nged to say so to Mrs. Parlin; but somehow she
couldn't; for her little Isaac was not half as good as Willy, though he
hadn't been kissed much since he was big enough to go to school.

"Willy's grandpa Cheever has sent him a splendid present," said Mrs.
Parlin; "it is a drum. His birthday will come next Wednesday; but when I
saw him marching off with Freddy's flageolet under his arm, I really
longed to give him the drum to-day."

"I dare say you did," said Mrs. Lyman, warmly. "We mothers enjoy our
children's presents more than they enjoy them themselves."

Then she and Mrs. Parlin exchanged a pleasant smile, for they two
understood each other remarkably well.

Willy received his drum on the fifteenth of September, his tenth
birthday, and was prouder than General Washington at the surrender of
Lord Cornwallis. No more borrowed flageolets for him. He put so much
soul into the drumsticks that the noise was perfectly deafening. He
called the family to breakfast, dinner, and supper, to the tune of "Hail
Columbia," or "Fy! let us a' to the wedding!" and nearly distracted
Quaker Liddy by making her roll out her pie-crust to the exact time of
"Yankee Doodle."

"I don't see the sense of such a con-tin-oo-al thumping, you little
dear," said she.

"That's 'cause you're a Quaker," cried Willy. "But I tell you while my
name's Willy Parlin this drum _shall_ be heard."

Poor Liddy stopped her ears.

"What you smiling for, mother?" said Willy. "Are you pleased to think
you've got a little boy that can pound music so nice?"

"Not exactly that, my son. I was wondering whether there is room enough
out of doors for that drum."

"Why, mother!" exclaimed the little soldier much chagrined. "Why,
mother!"

Everybody else had complained of the din; but he thought she, with her
fine musical taste, must be delighted. After this pointed slight he did
not pound so much in the house, and the animals got more benefit of the
noise. Towler enjoyed it hugely; and the cows might have kept step to
the pasture every morning, and the hens every night to the roost, if
they had had the least ear for music. Siller Noonin, who believed in
witches, began to think the boy was "possessed." Love laughed, and said
she did not believe that; but she was afraid Willy spoke the truth every
day when he said so stoutly,--

"While my name is Willy Parlin, this drum _shall_ be heard."

She wondered if parchment would ever wear out.

He drummed with so much