Bill was afraid of Harry’s jeers, and so he, too, refused, while the wailing cry rose louder. “Oh, Billy, do just once, and I’ve been so good to you! Just once, do, Billy.” “Shan’t do it,” was Bill’s reply, as he followed Harry, who, as a farewell parting had hurled a stone at a cow across the street, set the dog on his mother’s kitten, stepped on the old cat’s tail, and then left the yard, slamming after him the rickety gate his mother had tried in vain to have him fix before he went. Billy, however, waited. There was something more human in his nature than in his brother’s. He had not thrown his Testament away, and the sight of it in his bundle had touched a tender chord, making him half resolve to read it. Watching his brother till he was out of sight, he went back to where his mother sat, moaning dolefully, “Oh that I should raise sich boys!—that I should raise sich boys!” “Mother,” he said, and Mrs. Baker’s heart fairly leaped at the sound, for there was genuine sympathy in the tone. “Mother, now that Hal has gone, I don’t mind kissin’ you, or lettin’ you kiss me, if you want to.” The doleful moan was a perfect scream as the shrivelled arms clasped Bill, while the joyful mother kissed the rough but not ill-humored face. “There, now, don’t screech so like an owl,” he said, releasing himself from her, and adding, as he glanced at a huge silver watch, won by gambling, “Maybe seein’ I’ve a few minutes to spare, I’ll drive a nail or so into that confounded gate, and I dun know, but while I’m about it, I’ll split you an armful of wood. I had or’to have cut up the hull on’t I s’pose, but when Hal is ’round I can’t do nothin’.” It was strange how many little things Bill did do in these few minutes he had to spare—things which added greatly to his mother’s comfort, and saved her several shillings, beside making a soft warm spot in a heart which knew not many such. Glancing at the tall clock brought from New England, when Mrs. Baker first moved to Rockland, Bill remarked: “The darned thing has stopped agin. I or’to have iled it, I s’pose. It would kind of been company for you, hearin’ it tick. I _vum_, if I hain’t a mind to give you this old turnep,” and again he drew out the silver watch. “You’ll lay abed all day without no time. Like enough I’ll nab one from some tarnal rebel,—who knows?” and with his favorite expression, “_Nuff said_,” Bill laid the watch upon the table, his mother moaning all the while, “Billy boy, Billy boy, I never sot so much store by you before. How can I let you go? Stay, Billy, do, or else run away the first chance you git. Will you, Billy boy?”