They took their seats quietly, and when Ben came in, he was much surprised to meet none but pleasant looks. When Frankie was on his way home after school, Ben came running to overtake him, all out of breath. “Hallo! Frank Western, stop a minute,” he shouted. Frank waited for him. It was an awkward thing for Ben to do, something he had probably never done before, but he went through with it quite well. “I say, Frank, that was a mean trick I served you. You took it so cool I was ashamed of myself, and I don’t blame the boys and girls for being down on me.” He had not asked forgiveness, but Frankie did not wait for that. “Never mind, Ben,” he said, cordially. “We’ll have another race to-morrow. Come home with me and see Aleck. Poor fellow! He gets lonesome.” So they walked on together. “What makes you so much better than the other boys?” asked Ben, abruptly. “O Ben, don’t speak in that way,” said Frankie, looking troubled. “I’m not good, but, do you know, it is ever so much easier to keep from getting angry if you think about Jesus.” Ben looked astonished, but Frankie told him in his own childlike way of the Saviour, and how he would help even little children to serve him. It was in this way that Aleck and Frankie worked for Jesus, by obeying him, and by telling others of him. [Illustration] [Illustration] CHAPTER VIII. ALECK GOES HOME. Winter snow gave place to the spring flowers, and now Aleck can go into the yard, with our sturdy Frankie for a support. The boys are together nearly all the time. Aleck, with his gentle ways, to soften the more boyish nature of our robust little hero, and Frankie, with his merry heart, to brighten the life of his suffering friend. It was Aleck who helped him out of trouble; who urged him to be gentle and forgiving, even to Ben Field; to obey his mother; and to try in every way to please Jesus. It was Aleck who studied the hard lesson first and then helped him, and who sharpened all the slate-pencils; who made the tops and kites and buzz-wheels, and, in short, shared in all of Frankie’s play and work. But as the summer heat came on, the busy hands grew strangely idle. Mrs. Western noticed the change and tried at first by giving simple tonics, then by employing a physician, to restore his strength, but it was in vain. He would lie for hours on a couch before the open window, dreamily watching the soft summer sky, and listening to the singing of the birds. He seldom roused from this dreamy state, excepting to listen to the reading of the Bible, or to his favorite hymn, “My Ain Countree.” Two of the verses he would say over and over to himself. “The earth is flecked wi’ flowers, mony tinted, fresh an’ gay, The birdies warble blithely, for my Father made them sae; But these sights an’ these sounds wi’ as naething be to me, When I hear the angels singin’ in my Ain Countree.