and ball and yard off and how to run like a horse when I sat on his
shoulders. It was rather hard on him, after his work in the fields, but
he felt his responsibility and applied himself with due diligence and
became a very promising child. I also gave strict attention to his
talent for story-telling. It improved rapidly. Being frank in my
criticism he was able to profit by all his failures in taste and method,
so that each story had a fierce bear in it and a fair amount of growling
by and by. But I could not teach him to sing, and it was a great sorrow
to me. I often tried and he tried, but I saw that it wasn't going to
pay. He couldn't make the right kind of a noise. Through all this I did
not neglect his morals. If he said an improper word--and I regret to say
that he did now and then--I promptly corrected him and reported his
conduct to Aunt Deel, and if she was inclined to be too severe I took
his part and, now and then, got snapped on the forehead for the vigor of
my defense. On the whole it is no wonder that Uncle Peabody wearied of
his schooling.

One day when Uncle Peabody went for the mail he brought Amos Grimshaw to
visit me. I had not seen him since the day he was eating doughnuts in
the village with his father. He was four years older than I--a freckled,
red-haired boy with a large mouth and thin lips. He wore a silver watch
and chain, which strongly recommended him in my view and enabled me to
endure his air of condescension.

He let me feel it and look it all over and I slyly touched the chain
with my tongue just to see if it had any taste to it, and Amos told me
that his grandfather had given it to him and that it always kept him
"kind o' scairt."

"Why?"