No loving cat or friendly dog was there to cheer or to betray. Nothing
but thick, black darkness. Was it possible that the moon was still
shining outside?
He wondered if the boys were having a good time. He would open the door
and go to them as soon as he dared. But while he was thinking and
wondering, waiting until he was sure his father and mother were asleep
again, the old clock rang out the hour of twelve. Midnight! It was of no
use to go then; the boys would be gone.
And so Bert crept up stairs to his room, cross and dissatisfied, feeling
that the fates were against him.
He was late to breakfast the next morning. His mother laughingly
inquired if the weight of his bedclothes had affected his hearing.
"Yes'm--no'm. I mean--I guess not," he replied absently.
It was a rainy morning, and the weather was disagreeably warm. After
breakfast Bert came into the shed, and watched his father as he mended
an old harness.
"What sort of boy is that Ned Sellars?" inquired his father at length.
Bert started.
"I don't know. I think he's a pretty good boy. Why?"
"I passed the house this morning. Some one was getting a terrible
flogging, and I think it must have been Ned."
"What for? Do you know?"
"Yes. They spoke very loud, and I couldn't help hearing.
Pages:
104
105
106
107
108
109
110
111
112
113
114
115
116
117
118
119
120
121
122
123
124
125
126
127
128