"Vacation's here! Vacation's here!" shouted George Byron, bursting into the room and throwing his books upon the table.
"And a pity it is," returned his mother coldly; "you are so bad at numbers that you ought to be at school every day in the year."
George flushed deeply, but did not reply. He had learned that when Mrs. Byron wore this worried expression it was wiser of him to keep silence. Doubtless she had received one of those troublesome business letters again. Such missives always did disturb matters in the Aberdeen apartment, often causing Mrs. Byron to speak sharply to those about her.
This lady had belonged to the Gordons, one of the proudest families in Scotland; and upon her marriage with handsome Jack Byron, her fortune was seized to pay his numerous debts. Consequently, at her husband's death a few years later, Mrs. Byron was left in the city of Aberdeen with scarcely enough to keep herself and her child from want. The tiny rooms in Broad Street were filled with the massive furniture and costly vases, mirrors, and china that Mrs. Byron had brought from her father's house at her bridal; but the cupboard was scantily provisioned, and much thought and labor were required to keep George's apparel in trim for school. While, however, Mrs. Byron spent only pennies where her neighbors lavished pounds, her brain and fingers contrived so successfully that neither she nor the lad ever presented a shabby appearance.
"Come, George," said the lady more gently, repenting her impatience, "put your books away, and May will serve tea at once."
The boy's face brightened, and whistling softly, he crossed the room to the bookshelves. The odd slide and sudden halt with which he moved, together with the stout cane upon which he leaned, betokened that "the little boy at Aberdeen" was not quite like other boys.
Sadly enough, George Byron was lame, a burden very hard for an impetuous lad to bear. He was, however, too plucky ever to allude to his affliction in the presence of his playmates, but carried his misfortune bravely and independently as long as his companions seemed to forget it, and seldom was any of them so unkind as to mention his crooked feet. Athletic sports were his chief delight, although there were few that he could enter. At running, leaping, and dancing he was helpless, always forced to stand aside and watch when these were in progress; but he was an expert archer, could throw farther than any boy at the grammar school, and with the sling his marksmanship was astonishing. He was a prime favorite with all the boys at school and in the neighborhood of Broad Street, and he was thoroughly accustomed to the rôle, for his handsome face and fun-loving disposition speedily won admiration wherever he went.
He gayly joined the boys in their pranks and adventures, often with his ringing voice and daring spirit commanding the expeditions, but, to the lads' amazement, he found his best enjoyment in the company of a little girl named Mary Duff. She was such a pretty child that passers-by often turned to look after her, and her soft voice and sweet manner showed her to be a real little gentlewoman. The mothers approved of this friendship, for they said that Mary improved George's manners, and that George helped Mary with her reading. The children loved each other dearly, and seldom did there pass a day when they two were not seen together.
To-night, at bedtime, George said:
"Wake me early, please, mother, for Mary, Aladdin, and I are going to spend the day by the river."