“Nonsense,” replied Tom; “I am no fool; trust me for steering my bark clear of breakers. At any rate, I’ll marry that girl, if perdition comes after it--were it only to spite Percy. How he will gnash his teeth when he hears of it, hey? The old man is dead, and the old woman is left almost penniless. I’ll easily coax her into it. In fact, I mean to drive out there this very afternoon. Mary Ford shall be Mrs. Tom Shaw, d’ye hear?” * * * * * “Good day, Pike! Haven’t got a pitchfork you can lend a neighbor, have ye? Ours is broke clean in two; I’m dreadful hard put to it for horseflesh, or I would drive to the village and buy a new one. You see that pesky boy of mine has lamed our mare; it does seem to me, Pike, that boys allers will be boys--the more I scold at him, the more it don’t do no good.” “And the more it won’t,” said the good-natured farmer Rice. “Scolding never does any good no how--the boy is good enough by natur’--good as you was, I dare say, when you was his age. I wouldn’t give a cent for a boy that hain’t no friskiness about him, no sperrit like; but you see you don’t know how to manage him. You are allers scolding, just as you say. It’s ‘John, go weed those parsnips; ten to one, you careless dog, you’ll pull up the parsnips instead of the weeds;’--or, ‘John, go carry that corn to mill; ten to one, you’ll lose it out of the wagon going.’ I tell you, Pike, it is enough to discourage any lad, such a constant growling and pecking; now I want my boys to love me when they grow up. I don’t want them glad to see the old man’s back turned. I don’t want them happier any where than at their own home. That’s the way drunkards and profligates are made--that’s the way the village tavern thrives. I tell you, Pike, if you lace up natur too tight, she’ll bust out somewhere. Better draw it mild.” “O, don’t talk to me, neighbor,” said Rice, impatiently. “Them’s modern notions; thrash children, I say. When I was a lad, if I did my duty, it was well; if I didn’t, I knew what to expect. It is well enough for your children to love you; of course they oughter, when you’ve brought them into the world; but I say they’ve got to mind, _any_ how; ‘obey your parents;’ that’s it; plain as preaching.” “Yes,” said farmer Rice, “I believe in that; but there’s another verse in the same book, that runs this way--‘Parents provoke not your children to anger, lest they be discouraged.’” “Well--well,” said Mr. Pike, uneasily, “I hate argufying, as I do bad cider. Your neighbor, Mr. Ford, dropped off sudden like, didn’t he? What’s the matter of him?”