"That's a fact, I didn't think of it. What would he have said, I
wonder?"

Christopher raised his eyebrows. "Knocked your front teeth out,
perhaps. He's like that, isn't he?"

"Oh, he's awfully fond of me, you know," protested the boy; "but
it's his meddling ways that I can't stand. What business is it of
his who my friends are? He hasn't got to take up with 'em, has
he? Why, what he hates is for me to want to be with anybody but
himself or Aunt Saidie. He'd like to keep me dangling all day to
his coat tails, but it's not fair, and I won't have it. I'll show
him whether I'm to be kept a kid forever or not!"

"There's spirit for you!" drawled Christopher with a laugh, as he
applied the currycomb to the mare's flank.

"You just wait till you hear the worst," returned the other, with
evident pride in the thunderbolt about to be delivered. "He
swears he's going to send me to school tomorrow at sunrise."

"You don't say so?" ejaculated Christopher.

"Oh, but he'll do it, too--the only way to get around him is to
fall ill, and I can't work that tomorrow. I played the trick last
week and he saw through it. I've got to go, that's certain; but
I'm going to make him sorry enough before he's done. Why couldn't
he let me keep on studying with Mr. Morrison, as the doctor said
I ought to? What's the use of this blamed old Latin and Greek,