Little Grandfather Part 7

"O, because I've got such a sore throat," wheezed Gideon. "Off with you!

Scamper!"

Upon that Gid took to his heels, and left Master w.i.l.l.y staring at him, and wondering what a sore throat had to do with swimming, and what made Gid in such a hurry all in a minute.

"He's a queer fellow--Gid is! Can't spell worth a cent. Should think he'd be ashamed to see a little boy like me wear the medal. Glad I didn't wet it, for the color would have washed out of the string."

With that w.i.l.l.y put his hand in his pocket.

"Out here and show yourself, sir."

This to the medal.

"What! Why, what's this?"

He felt in the other pocket.

"Why! Why!"

He drew out junks of blue clay, wads of twine, a piece of chalk, a fish-hook, and various other articles more or less wound up in a wad; but no medal.

"Guess there's a hole in my pocket, and the medal fell through."

And without stopping to examine the pocket, he ran back all the way to the brook. Nowhere to be found. Not in the gra.s.s on either side of the road; not on the bank.

Then he remembered to look at his pockets; turned them all three inside out four times. No hole there.

"Well, I never!--Look here, you Oze Wiggins; did you pick up anything in the gra.s.s?"

"Noffin' but a toadstool," replied little Ozem, innocently; and w.i.l.l.y wondered if he wasn't a half-fool to make such an answer as that.

"Where can that medal be?" said he, with a dry sob.

He did not once suspect that Gideon Noonin had taken it.

"I'll go home and tell my mother. O, dear! O, dear!"

He was still at the tender age when little boys believe their mammas can help them out of any kind of trouble. True, he had been naughty and disobedient; but if he said he was sorry, wouldn't her arms open to take him in? He was sorry now,--no doubt of that,--and was running home with all speed, when the sight of his father in the distance reminded him of his errand, and he rushed back to the store for the codfish and mackerel.

"What makes your hair so wet, bubby?" asked Daddy Wiggins, rolling the fish in brown paper. "Haven't been in swimming--have you?"

"Don' know," stammered w.i.l.l.y, darting out of the store.

If his hair was wet it wouldn't do to go home till it was dry; for his father would find out that he had been in the brook, and the next thing in order would be a whipping. It was hard enough to lose the medal; w.i.l.l.y thought a whipping would be more than he could bear, for it was always given with a horsewhip out in the barn; and the unlucky boy could never help envying the cows, as they looked on, chewing their cuds with such an air of content and unconcern. Cows never were punished, nor sheep either. Good times they had--that's a fact. _Sheep_ wouldn't mind a real heavy horse-whipping, they were done up so in wool; but when a little boy had to take off his jacket, why, there wasn't much over his skin to keep off the smart. Ugh! how it did hurt!

There was another advantage in being a sheep, or a cow, or a hen; animals of that sort never lost anything--didn't have medals to lose.

"And this wasn't mine," groaned w.i.l.l.y. "What'll the mistress do to me?

Don' know; blister both hands, I s'pose!"

w.i.l.l.y had intended to play ball with the little boys, but it was not to be thought of now. Putting his fish behind a tree, he ran to the brook again and poked with a stick as far as he could reach; then waded in up to his knees, for the medal might have rolled out of his pocket.

"No, it couldn't; for my breeches were tucked in up there between two rocks."

Suddenly he recollected Gideon's going back to the bank.

"That wicked, mean boy!" almost screamed w.i.l.l.y. "He stole my medal! I'll go right off and tell mother!"

Mrs. Parlin had on her afternoon cap, and was sitting alone in the well-sanded "fore-room," doing the mending, and singing,--

"While shepherds watched their flocks by night, All seated on the ground,"--

when w.i.l.l.y, with his pantaloons tucked up to his knees, and his head dripping with water, rushed wildly into the room.

"My medal's gone! Gid Noonin stole it!"

"My son! What do you mean?"

"Yes, ma'am; Gid Noonin stole it! Made me go in swimming, and then he stole it!"

"Gideon Noonin?" said Mrs. Parlin, with a meaning glance. "That boy?

_Made_ you go swimming, my son?"

w.i.l.l.y hung his head.

"Yes, ma'am! Marched me off down to the brook pickaback,--he did!"

"Poor, little baby!" said Mrs. Parlin, in the soft, pitiful tone she would have used to an infant. "Poor little baby!"

w.i.l.l.y's head sank lower yet, and the blush of shame crept into his cheeks.

"Why, mother, he's as strong's a moose; he could most lift _you_!"

"'My son, if sinners entice thee, consent thou not.'"

"Well, but I--"

"You consented in your heart, w.i.l.l.y, or Gideon could not have made you go swimming."

What a very bright woman! w.i.l.l.y was amazed. How could she guess that while riding on Gid's back he had been a _little_ glad to think he could not help it? He had hardly known himself that he was glad, it was such a wee speck of a feeling, and so covered up with other feelings.

"But I tried not to go, mother. I tell you I squirmed awf'ly!"

"Well, you didn't try hard enough in the first place, w.i.l.l.y. Come here, and sit in my lap, and let us talk it over.--Do you know, my son, if you _had_ tried hard enough, the Lord would have helped you?"

w.i.l.l.y raised his eyes wonderingly. Had G.o.d been looking on all the while, just ready to be spoken to? He had not thought of that.

"O, mamma," said he solemnly, "I will mind, next time, see 'f I don't.

But there's that medal; why, what'll I do?"