cuit he could not imagine, but it tasted as dry as ashes.

"Why, sonny," said Stephen, "what are you staring at your plate so for?
That's honey. Ever see any before?"

"This is the last chance Steve will have to pester me," thought the
child; and he almost pitied him.

"Guess he'll feel sorry he's been so hard on a little fellow like me."

As for grown-up Seth, it was certain that _his_ conscience would prick,
and on the whole Willy was rather glad of it, for Seth had no right to
correct him so much. "Only eighteen, and not my father either!"

Willy did not think much about himself, and how he would be likely to
feel after he had left this dear old home--the home where every
knot-hole in the floor was precious. It would not do to brood over that;
and besides, there was sullen anger enough in his heart to crowd out
every other feeling.

There were circles in the wood of the shed-door which he had made with a
two-tined fork; and after supper he made some more, while waiting for a
chance to pocket a plate of doughnuts. Of course it wasn't wrong to take
doughnuts, when it was the last morsel he should ever eat from his
mother's cupboard. He had the whole of eighteen cents in his leathern
wallet; but that sum might fail before winter, and it was best to take a
little food for economy's sake.

At quarter of seven he put on his cap, and was leaving the house, when
his father said, severely,--

"Where are you going, young man?"

Mr. Parlin did not mean to be severe, but he usually called Willy a
"young man" when he was displeased with him.

"Going to the post-office, sir, just as I always do."

Willy spoke respectfully,--he had never done otherwise to his
father,--and Mr. Parlin little suspected the tempest that was raging in
the child's bosom.

"Very well; go! but don't be gone long."

"'_Long?_' Don't know what he calls long," thought the little boy.
"P'raps I'll be gone two years; p'raps I'll be gone ten. Calls me a
'young man' after he has whipped me. Guess I _will_ be a young man
before I get back! Guess there won't be any more horsewhippings then!"

And, dizzy with anger, he walked fast to the post office, without
turning his head.

Fred was there, anxiously waiting for him. The two boys greeted each
other with a meaning look, and soon began to move slowly along towards
the guide-board at the turn of the road.

To the people who happened to be looking that way, it seemed natural
enough that Willy and F