I saw in a moment that something had gone
wrong. I had always stood in the greatest awe of the old gentlemen,
because he was the rich man of the neighborhood, and, now I felt my
heart beginning to beat very fast. As soon as I came near he said:--
"Did you go through this gate yesterday?"
I could easily have denied it, as it was before daylight when I went
through, and I quite as often went the other way. But the picture of
Charley Allen kneeling in the barn, came to my mind like a flash, and
before I had time to listen to the tempter I replied:--
"Yes, sir; I did."
"Are you sure you shut and pinned the gate?" he asked.
This question staggered me. I remembered distinctly that I did not. I
could pull the pin out without getting off my horse, but I could not put
it in again; so I carelessly rode away, and left it open.
"I--I--I--"
"Out with it; tell just what you did!"
"I left it open," I said abruptly.
"Well, you let the cattle in and they have destroyed all my early
potatoes,--a terrible piece of business!"
"I'm very sorry, I'd--"
"Talking won't help matters now; but remember, boy, remember that sorrow
doesn't make potatoes,--sorrow doesn't make potatoes."
I felt very bad about the matter, for I was really sorry that the old
gentleman had lost his potatoes, and then I expected to be severely
reproved at home.
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