"We don't get lessons mostly. Don't come unless it's too hot to go
fishing or berrying."

"Tip comes 'cause he's too lazy to go past the door,"

"I don't!" drawled out the boy they called Tip; "I come to get out of the
sun; it's hotter than sixty down home."

"Never mind, boys," said their frightened teacher; for they were all
laughing now, as though the funniest thing in the world had happened.
"See here, since you have no lessons, shall I tell you a story?"

Oh yes, they were willing enough to hear a story, if it wasn't stupid.

"I'll tell you something that happened to a boy when he was about
thirteen years old. His name is Robert; he told me this story himself, so
you may be sure it's true.

"He said one evening he was walking slowly down the main street of the
village where he lived"--

"Where was that?" asked Bob Turner.

"Oh, it was away out west. He said he felt cross and unhappy; he had
nowhere in particular to go, and nothing to do. As he walked, he came to
a turn where two roads met. 'Now,' thought he, 'shall I turn to the left
and go home, and hang around until bed-time, or shall I turn to the right
and go down to the river awhile?'

"You see, Robert hadn't a happy home,--his mother was dead, and his