"I suppose you are aware that you have been a very wicked, deceitful, disobedient boy?" Willy made no reply, but lay down on the floor of the wagon, and curled himself up like a caterpillar. "Don't be too hard on him, Seth," said Stephen, who could not help pitying the poor little fellow in his shame and embarrassment; "I don't believe you meant to run away--now did you, Willy?" The child was quite touched by this unexpected kindness. So they were not sure he did mean to run away? If he said "No," they would believe him, and then perhaps he wouldn't have to be whipped. But next instant his better self triumphed, and he scorned the lie. Uncurling himself from his caterpillar ball, he stammered,-- "Yes, I did mean to, too." A little more, and he would have told the whole story. He longed to tell it--how life had seemed a burden on account of his whippings, and how he and Fred had planned to set up in business for themselves, but Fred had backed out. But before he had time to speak, Seth said, sternly,-- "You saucy child!" He had taken Willy's quick "Yes, I did mean to, too," for impertinence; whereas it was one of the bravest speeches the boy ever made, and did him honor. After this rebuke from Seth, Willy could not very well go on with his confessions; the heart was gone out of him, and he curled up, limp and quiet, like a caterpillar again. "Meant to run away--did you?" went on Seth, who ought to have known better than to pursue the subject; "to run away like a little dirty vagabond! You've nearly killed mother, I wish you to understand. You'll get a severe thrashing for this. I shall tell father not to show you any mercy." "Come, now, don't kick a fellow when he's down," said Stephen. "Willy will be ashamed enough of this." "Well, he ought to be ashamed! If he'd had a teaspoonful of brains he'd have known better than to cut up such a caper as this. Did you think you could run off so far but that we could find you, child?" No answer. "What did you little goslings mean to do with yourselves? Live on acorns? And what did Fred's uncle say when he saw him coming into the house in that shape?" No answer. Stephen looked down at the curled-up bunch on the floor of the wagon, and as it did not move, he gently touched it with his foot. "Poor little thing," said he, "I guess he's had a pretty hard cruise of it; he's sound asleep." CHAPTER XIII. CONCLUSION. Mrs. Parlin saw the wagon driving up to the porch door, and came out trembling and too much frightened to speak. She supposed at first that Willy had not come, for she did not see him till Seth and Stephen lifted him out of the wagon, a dead weight between them. O, her baby--her baby; what had happened to her dear wee Willie? "There, there, mother, don't be frightened," said Stephen, cheerily; "his tramp has been too much for him; that's all. I guess we'll carry him right up stairs to bed."