Jemmy was all the more pleased, because he had a little plan in his mind, which he carried out on the following day. When his mother had set him to count the kindnesses which he had received, she had taught him also to feel grateful for them.
But the little spinning-wheel of his brain did not rest there, nor stop till Jemmy had found out some way of showing that he was grateful. It was indeed but little that the lame boy could do; but when he carried to Sarah May a nosegay of all his best flowers, and saw her smile of pleasure as she received it, a joyful sense of having done what was kind and right filled the heart of the grateful boy. The yarn of Jemmy's thoughts then seemed to have become as clear and blue as the sky.
Dear reader, what thoughts is your little brain now spinning? When you gratefully remember kindnesses from earthly friends, blue and bright is the hue of your thoughts; but when you are also thankful for all the countless blessings bestowed by your Heavenly Friend, then the thread is all turned into gold!
"WELL, uncle, and if I did kick the little beast, what of that? He's only a dog, a mere shepherd's dog," said Steenie Steers, in a tone of contempt, as he looked down on the rough little creature that had crouched for protection beside the chair of his master, Farmer Macalpine.
"And what is a dog—a shepherd's dog—but a useful creature, a grateful creature, that might teach a lesson to many of a nobler race?" said the farmer tartly.
Macalpine had a face almost as sharp and eyes almost as keen as those of his four footed companion, and his shock of tawny hair was almost as thick and rough as the coat of his faithful Trusty. There was nothing smooth about Farmer Macalpine, as his spoiled nephew found to his cost whenever he and his uncle chanced to be together.
Steenie Steers thought himself a very fine fellow indeed; in this, as in many other things, he had formed a very different opinion from that of Farmer Macalpine. Though Steenie was not yet quite twelve years of age, he already put on all the airs of a grown-up fop. Macalpine had found the boy lolling in the only easy-chair in the room of his aunt, Miss Steers, with his silver-tipped cane in his hand; and Steenie had hardly risen to welcome his uncle, though he had not met him for more than a week.
"I've come to see your Aunt Elizabeth, Steenie; is she at home?" asked Macalpine.
"Aunt Bess—why, no; she's out somewhere," answered the nephew. "I dare say that she's trotted over to the doctor's," he added, in a tone of utter indifference.