im up
the shore, and plumped him down with his back to the sea and his
castle, to sit in disgrace and listen, while she told the assembled
nurses what a 'born _h_imp of _h_evil' he was! I could have slain that
woman! And I knew my little Boy Blue had no dear mother of his own. I
wanted to take him in my arms, smooth his tumbled curls, and comfort
him. And all this time he had not uttered a sound. He had just
explained to me that he always did his own carrying, and evidently he
had learned to bear his childish sorrows in silence. I watched the
little disconsolate blue back, usually so gaily erect, now round with
shame and woe. Then I bethought me of something I could do. I made
quite sure he was not peeping round. Then I went and found the chosen
stone, and it was heavy indeed! I carried it to the breakwater, and
deposited it carefully within the courtyard of the castle. Then I sat
down behind the breakwater, on the other side, and waited. I felt sure
Little Boy Blue would come back for his spade and bucket.

"Presently the nurses grew tired of bullying him. The strength of his
quiet non-resistance proved greater than their superior numbers and
brute force. Also his intelligent little presence was, undoubtedly, a
check upon their gossip. So he was told he might go; I conclude, on
the understanding that he should 'be a good boy' and carry no more
'nasty heavy stones.' I saw him rise and shake the dust of the nurses'
circle off his little feet! Then he pushed back his curls, and,
without looking to the right or to the left, trotted straight to his
castle. I wondered he did not glance, however hopelessly, in the
supposed direction of the desired stone. But, no! He came gaily on;
and the light of a great expectation shone in his brown eyes.

"When he reached the breakwater, and found his castle, there--safely in
the courtyard--reposed the mighty cannon-ball. He stood still a
moment, looking at it; and his cheeks went very pink. Then he pulled
off his little cap, and turned his radiant face up to the blue sky,
flecked with fleeting white clouds. And--'Fank de Lord,' said my
Little Boy Blue."

There were unconcealed tears in the Aunt's kind eyes, and she
controlled her quiet voice with difficulty. But the glory of a great
gladness had come over the Boy. Without as yet explaining itself in
words, it rang in his voice and laughter.

"I remember," he said. "Why, of course I remember! Not you, worse