hing to-morrow morning. He was
one of those lads that grow everywhere in England, and at twelve or
thirteen years of age look as much alike as goslings,--a lad with a
physiognomy in which it seems impossible to discern anything but the
generic character of boyhood.

"Maggie," said Tom, confidentially, taking her into a corner, as soon as
his mother was gone out to examine his box, and the warm parlor had
taken off the chill he had felt from the long drive, "you don't know
what I've got in my pockets," nodding his head up and down as a means of
rousing her sense of mystery.

"No," said Maggie. "How stodgy they look, Tom! Is it marbles or
cobnuts?" Maggie's heart sank a little, because Tom always said it was
"no good" playing with her at those games--she played so badly.

"Marbles! no; I've swopped all my marbles with the little fellows, and
cobnuts are no fun, you silly, only when the nuts are green. But see
here!" He drew something half out of his right-hand pocket.

"What is it?" said Maggie, in a whisper. "I can see nothing but a bit of
yellow."

"Why, it's--a--new--guess, Maggie!"

"Oh, I can't guess, Tom," said Maggie, impatiently.

"Don't be a spitfire, else I won't tell you," said Tom, thrusting his
hand back into his pocket, and looking determined.

"No, Tom," said Maggie, imploringly, laying hold of the arm that was
held stiffly in the pocket. "I'm not cross, Tom; it was only because I
can't bear guessing. Please be good to me."

[Illustration: The Home Coming.]

Tom's arm slowly relaxed, and he said, "Well, then, it's a new fish
line--two new ones--one for you, Maggie, all to yourself. I wouldn't go
halves in the toffee and gingerbread on purpose to save the money; and
Gibson and Spouncer fought with me because I wouldn't. And here's hooks;
see here!--I say, won't we go and fish to-morrow down by the Round Pool?
And you shall catch your own fish, Maggie, and put the worms on, and
everything--won't it be fun?"

Maggie's answer was to throw her arms around Tom's neck and hug him, and
hold her cheek against his without speaking, while he slowly unwound
some of the line, saying, after a pause:--

"Wasn't I a good brother, now, to buy you a line all to yourself? You
know, I needn't have bought it, if I hadn't liked."

"Yes, very, very good--I do love you, Tom."

Tom had put the line back in his pocket, and was looking at the hooks
one by one, before he spoke again. "And the fellows fought me, becaus