CHAPTER IX.

THE BLUE FISH.

WOULD you like to hear what Jimmy wrote? It was this.

"DEAR DANIEL:"

"I am a great deal better. I eat bread and cream

every day; and I like it very much. Dear Daniel,

I cannot tell you how sorry I am that I acted so bad,

and told so many lies, and ran away from school.

I have asked God to forgive me for Jesus Christ's

sake; and I think he will. Mother says He always

does forgive boys when He sees they are really

penitent. I have thought a great deal about you;

and I don't want you to think I'm angry because

you struck me. It made me sick at first; but I am

rather glad of it now, because if I hadn't got hurt

I might have gone on growing worse and worse. Mother

says, our Father in heaven often does allow his

children to get into trouble, to let them see that

the Bible is true, when it says: 'The way of

transgressors is hard.' So you see it was good for

me to be hurt. Dear Daniel, I love you dearly.

I knew you'd be sorry. I thank your father for being

so kind to me. Will you please ask him to let you

come with me to Sunday school when I get well;

and we'll learn to be good boys together?"

"Teacher came to see me a good many times; but I

was too sick to know it. I'll never play truant

again."

"YOUR FRIEND, JIMMY DODGE."

Dexter was very glad to oblige his young friend by carrying this letter

to Mr. Crawson's.

"What have you there, Dan?" asked his father the same evening, as he

saw his son slily wiping his eyes while trying to read a paper.

The lad passed Jimmy's letter without a word, his lip quivering as he

did so.

"Give me my specs, Amos.—There, on the end of the mantel."

He lead the writing from the top to the bottom of the page, coughing a

good deal and clearing his throat at the last, while Daniel watched him

closely. It was full five minutes before he spoke. He sat holding the

letter, gazing straight before him. Then he said abruptly:

"I went out in the large boat and caught a blue fish to-day. I think

there'll be more to-morrow. If you've a mind, Dan, you may get up and

go with me to Buzzard's point. May be we can find something that will

taste as good as the bread and cream Jimmy tells about. When you go

there, you tell him your father says you may go to Sunday school and

welcome."

"I'd like that firstrate, father. I'll go to bed now so as to be up

in season." He folded the letter carefully and put it in the drawer.

He wanted to say that he had resolved to turn over a new leaf; but he

had not the courage. As he was reluctantly leaving the room he caught

the eye of his father fixed full upon him, with an expression of such

yearning tenderness that he sprang forward and clasped his arms round

his father's neck and kissed him.

Never since he could remember had he given such an embrace; but it did

them both good. There was a sob, and then a laugh in which all in the

room joined. Mr. Crawson held the boy off at arms-length and looked at

him with a smile. Never had their hearts been drawn together as now.

As Amos and his brother left the room Amos said with a sneer:

"I guess I'll try murdering folks, and see whether dad'll cosset me up.

Bah, it makes me sick!"

[Illustration: DANIEL AND AMOS FISHING.]

"Amos," called out Mr. Crawson, "I told you to get up and work in the

garden; but you may go with us if you'd rather. I aren't agoing to have

my boys think I'm partial to ary one."

The next day when Mrs. Dodge went to the kitchen she found a large blue

fish, nicely dressed for cooking; lying on a platter.

"Daniel Crawson brought it," Ellen said laughing, "and he'd got another

one for the Doctor. He said they were alive this morning. He caught

them himself. Oh, there's a little paper too."

She took from her pocket a soiled piece of paper which seemed to have

been torn from a book. On it was written with a pencil:

"Father says I may go to Sunday school. I never

was sorrier in all my life. I never prayed afore,

but that night I did ask God to forgive me. I'm sick

of being such a bad boy. If you'll help me be good,

you shall have all the fish you want."

"DANIEL CRAWSON."

Not long after this Miss Reynolds called at Mr. Dodge's to inquire

about her scholar. The vacation was near, and she was intending to

leave the town for eight weeks.

Jimmy was almost well now, though he looked very pale and thin. After

some conversation with Mrs. Dodge about his studies, the boy put his

hand into his teacher's and said timidly:

"I'm glad you came; I've been wanting to tell you something. I told a

lie when I said I went with mother. Will you please to forgive me?"

"Yes, my dear Jimmy," she answered putting her arm around him. "I think

you have learned a lesson you will never forget. Solomon tells us in

the Bible that, 'wisdom's ways are ways of pleasantness and all her

paths are peace.'"

"Yes, ma'am; and I never was so unhappy as after I began to be wicked."

"How about Daniel Crawson?" she asked earnestly. "He has been very

regular at school lately, and studies as if he meant to make up for

lost time."

"Oh, I'm so glad! He's going to Sunday school too. His father has given

him leave."

"Yes;" added Mrs. Dodge, "and I can tell you something more. Mr.

Crawson has hired a pew in the side aisle, and told your father he

intended to go to church himself. He has not been for fifteen years. He

says he's seen occasion to change his mind about religion, and if it

isn't too late he means to try and get it himself."

Mrs. Dodge urged the teacher to stay to tea; but as she could not, the

lady brought in a saucer of raspberries with sugar and delicious sweet

cream.

Miss Reynolds said it was years since she had enjoyed such a treat.

After she had eaten the fruit, she went away, telling Jimmy to get up a

good stock of health so as to be able to study hard in the autumn.

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