RX
ut

Flaymaking.
taken for granted that I was hindered from coming
at this busy time of year. And then Tommy, out
of whose way I had kept while my bad temper
lasted, brought me a pocketful of gooseberries
and a long Indian letter from his parents, for it
was signed by both of them, and told me that he
wanted me to help him write an answer, by-
and-by, when he had time. Razzy Evans did the
last, he said, and would not let him put in what he
wanted, but stuffed it all up with “I hopes this
finds you well,” and “ As it leaves me at present.”
I thought I should like to write a letter better than
Razzy—I believed I could, too—and by way of
preparation, I begged leave from Mr. Hurst to read

 

the letters of Cicero.

One hot thundery day I was lying under a hedge
with a lesson-book in my hand, but not doing
much, for my thoughts were disturbed by the
merry haymaking noise going on ina field not far
off. Presently the first cart-load passed me on its
way to the owner’s haggart, and on the top stood
Tommy, glowing and glorious, every garment
thrown off that could be dispensed with, his sleeves
rolled up, and his shirt-front thrown open, balancing
himself, and shouting as they went. He caught
sight of me, and in a moment he had scrambled
down, I cannot guess how, and was by my side.