eady."

Willy did not respond to this. He did not care very much about
Fred,--nobody did,--and if he should be persuaded to go with him, it
would not be from friendship, most certainly.

"I wouldn't go off and leave mother; 'twould be real mean: but sometimes
I don't like father one bit,--now, that's a fact," burst forth Willy,
with a heaving breast. "I told him I didn't like your cider, and didn't
take but two mugfuls; but he didn't believe a word I said."

"You're a fool to stand it, Billy."

"I won't stand it again--so there!"

"There, that's real Injun grit," said Fred, approvingly; "stick to it."

"Father thinks children are foolish; he hates to hear 'em talk," pursued
Willy; "and then, when you don't talk, he says you're sulky."

"Well, if you go off he won't get a chance to say it again."

"O, but you see, Fred--"

"Pshaw! you _darsn't_!"

"Now, _you're_ not the one to call me a coward, Fred Chase."

"Well, if you _dars_, then come on."

Willy did not answer. He was deliberating; and I wish you to understand
that in a case like this "the child that deliberates is lost."

Without listening to any more of the boys' conversation, we will go
right on to the next chapter, and see what comes of it.

CHAPTER X.

GOING TO SEA.

Seven o'clock was the time appointed to meet, and Willy watched the tall
clock in the front entry with a dreadful sinking at the heart. His
mother was not at the supper-table and he was glad of that. Ever since
muster she had staid in her room, suffering from a bad toothache. As her
face was tied up, and she could not talk, Willy was not quite sure how
she felt.

"How can I tell whether she has been crying or not? Her eyes are
swelled, any way. Perhaps she doesn't care much. She used to love me,
but she thinks I act so bad now that it's no use doing anything with
me. I can't make her understand it at all."

It was a pity he thought of his mother just then, for it was hard
enough, before that, swallowing his biscuit.

"She said to me, out in the orchard, one day,--says she, 'Willy, if a
boy wants to do wrong, he'll find some way to do it;' and I s'pose she
was thinking about me when she said it. S'pose she thinks I'm going to
be bad--mother does. Well, then, I ought to go off out of the way; she
doesn't want me here; what does she want of a bad boy? She'll be glad to
get rid of me; so'll Love."

You see what a hopeless tangle Willy's mind was in. What ailed his
bis