me from getting a whistle and seeing whether I had forgotten my
early cunning. At the very first good-sized town I came to I was
delighted to find at a little candy and toy shop just the sort of
whistle I wanted, at the extravagant price of ten cents. I bought
it and put it in the bottom of my knapsack.

"Am I not old enough now," I said to myself, "to be as youthful
as I choose?"

Isn't it the strangest thing in the world how long it takes us to
learn to accept the joys of simple pleasures?--and some of us
never learn at all. "Boo!" says the neighbourhood, and we are
instantly frightened into doing a thousand unnecessary and
unpleasant things, or prevented from doing a thousand beguiling
things.

For the first few days I was on the road I thought often with
pleasure of the whistle lying there in my bag, but it was not
until after I left the Stanleys' that I felt exactly in the mood
to try it.

The fact is, my adventures on the Stanley farm had left me in a
very cheerful frame of mind. They convinced me that some of the
great things I had expected of my pilgrimage were realizable
possibilities. Why, I had walked right into the heart of as fine
a family as I have seen these many days.

I remained with them the entire day following the
potato-planting. We were out at five o'clock in the morning, and
after helping with the chores, and eating a prodigious breakfast,