his former friends, and could not make out how he
disposed of himself. To be thus continually shunned by his own brother,
even when the general mass were returning to ordinary terms, became
so painful, that Norman was always on the watch to seek for one more
conversation with him.

He caught him at last in the evening, just as they were going home.
"Tom, why are you running away? Come with me," said he authoritatively;
and Tom obeyed in trembling.

Norman led the way to the meads. "Tom," said he, "do not let this go on.
Why do you serve me in this way? You surely need not turn against me,"
he said, with pleading melancholy in his voice.

It was not needed. Tom had flung himself upon the grass, and was in an
agony of crying, even before he had finished the words.

"Tom, Tom! what is the matter? Have they been bullying you again? Look
up, and tell me--what is it? You know I can stand by you still, if
you'll only let me;" and Norman sat by him on the grass, and raised his
face by a sort of force, but the kind words only brought more piteous
sobs. It was a long time before they diminished enough to let him utter
a word, but Norman went on patiently consoling and inquiring, sure, at
least, that here had broken down the sullenness that had always repelled
him.

At last came the words, "Oh! I cannot bear it. It is all my doing!"

"What--how--you don't mean this happening to me? It is not your doing,
August--what fancy is this?"

"Oh, yes, it is," said Tom, his voice cut short by gasps, the remains
of the sobs. "They would not hear me! I tried to tell them how you
told them not, and sent them home. I tried to tell about
Ballhatchet--but--but they wouldn't--they said if it had been Harry,
they would have attended--but they would not believe me. Oh! if Harry
was but here!"

"I wish he was," said Norman, from the bottom of his heart; "but you
see, Tom, if this sets you on always telling truth, I shan't think any
great harm done."

A fresh burst, "Oh, they are all so glad! They say such things! And the
Mays were never in disgrace before. Oh, Norman, Norman!"

"Never mind about that--" began Norman.

"But you would mind," broke in the boy passionately, "if you knew what
Anderson junior and Axworthy say! They say it serves you right, and they
were going to send me to old Ballhatchet's to get some of his stuff to
drink confusion to the mouth of June, and all pragmatical meddlers; and
when I said I could not go, they vowe