It was his last one for the morning; after that breakfast, and then a four-mile brisk run to the next village to the Fourth of July celebration. His mother had not made the least objection to his staying to the celebration. On the contrary she had said heartily: “I am glad the doctor wants an errand done there; it will give you a good excuse for going. Of course you may stay, and welcome; and I’ll put you up a nice Fourth of July lunch; and if there is something to see, or to buy, that doesn’t cost more than ten cents, you just have it, or see it, whichever it is. You deserve a treat, Davie.” Davie laughed gleefully. It was pleasant to hear his mother speak such words, but he had a very different plan. Hurried as he had been that morning, he leaned on his spade and thought it all out. In the village where the celebration was to be was a large book store, where he had once or twice been sent on errands for Dr. Bristol, and had feasted his eyes upon the rows and rows of books and magazines, and thought what a thing it would be to have a chance to handle them. The day before, while holding the horses and waiting for the doctor, his eyes had rested on an advertisement in the paper—WANTED: A BOY. Then had followed a brief statement of the kind of boy, and what his duties would be, and the whole was signed by the proprietor of the book store. Davie’s cheeks had glowed so while reading it, that the doctor, returning just then, had looked hard at him, and asked him if he was getting up a fever. The splendid plan which the boy had thought out leaning on his shovel was, that he would clip around to the book store the moment the doctor’s errand was done, and try for that place! To be sure there was hardly a possibility that he would succeed, but then he might, and certainly he would never accomplish anything if he did not try. But he did not mean to let any body know of his ambitions, so he had only a laugh for his mother’s suggestion. “If I get a chance to see the procession and hear the music and a few such things it will be all the lark I want,” he said cheerily, “except the lunch; I’ll be sure to want that. You are sure you can get along without me for such a long time?” “O, yes, indeed!” the mother said, smiling back on him. It was so like her Davie to think of mother. Davie made good speed over the road, though it was up hill and dusty, and the day was warm. He believed himself to be in ample time to see the parade which was to be made in honor of the day. At the corner he halted and glanced wistfully toward the book store; it was within half a block of him, and who knew but that if he should appear so early in the day he might get ahead of somebody?