“Perhaps they have blankets in that part of the country,” said Uncle Jacob.
“But people are not always thoughtful about it,” said grandmother. “I really hope he’ll take care of himself, and not be climbing up everywhere. Houses and trees were bad enough; but now they have gymnastic poles and everything else, to tempt boys off the ground. O dear! when we think of everything that might happen to boys, ’t is a wonder one of them ever lives to grow up. Isn’t there a pond near by?”
“O yes,” said Lucy Maria, “Crooked Pond. That’s what gives the name to the school,—Crooked Pond School.”
“I hope he won’t be whipped,” said his little sister.
“Whipped!” cried Aunt Phebe, “I should like to see anybody whipping our Billy!”
“O mother, I shouldn’t,” said Matilda.
“’T isn’t an impossible thing,” said grandmother. “He’s quick. Billy’s good-hearted, but he’s quick. He might speak up. I gave him a charge how to behave. But then, what’s a boy’s memory? I don’t suppose he’ll remember one half the things I told him. I meant to have charged him over again, the last thing, not to stay out in the rain and get wet, where there’s nobody to see to his clothes being dried.”
“Well,” said Uncle Jacob, “if a boy doesn’t know enough to go into the house when it rains, he better come home?”
“What I hope is,” said Aunt Phebe, “that he’ll keep himself looking decent.”
“If he does,” said Lucy Maria, “then ’twill be the first time. The poor child never seemed to have much luck about keeping spruced up. If anybody here ever saw William Henry with no buttons off and both shoes tied, and no rip anywhere, let ’em raise their hands!”