mother. O, dear! O, dear!"

He was still at the tender age when little boys believe their mammas can
help them out of any kind of trouble. True, he had been naughty and
disobedient; but if he said he was sorry, wouldn't her arms open to take
him in? He was sorry now,--no doubt of that,--and was running home with
all speed, when the sight of his father in the distance reminded him of
his errand, and he rushed back to the store for the codfish and
mackerel.

"What makes your hair so wet, bubby?" asked Daddy Wiggins, rolling the
fish in brown paper. "Haven't been in swimming--have you?"

"Don' know," stammered Willy, darting out of the store.

If his hair was wet it wouldn't do to go home till it was dry; for his
father would find out that he had been in the brook, and the next thing
in order would be a whipping. It was hard enough to lose the medal;
Willy thought a whipping would be more than he could bear, for it was
always given with a horsewhip out in the barn; and the unlucky boy could
never help envying the cows, as they looked on, chewing their cuds with
such an air of content and unconcern. Cows never were punished, nor
sheep either. Good times they had--that's a fact. _Sheep_ wouldn't mind
a real heavy horse-whipping, they were done up so in wool; but when a
little boy had to take off his jacket, why, there wasn't much over his
skin to keep off the smart. Ugh! how it did hurt!

There was another advantage in being a sheep, or a cow, or a hen;
animals of that sort never lost anything--didn't have medals to lose.

"And this wasn't mine," groaned Willy. "What'll the mistress do to me?
Don' know; blister both hands, I s'pose!"

Willy had intended to play ball with the little boys, but it was not to
be thought of now. Putting his fish behind a tree, he ran to the brook
again and poked with a stick as far as he could reach; then waded in up
to his knees, for the medal might have rolled out of his pocket.

"No, it couldn't; for my breeches were tucked in up there between two
rocks."

Suddenly he recollected Gideon's going back to the bank.

"That wicked, mean boy!" almost screamed Willy. "He stole my medal! I'll
go right off and tell mother!"

Mrs. Parlin had on her afternoon cap, and was sitting alone in the
well-sanded "fore-room," doing the mending, and singing,--

"While shepherds watched their flocks by night,
All seated on the ground,"--

when Willy, with his pantaloons tucked up to his kne