RYE’S FRITTERS. 121

She promised not to tell Rye’s pretty mother, — not a word ;
and she did n’t.

Jockey promised, too: “Sure’s pop. Would n’t tell.
Never. Not if he had six or five cents, he would n’t tell.”

Rye gave him “ six or five cents” (of Aunt Banger’s) to
seal the compact.

‘* Look a here,”’ began this promising young gentleman, as
soon as they were in the house that night.

“ Hush, Jockey!”

“O, I fergut. No, I won’t,” said Jockey, and fell to eat-
ing his supper. But half-way down his mug of milk he
paused thoughtfully.

“Look a here, mother. Don’t you tell. Rye got her hair
put into fritters in Bosting and paid a dollar for it!”

Now this story has n’t a moral to its name, has it? Ex-
cept that it is true, every word of it; and most true things
have morals, if you look long enough and know how to find
them.

You can’t find any, unless it is that I dont like crimps?
Very likely ; and I am sure I don’t.