at his father's knees. He got through it perfectly again; but his
childish manner, during this third trial, altered from frankness to
distrustfulness; and he looked much oftener, while he said his task, at
Mr. Goodworth than at his father. When the texts had been repeated, Mr.
Thorpe just said to his wife, before resuming his book--"You may tell
the nurse, my dear, to get Zachary's dinner ready for him--though he
doesn't deserve it for behaving so badly about learning his lesson."

"Please, grandpapa, may I look at the picture-book you brought for me
last night, after I was in bed?" said Zack, addressing Mr. Goodworth,
and evidently feeling that he was entitled to his reward now he had
suffered his punishment.

"Certainly not on a Sunday," interposed Mr. Thorpe; "your grandpapa's
book is not a book for Sundays."

Mr. Goodworth started, and seemed about to speak; but recollecting what
he had said to Mr. Thorpe, contented himself with poking the fire. The
book in question was a certain romance, entitled "Jack and the Bean
Stalk," adorned with illustrations in the freest style of water-color
art.

"If you want to look at picture-books, you know what books you may have
to-day; and your mamma will get them for you when she comes in again,"
continued Mr. Thorpe.

The works now referred to were, an old copy of the "Pilgrim's Progress"
containing four small prints of the period of the last century; and a
"Life of Moses," illustrated by severe German outlines in the manner of
the modern school. Zack knew well enough what books his father meant,