Mrs. Russel had threatened that if she ever saw Charley or his mother, she'd tell what an ugly scamp the boy was, to knock her son down. But when she saw them, she knew at once that Oscar had told a lie.
Mrs. Monson seemed so much interested for her, and inquired so earnestly about Oscar's studies, whether he was fond of reading, whether he went regularly to school, that she was about to tell the lady all her trials with him, when the children entered.
"How do you do, Oscar?" inquired the lady.
His face turned fiery red, but he did not reply.
"Do you like pretty stories?" she added, untying the bundle. "See, I have brought you some books. I hope you will like them. Charley likes them very much."
All this time Oscar stood with his fingers in his mouth, making figures with his bare toes on the floor. When the lady held the books toward him, instead of taking them he burst into a loud cry, and tried to run away.
His mother caught him and would have boxed his ears; but Mrs. Monson begged her not to do so.
"I think we shall understand each other soon," she said, pleasantly.
Charley, too, tried to soothe his companion; but the more they said, the more he cried, until all at once, he called out,—
"Didn't you know I threw a stone at him? I did, and I tried to run off with his cart. I don't want the books; I'd rather you'd lick me and done with it."