"Do you go down to Leslie's and tell him to send me a good claw hammer and three pounds of eightpenny nails. And go quickly." The boy turned off without a word of reply, and was slowly moving away, when his father said, sharply: "Look here, sir!" John Thomas paused and looked back. "Did you hear me?" "Yes, sir." "What did I tell you to do?" "Go get a claw hammer and three pounds of eightpenny nails." "Very well. Why did n't you indicate, in some way, that you heard me? Have n't I already this morning read you a lecture about this very thing? Now, go quickly. I'm in a hurry." For all this impatience and authority on the part of Mr. Belknap, John Thomas moved away at a snail's pace; and as the former in a state of considerable irritability, gazed after the boy, he felt strongly tempted to call him back, and give him a good flogging in order that he might clearly comprehend the fact of his being in earnest. But as this flogging was an unpleasant kind of business, and had, on all previous occasions, been succeeded by a repentant and self-accusing state, Mr. Belknap restrained his indignant impulses. "If that stubborn, incorrigible boy returns in half an hour, it will be a wonder," muttered Mr. Belknap, as he came back into the sitting-room. "I wish I knew what to do with him. There is no respect or obedience in him. I never saw such a boy. He knows that I'm in a hurry; and yet he goes creeping along like a tortoise, and ten chances to one, if he does n't forget his errand altogether before he is halfway to Leslie's. What is to be done with him, Aunt Mary?" Mr. Belknap turned, as he spoke to an elderly lady, with a mild, open face, and clear blue eyes, from which goodness looked forth as an angel. She was a valued relative, who was paying him a brief visit. Aunt Mary let her knitting rest in her lap, and turned her mild, thoughtful eyes upon the speaker. "What is to be done with that boy, Aunt Mary?" Mr. Belknap repeated his words. "I've tried everything with him; but he remains incorrigible." "Have you tried--" Aunt Mary paused, and seemed half in doubt whether it were best to give utterance to what was in her mind. "Tried what?" asked Mr. Belknap. "May I speak plainly?" said Aunt Mary. "To me? Why yes! The plainer the better." "Have you tried a kind, affectionate, unimpassioned manner with the boy? Since I have been here, I notice that you speak to him in a cold, indifferent, or authoritative tone. Under such treatment, some natures, that soften quickly in the sunshine of affection, grow hard and stubborn." The blood mounted to the cheeks and brow of Mr. Belknap. "Forgive me, if I have spoken too plainly," said Aunt Mary. Mr. Belknap did not make any response for some time, but sat, with his eyes upon the floor, in hurried self-examination. "No, Aunt Mary, not too plainly," said he, as he looked at her with a sobered face. "I needed that suggestion, and thank you for having made it."