himself, more than half that is on the table, she takes but a few
mouthfuls, and swallows them with difficulty.

After supper, Willy, who is just thirteen, and who has already been
bound out as an apprentice to a trade, comes home. He has a tale of
suffering to tell. For some fault his master has beaten him until
the large purple welts lie in meshes across his back from his
shoulders to his hips.

"How comes all this?" asks Mr. Warren. There is not the smallest
sign of sympathy in his voice.

Willy relates the cause, and tells it truly. He was something to
blame, but his fault needed not the correction of stripes even
lightly applied.

"Served you right!" said the father, when the story was ended. "No
business to have acted so. Do as you are told, and mind your work,
and you'll escape flogging. Otherwise, I don't care how often you
get it. You've been spoiled at home, and it'll do you good to toe
the mark. Did your master know you were coming home to-night?"

"No, sir," replied the boy, with trembling lips, and a choking
voice.

"Then what did you come for? To get pitied? Do right and you'll need
no pity."

"Oh, James, don't speak so to the child!" said Mrs. Warren, unable
to keep silence.