"Where did you get that book, Willie?"

"It was lent to me, ma, don't tear it ma, don't tear it, it ain't
mine, ma--"

"That will do, Willie, it is not fit for you or any other boy to read,
now you come in the house and go to bed."

"But ma, it is only four o'clock and I'm hungry and I won't let 'em
in the garden again, ma, please can't I stay out here, ma?"

"You do as I told you without further delay."

All alone in his room, confined to his bed by the stern mandates of
his mother, with everything out of doors calling him, Willie could
not sleep and then when darkness fell hunger gnawed at his vitals and
sleep refused to put an end to his misery. He counted to a thousand
then half drifted into the land of dreams. A wicked little green imp
whispered in his ear. "Conclusive Evidence," whispered it so loudly
Willie awoke, then he thought, or tried to think of some plan of
revenge on his heartless mother. He could think of none that would
not return to himself fourfold, then he reasoned that after all it
was not so much his mother's fault as the neighbors for keeping hens
that would not stay at home. Perhaps the little green imp came and
whispered into his ear again, I don't know, but how else account for
Willie's queer actions?

He slipped quietly out of bed, paused to listen at the door of his
mother's room but heard no sound. Reassured, he crept noiselessly
down the back stairs into the kitchen, out through the rough room