r fear he'd follow and come walkin' into
meetin' to find me."

"Yes, indeed; let the clever Bow-wow have a good time and enjoy Sunday
as much as I want my boys to."

Quite content with this arrangement, Ben went home to dinner, which he
made very lively by recounting Billy Barton's ingenious devices to
beguile the tedium of sermon time. He said nothing of his conversation
with Miss Celia, because he had not quite made up his mind whether he
liked it or not; it was so new and serious, he felt as if he had better
lay it by, to think over a good deal before he could understand all
about it. But he had time to get dismal again, and long for four
o'clock; because he had nothing to do except whittle. Mrs. Moss went to
take a nap; Bab and Betty sat demurely on their bench reading Sunday
books; no boys were allowed to come and play; even the hens retired
under the currant-bushes, and the cock stood among them, clucking
drowsily, as if reading them a sermon.

"Dreadful slow day!" thought Ben; and, retiring to the recesses of his
own room, he read over the two letters which seemed already old to him.
Now that the first shock was over, he could not make it true that his
father was dead, and he gave up trying; for he was an honest boy, and
felt that it was foolish to pretend to be more unhappy than he really
was. So he put away his letters, took the black pocket off Sanch's neck,
and allowed himself to whistle softly as he packed up his possessions,
ready to move next day, with few regrets and many bright anticipations
for the future.

"Thorny, I want you to be good to Ben, and amuse him in some quiet way
this afternoon. I must stay and see the Morrises, who are coming over;
but you can go to the grove and have a pleasant time," said Miss Celia
to her brother.

"Not much fun in talking to that horsey fellow. I'm sorry for him, but I
can't do anything to amuse him," objected Thorny, pulling himself up
from the sofa with a great yawn.

"You can be very agreeable when you like; and Ben has had enough of me
for this time. To-morrow he will have his work, and do very well; but we
must try to help him through to-day, because he doesn't know what to do
with himself. Besides, it is just the time to make a good impression on
him, while grief for his father softens him, and gives us a chance. I
like him, and I'm sure he wants to do well; so it is our duty to help
him, as there seems to be no one else."

"Here goes, then! Where is he