JIMMY BARNARD'S SIN.
THE next summer, when Maurice, having been in F— only half an hour,
gaily ran over the hill to the cottage, with a present for Kitty under
his arm, he found her not lying prostrate as before, but sitting nearly
erect, her fingers busy with her ribbons.
There was a kind of frame attached to the bed, which her physician had
sent her from the hospital, and which raised her to any position she
wished. Her fingers were not straight, to be sure; but she was able to
use them without much pain, for which she was so thankful she could
scarcely speak of it without tears.
When Maurice, with rosy checks and sparkling eyes, unfolded his bundle
and laid before her half-a-dozen numbers of a popular magazine, and
showed her that each number contained patterns of various kinds of
fancy work, such as she could easily imitate, she gave a scream of joy.
"Just the very thing I want," she said, over and over again. "It
will be such pleasure to make something new, and lay aside these old
patterns, which people only buy to lay in their drawers out of sight."
"I sent money to the Editor," said Maurice, entering with all his heart
into her joy, "and every month, one number will come till the year is
through. There's nice reading in them about birds and beasts. Mamma
read some of it to me."
Mr. Seyton thought his son old enough this year to go to the public
school. There was, just over the hill, a little red school-house, the
very one in which he had learned his letters years ago, and now, he
introduced his son to the teacher, remarking, playfully,—
"My wife says I've turned out so well, she wants Maurice to commence
his education here where I did."
"I'll do my best for him," answered the teacher, in the same tone; "and
hope the boy may become as good a man as his father."
At first the little fellow did not enjoy the company of so many boys,
but, after a few days' acquaintance, grew to be delighted with the new
arrangements. When he came home, he would talk by the hour about the
lessons, and how near the head he was, and what fun they had playing
tag at recess, and how Bob Munger was going to make a kite that would
fly a mile right up into the sky, and how the boys were going to give
him all the string they could find.
Mrs. Seyton was very much surprised, therefore, when one Wednesday noon
he came home very sober and silent, and sat down to his dinner without
whistling, or without a word about the school. It was a half holiday,
and usually there would have been an earnest pleading for permission to
join his companions at their play on the common; but now he took a seat
on a cricket near his mamma, and asked her whether she had any thread
for him to wind.
"Don't you want to play?" she asked, gazing in his flushed face.
He cast down his eyes, blushing crimson.
"I don't feel like playing," he faltered, trying to control his voice.
Mrs. Seyton wondered what had happened, but did not like to press
him for the reason, as she was sure he would tell her by and by. She
smilingly placed a skein of bright-colored zephyr on his hands, winding
it loosely on her fingers. When it was done, he jumped up, asking,—
"Mamma, may I go and see Kitty?"
"Yes, dear, I like to have you there; she says you're a great help to
her."
With a good-bye kiss, he bounded away.
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