to do so.

The parson had said, "Treat the child fairly. Bring him up as he will
have to live hereafter. Don't make him half pet and half servant." And
following this advice, and her own resolve that there should be "no
nonsense" in the matter, Miss Betty had made it a rule that he should
not be admitted to the parlor. It bore more heavily on the tender hearts
of the little ladies than on the light heart of John Broom, and led to
their waylaying him in the passages and gardens with little gifts,
unknown to each other. And when Miss Kitty kissed his newly-washed
cheeks, and pronounced them "like ripe russets," Miss Betty murmured,
"Be judicious, sister Kitty;" and Miss Kitty would correct any possible
ill effects by saying, "_Now_ make your betters, John Broom, and say,
'Thank you, ma'am!'" which was accomplished by the child's giving a tug
to the forelock of his thick black hair, with a world of mischief in his
eyes.

When he was old enough, the little ladies sent him to the village
school.

The total failure of their hopes for his education was not the smallest
of the disappointments Miss Betty and Miss Kitty endured on his behalf.
The quarrel with the lawyer had been made up long ago, and though there
was always a touch of raillery in his inquiries after "the young gipsy,"
he had once said, "If he turns out anything of a genius at school, I
might find a place for him in the office, by-and-by." The lawyer was
kind-hearted in his own fashion, and on this hint Miss Kitty built up
hopes, which unhappily were met by no responsive ambition in John Broom.

As to his fitness to be an errand boy, he could not carry a message from