day. It was the more to be regretted, as he sat in one
of the "amen pews," not far from the pulpit; and if the medal might only
hang outside his jacket, where it ought, Elder Lovejoy would certainly
catch sight of it when he turned round, and looked through his
spectacles, saying, "And now, seventhly, my dear hearers."

Willy would sit, to-morrow, swelling with secret pride, and wishing
Elder Lovejoy's eyes were sharp enough to pierce through his jacket. But
then, as he told his mother, he "liked the feeling of the medal, even
if it _was_ covered up." I suppose there was some satisfaction in
knowing he was more of a boy than people took him to be.

"Wonder what it is that Mrs. Lyman says is too true," thought Willy,
taking a piece of chalk out of his pocket, and drawing a profile of Miss
Judkins on the door-sill, while that young lady tripped along the road,
brushing the golden-rod and sweet-fern with the skirt of her dress.

"Now stop that, Gid Noonin," said he, as a large boy came up behind him,
and tickled him under the arms. "Stop that!" repeated he, making chalk
figures, as he spoke, in the ample nose of Miss Judkins.

"7ber 18001," scrawled he, slowly and carefully. "7ber" was short for
September; and Gideon could find no fault with that, for people often
wrote it so; but he could not help laughing at the extra cipher in the
year 1801.

"Give me that chalk," chuckled he; and then he wrote, in bold
characters, "7ber the 15th, 1801."

Willy dropped his head. He had not learned to write; but did he want to
be taught by that great Gid Noonin, the stupidest boy in school? Why, he
had gone above Gid long ago, just by spelling "exact." Gideon spelt it
e, g, z! Did you ever hear of anything so silly? And he a fellow twelve
years old! Willy was just eight, but he hoped he could spell! If you
doubted it, there was the medal!

Gideon was not only a poor scholar,--he was regarded as a bad boy, and
many mothers warned their little sons not to play with him.

"Look here, Billy, what you up to this afternoon? Going anywhere?"

"Only up to the store, I guess. Why?"

"O, nothing partic'lar. Just asked for fun."

"Well, give back that piece of chalk," said Willy, "for it isn't mine.
Steve keeps it in his pocket to rub his shoe-buckles with."

Gideon laughed, but would not return the chalk till he had whitened
Willy's jacket with it and the top of his hat. He never seemed to mean
any harm, but just to be running over wi