If mother’s real clever, I want you to ask her something right away. But
if it’s baking-day, or washing-day, or company’s coming off, or
preserves going on, or anything’s upset down below; or if she’s got a
headache or a dress-maker, or anything else that’s bad,--then wait.
I want you to ask her if I may bring home a boy to spend Saturday. Not a
very big boy,--do very well to “Philopene” with you: won’t put her out a
bit.
If you don’t like him at first, you will afterwards. When he first came
we used to plague him on account of his looks. He’s got a furious head
of hair, and freckles. But we don’t think at all about his looks now. If
anything, we like his looks.
He’s just as pleasant and gen’rous, and not a mean thing about him. I
don’t believe he would tell a lie to save his life. I know he wouldn’t.
He’s always willing to help everybody. And had just as lief give
anything away as not. And when he plays, he plays fair. Some boys cheat
to make their side beat. You don’t catch William Henry at any such mean
business. All the boys believe every word he says. Teachers too.
I will tell you how he made me ashamed of myself. Me and some other
boys.
One day he had a box come from home. ’T was his birthday. It was full of
good things. Says I to the boys, “Now, maybe, if we hadn’t plagued him
so, he would give us some of his goodies.”
That very afternoon, when we had done playing, and ran up to brush the
mud off our trousers, we found a table all spread out with a table-cloth
that he had borrowed, and in the middle was a frosted cake with “W. H.”
on top done in red sugar. And close to that were some oranges, and a
dish full of nuts, and as much as a pound of candy, and more figs than
that, and four great cakes of maple-sugar, made on his father’s land, as
big as small johnny-cakes, and another kind of cake. And doughnuts.
“Come, boys,” says he, “help yourselves.”
But not a boy stirred.
I felt my face a-blushing like everything. O, we were all of us just as
ashamed as we could be! We didn’t dare go near the table. But he kept
inviting us, and at last began to pass them round.
And I tell you the things were tip-top and more too. Such cake! And
doughnuts, that his cousin made! And tarts! You must learn how. But I
don’t believe you ever could. Of course we had manners enough not to
take as much as we wanted. I want to tell you some more things about
him. But wait till I come. He’s most as old as you are, and is always a
laughing, the same as you are.
Ask mother what I told you. Take her at her cleverest, and don’t eat up
all the sweet apples.
From your brother,