"All right, sir,"--and away Ben trundled down the long walk that led through the orchard to a little grove of seven pines. A pleasant spot, for a soft rustle filled the air, a brown carpet of pine-needles, with fallen cones for a pattern, lay under foot, and over the tops of the tall brakes that fringed the knoll one had glimpses of hill and valley, farm-houses and winding river like a silver ribbon through the low green meadows. "A regular summer house!" said Thorny, surveying it with approval. "What's the matter, Randa? Wont it go?" he asked, as the stout maid dropped her arms with a puff, after vainly trying to throw the hammock rope over a branch. "That end went up beautiful, but this one wont; the branches is so high I can't reach 'em, and I'm no hand at flinging ropes round." "I'll fix it," and Ben went up the pine like a squirrel, tied a stout knot, and swung himself down again before Thorny could get out of the chair. "My patience! what a spry boy!" exclaimed Randa, admiringly. "That's nothing; you ought to see me shin up a smooth tent-pole," said Ben, rubbing the pitch off his hands, with a boastful wag of the head. "You can go, Randa. Just hand me my cushion and books, Ben; then you can sit in the chair while I talk to you," commanded Thorny, tumbling into the hammock. "What's he goin' to say to me?" wondered Ben to himself, as he sat down with Sanch sprawling among the wheels. [Illustration: BEN AND THORNY IN THE GROVE.] "Now, Ben, I think you'd better learn a hymn; I always used to when I was a little chap, and it is a good thing to do Sundays," began the new teacher with a patronizing air, which ruffled his pupil as much as the opprobrious term "little chap." "I'll be--whew--if I do!" whistled Ben, stopping an oath just in time. "It is not polite to whistle in company," said Thorny, with great dignity. "Miss Celia told me to. I'll say 'Confound it,' if you like that better," answered Ben, as a sly smile twinkled in his eyes. "Oh, I see! She's told you about it? Well, then, if you want to please _her_, you'll learn a hymn right off. Come now, she wants me to be clever to you, and I'd like to do it; but if you get peppery, how can I?" Thorny spoke in a hearty, blunt way, which suited Ben much better than the other, and he responded pleasantly: "If you wont be grand I wont be peppery. Nobody is going to boss me but Miss Celia, so I'll learn hymns if she wants me to." "'In the soft season of thy youth' is a good one to begin with. I learned it when I was six. Nice thing; better have it." And Thorny offered the book like a patriarch addressing an infant. Ben surveyed the yellow page with small favor, for the long _s_ in the old-fashioned printing bewildered him, and when he came to the last two lines he could not resist reading them wrong: "The earth affords no lovelier _fight_ Than a religious youth."