"Oh, yes!" (with a groan and a smile;) "come, I'll try to push ahead now." "Here, give me the basket," cried Jacky, starting up with sudden and tremendous energy, and wrenching the basket out of Peter's hand. He did it with ease, although the small clerk was twice the size of the imp. Peter remonstrated, but in vain. Mrs Brown, a woman of powerful frame and strong mind, could not turn Jacky from his purpose--it was not likely, therefore, that an amiable milk-and-water boy, in a state of exhaustion, could do it. Jacky swung the basket over his shoulder with an amount of exertion that made him stagger, and, commanding Peter to follow, marched up the hill with compressed lips and knitted brows. It was an epoch in the mental development of Jacky--it was a new sensation to the child. Hitherto he had known nothing but the feeling of dependence. Up to this point he had been compelled by the force of circumstances to look up to everyone--and, alas! he had done so with a very bad grace. He had never known what it was to help any one. His mother had thoroughly spoiled him. Strange infatuation in the mother! She had often blamed the boy for spoiling his toys; but she had never blamed herself for spoiling the boy. "Darling Jacky! don't ask the child to do anything for you--he's too young yet." So Jacky was never asked to help any one in any way, except by Mrs Brown, who did not "ask," but commanded, and, although she never rewarded obedience with the laurel, either literally or figuratively, she invariably punished disobedience with the _palm_. Little Tilly always did everything she wanted done herself; and could never do enough for Jacky, so that she afforded no opportunity for her brother to exercise amiable qualities. Thus was Jacky trained to be a selfish little imp, and to this training he superadded the natural wickedness of his own little heart. But now, for the first time, the tables were turned. Jacky felt that Peter was dependent on him--that he could not get on without him. "Poor Peter, I'll help him--he's a weak skinny chap, and I'm strong as a lion--as a elephant--as a crokindile--anything! Come on, Peter, are you getting better now?" Thus they went up the hill together. "Ha! there they are at last, close under this mound. Why, I do believe that Jacky's carrying the basket!" Mr Sudberry was bereft of breath at this discovery; so was everyone else. When the boy stumped up the hill and flung down the basket with an emphatic, "there!" his father turned to the small clerk-- "How now, sir, did you bid Jacky carry that?" "Please, sir--no, sir;" (whimpering), "but Master Jacky forced it out of my hand, sir, and insisted on carrying it. He saw that I was very tired, sir--and so I am, but I would not have asked him to carry it, if I had been ever so tired--indeed I would not, sir." "I'm not displeased, my boy," said Mr Sudberry, kindly, patting him on the head; "I only wanted to know if _he offered_."