Who done it, did you hear 'em say?"

"I don't know who did it; and I should be sorry to accuse any person of
such an act," Vinnie answered with firm but serene dignity.

The boys looked more sheepish and giggled less.

"I know who put stuff in the spring," spoke up a little one, proud of
being able to convey useful information; "Dud and Zeph--"

But at that moment Dud's hand stopped the prattler's mouth.

"I don't believe my boys have done anything of the kind," said Peakslow;
"though 't wouldn't be strange if they did. See how that great lubberly
Rufe treated our Zeph yist'day! rubbed the dirt into his skin so 't he
hain't got it washed out yit."

"I am sorry for these misunderstandings," said Vinnie, turning to Mrs.
Peakslow with an appealing look. "I wish you and my sister knew each
other better. You have a sick child, too, I see."

"'T ain't sick, 'xac'ly," replied the mother in a peevish, snarling
tone. "Pulled over the teapot, and got hands and arms scalt."

"O, poor little thing!" Vinnie exclaimed. "What have you done for it?"

"Hain't done nothin' much, only wrapped up the blistered places in Injin
meal; that's coolin'."

"No doubt; but I've some salve, the best thing in the world for burns. I
wish you would let me bring you some."

"I guess Bubby'll git along 'thout no help from outside," said Peakslow,
his ill-natured growl softened by a feeling of tenderness for the child
which just then came over him. "He's weathered the wust on 't."

But Bubby's fretful cries told that what was left was bad enough.

"I will bring you the salve," said Vinnie, "and I hope you will try it;
it is so hard to see these little ones suffer."

She was retiring, when Peakslow called after her,--

"Goin' 'ithout the water?"

"I--thought--you had not told me I could have it."

"Have it! of course you can have it; I wouldn't refuse nobody a pail o'
water. Ye see where the well is?"

"O yes; thank you." And Vinnie hastened to the curb.

"She can't draw it," snickered Zeph. "Handle's broke; and the crank'll
slip out of her hands and knock her to Jericho, if she don't look out."

"Seems to be a perty spoken gal," said Peakslow, turning to finish his
breakfast. "I've nothin' ag'in _her_. You've finished your breakfast;
better go out, Dudley, and tell her to look out about the crank."

With mixed emotions in his soul, Dud went; his countenance enlivened at
one and the same time with a blush of boyish bashfulness and a