ke with.

Long ago I made a motto about boys: Look for a boy anywhere. Never be
surprised when you shake a cherry tree if a boy drops out of it;
never be disturbed when you think yourself in complete solitude if you
discover a boy peering out at you from a fence corner.

I had not been playing long before I saw two boys looking at me from out
of a thicket by the roadside; and a moment later two others appeared.

Instantly I switched into "Marching Through Georgia," and began to
nod my head and tap my toe in the liveliest fashion. Presently one boy
climbed up on the fence, then another, then a third. I continued to
play. The fourth boy, a little chap, ventured to climb up on the fence.

They were bright-faced, tow-headed lads, all in Sunday clothes.

"It's hard luck," said I, taking my whistle from my lips, "to have to
wear shoes and stockings on a warm Sunday like this."

"You bet it is!" said the bold leader.

"In that case," said I, "I will play 'Yankee Doodle.'"

I played. All the boys, including the little chap, came up around me,
and two of them sat down quite familiarly on the grass. I never had a
more devoted audience. I don't know what interesting event might have
happened next, for the bold leader, who stood nearest, was becoming
dangerously inflated with questions--I don't know what might have
happened had we not been interrupted by the appearance of a Spectre in
Black. It appeared before us there in the broad daylight in the middle
of a sunny afternoon while we were playing "Yankee Doodle." First I
saw the top of a black hat rising over the rim of the hill. This was
followed quickly by a black tie, a long black coat, black trousers, and,
finally, black shoes. I admit I was shaken, but being a person of iron
nerve in facing such phenomena, I continued to play "Yankee Doodle."
In spite of this counter-attraction, toward which all four boys turned
uneasy glances, I held my audience. The Black Spectre, with a black book
under its arm, drew nearer. Still I continued to play and nod my head
and tap my toe. I felt like some modern Pied Piper piping away the
children of these modern hills--piping them away from older people who
could not understand them.

I could see an accusing look on the Spectre's face. I don't know what
put it into my head, and I had no sooner said it than I was sorry for my
levity, but the figure with the sad garments there in the matchless and
triumphant spring day affected me with a c