mischief or other."

"No, no, mother," Harry put in, laughing; "you are giving Evan a worse
character than he deserves. He is up to fun, as is only natural with one
who has got the free use of his limbs, but he never does any real harm."

"No, I don't say that he does real harm, 'Arry," Mrs. Holl replied,
"but I do say as at present he is too full of boyish tricks to be of any
good in a place, and we should be a-having him back here a week arter he
went, and that would be a nice show of gratitude to this gentleman for
his kindness."

"I don't suppose he is as bad as you make out, Mrs. Holl; and no doubt
he would tame down after a time, just as other boys do. Perhaps a place
in a warehouse would be more suitable for him at first.

"And it was you who were playing as I came in," he went on, noticing the
violin; "I was wondering who was playing so well. How jolly it must be
to play! I wish I could, but I should never have patience to learn. Who
taught you?"

"I picked it up myself, sir," Harry replied, "from a book father bought
me. You see I have plenty of time on my hands; I don't get out much,
except just along the street, for I can't very well get across crossings
by myself. The wheels go well enough on a level, but I cannot push them
up a curb-stone. But what with reading and fiddling the days pass
quickly enough, especially when mother is at home; she is out two or
three days a week, and then the time seems rather long."

"I should think so," Frank said; "I should go mad if I were laid up
entirely. I am awfully sorry for you. If you are fond of books I shall
be glad to let you have some; I have got no end of them, and there they
stand on my shelf unopened from year's end to year's end. What sort of
books do you like best? Sea stories, or Indians, or what?"

"I should like any story-books, sir," Harry replied, his eyes
brightening up with pleasure; "I have read a few which father has
picked up for me at the bookstalls, and I have gone through and through
them until I could almost say them by heart. And then tales of travel
and history,--oh, I love history! to read what people did hundreds of
years ago, and how nations grew up step by step, just like children, it
is splendid!"

"I am afraid," Frank said, with a laugh, "that I don't care so much for
history as you do. Names are hard enough to remember, but dates are
awful; I would rather do the toughest bit of construing than have a page
of Greek history to ge