him incapable of appreciating a great work of art.

Verty explained that he had been hunting throughout the preceding
night--setting traps, and tramping over hill and through dale--and
thus he had been overcome by drowsiness. He smiled with great good
nature upon Mr. Roundjacket, as he uttered this simple excuse, and
so winning was the careless sunshine of his countenance, that honest
Roundjacket, uttering an expiring grumble, declared that nothing was
more natural than his drowsiness. In future, he said, he would select
those seasons when his--Verty's--senses were bright and wide-awake;
and he begged the young man not to fear a repetition of what he might
have heard--there were fifteen more cantos, all of which he would
read, slowly and carefully explaining, as he went along, any
difficulties.

Verty received this announcement with great good humor, and then began
tracing over his paper, listlessly, the word "Redbud." That word had
been the key-note of his mind throughout the morning--that was the
real secret of his abstraction.

Miss Lavinia had informed him on that morning, when she had dismissed
him from Apple Orchard, that Redbud was going away for the purpose of
being educated; and that he, Verty, would act very incorrectly if he
asked any one whither Redbud was going. Thus the boy had been rendered
gloomy and sad--he had wandered about Apple Orchard, never daring to
ask whither the young girl had gone--and so, in one of his wanderings,
had encountered Mr. Rushton, who indeed was seeking him. He had easily
yielded to the representations of that gentleman, when he assured him
that he ought to apply his mind to something in order to provide for
all the wants of his Indian mother--and this scheme was all the more