible for him to keep up with the boys, but that it was no doubt, a
relief to the boys to leave him behind--that when he could be with them
he was perhaps a drag on their pleasure. No doubt they would make a
long day of it, this bright, bracing Saturday, for the persimmons and
the fox-grapes were ripe and the chinquapin and chestnut burrs were
opening. Tears of self-pity sprang to his eyes, but they were quickly
dashed away as he heard his name called and saw his beloved Eddie,
flushed and glowing with anticipated pleasure, at the gate.

"Come along, Rob," he was calling. "We are going to the Hermitage woods
for chinquapins, and you must come too. Uncle Billy is going for a load
of pine-tags, and we can ride in his wagon, so it won't tire you."

The other boys were waiting at the corner, all at the highest pitch of
mirth, for they saw that their idol, Eddie, was in one of his happiest
moods, which would mean a morning of unbounded fun to them. And the ride
with old Uncle Billy who, with black and shiny face, beaming upon them
in an excess of kindliness, hair like a full-blown cotton-boll, and
quaint talk, was an unfailing source of delight to them!

The Saturday freedom was in their blood. Off and away they went in the
jolly, rumbling wagon, past houses and gardens, and fields and into the
enchanting, autumn-colored woods, where "Bob Whites" were calling to
each other and nuts were dropping in the rustling leaves or waiting to
be shaken from their open burrs.

As they jolted along, the steady stream of conversation between Edgar
and Uncle Billy was