more. He had seen all he wanted to see. He had bought all he wanted to
buy. The whole holiday was crowded into that whistle. To him, that was
all there was of it. Sweetmeats and knick-knacks had no attractions for
him. Military parade had no charm for him, for he could parade himself
now. A band of music had lost its charm, now that he had turned himself
into a band.

At once he started for home, instead of looking after other sights and
scenes. He had been absent scarcely half an hour when he reappeared,
blowing his whistle lustily as he entered the house, as if he expected
to astonish the whole race of Franklins by the shrillness, if not by
the sweetness, of his music.

"Back so quick!" exclaimed his mother.

"Yes! seen all I want to see." That was a truth well spoken, for the
whistle just commanded his whole being, and there was room for nothing
more. A whistle was all the holiday he wanted.

"What have you there, Ben?" continued his mother; "Something to make us
crazy?"

"A whistle, mother," stopping its noise just long enough for a decent
reply, and then continuing the concert as before.

"How much did you give for the whistle?" asked his older brother, John.

"All the money I had." Benjamin was too much elated with his bargain to
conceal any thing.