“I don’t believe in candy, Tom,” said Aunt Louisa, “and you know it. So don’t expect any. You’re looking so well, my dear, that I wouldn’t think of bringing you anything that might upset you. I did consider fruit, but I’m always afraid of fruit; in hot weather--aren’t you, sir?” Dan, finding the question put to him, answered with alacrity. “Yes’m,” said Dan soberly. “Yes, that’s what I think,” continued Aunt Louisa. “And so I said to myself, ‘If it must be something sweet’--for Tom’s got the sweetest tooth of any boy I’ve ever seen, and I’ve seen a good many in my time--‘if it must be something sweet,’ I said, ‘why, it will be something healthful.’ And so, Tom, I’ve brought you two of those lemon pies and a dozen cream-puffs from that nice store on Temple Place. There’s nothing about a good honest pie can hurt any one--is there?” “No, indeed,” answered Dan with enthusiasm. Tom murmured his thanks, but withal looked a trifle dissatisfied. Aunt Louisa saw it. “I do believe he’s disappointed at not getting candy!” she said. “No, really, aunt,” Tom answered, striving to put conviction into his tones. “I’m awfully fond of cream-puffs--and pie.” But Aunt Louisa shook her head, unconvinced. “I’m afraid you are, though,” she said. “I kind of felt you would be. That’s why I said to myself, ‘Now, there’s mighty little use in being in good health if you’re unhappy. If the boy’s going to get more enjoyment out of having a stomach-ache than by not having one, why, he shall have it. Boys aren’t real happy, anyhow,’ I said to myself, ‘unless they’re in trouble, and I guess a stomach-ache’s about as harmless a trouble as he could have.’ And so I just went down to Sage & Paw’s and----” “Hooray for you, Aunt Louisa!” shouted Tom. “What d’you get?” “Mixed chocolates,” said Aunt Louisa, her eyes dancing, adding grimly, “I guess they’ll do the work as quick as anything!” Candy never tastes so good as when a chap has been subsisting on what the school catalogues call “a plain, wholesome diet with a sufficiency of pure milk and butter and fresh eggs.” The box, a generous four-pound affair, was quickly obtained, and the five--Aunt Louisa reminding one of a valuable transport under the protection of four men-o’-war--sought a quiet spot in the forest above the clearing where they, or at least four of them, could do the matter full justice. Aunt Louisa sat on a fallen tree, with her neat gray traveling-gown well tucked up around her, and encouraged them to eat all they could. “You might just as well have it over with,” she declared. “You’re all bound to be ill, and the sooner you’re ill the sooner you’ll be well again. Mr. Hurry, you mustn’t let Tom get ahead of you.” “Dan’s name’s Speede, auntie,” corrected Tom. “Speede, is it? Well, he’s real slow compared to you, Tom, when it comes to candy.”