read or work--or think--vigilantly, in that
hazy sunshine?--the very bees took a siesta on the wing, and rocked to
and fro in the soft air.

About the middle of the afternoon a small white-headed boy was seen
revolving down the main street of Pattaquasset. I say revolving--for
the slight suggestion of a small stone in the road--or a spot of
particular dustiness--was enough to make the boy break the monotony of
his walk with a somerset; by which style of progress he at last arrived
at Mrs. Derrick's door, entered the gate and came up the steps. There
he paused and gazed at Mr. Linden.

"What is your name?" inquired that gentleman, with the benevolent idea
of setting the boy's thoughts in motion in a straight line.

"Charles twelf'" replied the boy promptly.

"Charles twelfth!" said Mr. Linden. "Are there eleven more of you?"

The boy put his finger in his mouth but brought forth no answer.

"Miss Faith," said Mr. Linden, "are you the planet which has attracted
this small star out of its usual orbit?"

Faith came to the door.

"Who are you, little fellow?" said she, eying the dusty white head.

"Who be you?" said the boy.

"The centre of your solar system at present," said Mr. Linden. "Is that
the way satellites generally ask questions?"

"What a queer man!" said the boy looking at Mr. Linden.

"What a queer boy--" said that gentleman gravely.

"What do you want?" said Faith, biting her lips and laughing at both of
them.

The boy gazed at her, but he also gazed at the scraper!--and the
attraction of that was irresistible. Down went his white head, and over
went his dusty feet, and then Charles twelfth was himself again.

"My ma' kep' your 'ma to supper," he said. "And she says you may come
too, if you want ter--and bring _him_. We've got lots o' pies." And
stimulated by this recollection, the boy turned without delay and began
his revolutions homeward. Faith ran down the two or three porch steps
and laid hold of the little invader.

"Here! You Charles twelfth!--who are you, and where does your ma' live?"

"She lives down to our house."

"Where's that?"

"Down the woody road--" said the boy,--"next after you come to Capting
Samp's blackberry field. There's sunflowers in front."

"Then you are Mrs. Seacomb's boy? Very well," said Faith, letting him
go. "Mr. Linden, there is an invitation for you."

"Is there a carriage road into Sweden? or do we walk?" he replied.

"Sweden?"--said Faith,--"it is i