Part 3 (1/2)

worth of mola.s.ses had run to waste.

When the storekeeper had left Mr. Henderson further questioned Bob, getting all the particulars of the trick.

”I'm sorry, dad,” said Bob when he had finished his recital.

”That is what you say every time, my son. You said it after you frightened Mrs. Anderson's cow and they had to have the veterinarian for the animal, but that did not pay his bill. I had to settle for it.”

”I know, dad. I'll not do it again.”

”And that's another thing you always say, Bob. Now this is getting serious. You must mend your ways. This will be quite a heavy expense to me. I was going to spend that two dollars for a new pair of shoes. Now I will have to wait.”

”I'm sorry, dad.”

”But that doesn't give me my shoes.”

Mr. Henderson spoke gravely, and Bob felt quite badly over what he had done, for he loved his father and mother very much, and would not intentionally pain them. The trouble was he was, like many other boys, thoughtless. He did not count the consequences when indulging in pranks.

A little later, after giving his son quite a severe lecture, and obtaining his promise to be better in the future, Mr. Henderson prepared to go to bed. Bob also retired to his room, for he felt in no mood to go out with the village boys that night.

”I'm sure I don't know what to do with Bob,” said Mrs. Henderson to her husband when she was locking up the house. ”I'm afraid he'll get into serious trouble.”

”I hope not. I think I must punish him severely the next time he plays any tricks.”

”He is too big to whip.”

”I know it. I must think of some other method.”

Bob fell asleep, resolving to mend his ways, or at least to play in the future only harmless tricks to which no one would object. But in the morning his good resolutions had lost some of their power, like many others made during the night.

That day in school Bob snapped several of the paper crackers, and in consequence was kept in. However, his mother was visiting a neighbor, and when he came home late that afternoon she did not see him.

That evening Ted Neefus called for Bob. They were chums of long standing.

”Let's take a walk,” suggested Ted.

”Aw, that's no fun.”

”What'll we do then?”

Bob thought a few seconds.

”I'll tell you,” he said. ”We'll put a tic-tac on Mrs. Mooney's window. She lives all alone, and she'll think it's a ghost rapping.”

”Good! Come on. Have you got some string?”

”Sure.”

So you see how poorly Bob remembered his promise of the night before, and with what thoughtlessness he again started to indulge in a prank--a prank which might throw a nervous woman into hysterics. Yet in this Bob was just like thousands of other boys--he ”didn't mean anything.” The trouble was he did not think.

So the two boys, their heads full of the project of making a tic-tac, stole quietly through the village streets toward the cottage of the Widow Mooney.