hair a sharp tweak. He struck out, hastily, and hit her. She was not
hurt,--only very much surprised,--but she began to cry lustily, and Aunt
Jennie came hurrying in, and took the child in her arms.

That night after supper Clinton went into the sitting-room, and called
Grace to him. "I want to tell you something," he said. "I am sorry that I
hit you, and I ask your pardon. Will you forgive me, dear?" Grace agreed
quickly, and said, shyly, "Next time I want to pull any one's hair, I will
pull my own."

Aunt Jennie was in the next room and overheard the conversation. "It
strikes me, Sarah," she said to Mrs. Stevens, later, "that Clinton is a
remarkably strong boy for one who is not strong. Most boys would not have
taken the trouble to ask a small girl to forgive them, even if they were
very much in the wrong. But Clinton has a strong character."

The year Clinton was thirteen, the boys planned to have a corn roast, one
August night. "We will get the corn in old Carter's lot," said Harry
Meyers. "He has just acres of it, and can spare a bushel or so as well as
not. I suppose you will go with us, Clint?"

Clinton hesitated. "No," said he. "I guess not; and I should think if you
want to roast corn, you could get it out of your own gardens. But if Mr.
Carter's corn is better than any other, why can you not ask him----"

"O, come, now," retorted Harry, "do not let it worry you! Half the fun of
roasting corn is in--in taking it. And don't you come, Clinton--don't. We
would not have you for the world. You are too nice, Mr. Coughin."

Clinton's cheeks flushed red, but he turned away without a word. When Mr.