it ain't no such rememberin' nor
Bible texes that keeps me cool. It's lots of other things. First, I do
want awful bad to do credit to Miss Milly; then I don't want to fight
Theodore, nor have a real sharp fallin' out, on account of the captain
an' Mrs. Yorke; then I'm thinkin', if I don't learn to hold my temper
now, how will it be if I come to be President of these States? I s'pose
there's lots of things that'll be provokin', an' hard to stand, when
you're President; and if Congress don't want to mind you right spang
off when you tell 'em to do a thing, an' goes to foolin' round about
it, I s'pose it don't do to be flyin' out, 'cause then folks would
think you wasn't fit to be President. Besides, when one's mad he can't
think about the best way to do things, an' I might make foolish laws
they wouldn't like. But most of all it will be a great deal better way
to get even with Theodore if I come out first with Mr.----"

Here he suddenly checked himself, and even in the dim twilight I could
see the color mounting to the roots of his carroty hair. He had
evidently been on the verge of some disclosure which he would have
regretted, and no questions succeeded in drawing forth any thing
further from him.

He had been sufficiently candid, however, in admitting that he was not
influenced, in the struggle with himself, by any abstract notions of
right and wrong, or by any special desire to please a higher power. But
that he had some motive still undeclared, and of greater weight with
him than any of those he had mentioned, I was convinced; and why should
he wish to keep it back?

However, my cogitations on the subject, and Jim's confidences, were now
cut short by the appearance at the corner, of another escort, who took
charge of me at once with a very decided remonstrance against my
remaining out till this hour "with only the protection of that boy."

This was a slight which would have wounded Jim to the quick had he
heard it, which he fortunately did not, as it was spoken in an
undertone; and he was evidently pleased to be freed from an attendance
which had become embarrassing to him by his own indiscretion.

"What do you suppose he could have meant?" I asked of Milly that night,
after I had rehearsed to her, in the privacy of our own room, my
conversation with Jim.

"I am sure I do not know," said my sister. "If it were possible, I
should think he meant uncle Rutherford's prize; but as he does not and
can not know of