In a few weeks, Mr. Bryant told his wife he had ordered a horse for a ride into the country, and should take the opportunity to make a call on their polite friend.
"May I do, too, papa?" eagerly asked Ida.
"Yes, dear. Don't forget to put in the books, wife."
When they came in sight of the house, Abel was at work on the sidewalk. He had finished the avenue, and it looked very nice, indeed; but Charley was nowhere to be seen.
Mr. Bryant gave his wife the reins, got out, and went through the gate to the front door. This was wide open; and, as he put up his hand to ring the bell, he heard the sound of a child's voice crying, up the stairs.
"Is Charley Monson at home?" he asked of the girl who came to answer his ring.
"Yes, sir; but he is in bed. I'll call his mother, sir."
She showed him to the parlor, and presently a lady, with the very brightest of blue eyes, came down the stairs into the room.
Mr. Bryant told her he was Charley's friend, and was very sorry to hear of his illness. "I told my little girl how polite he was, and she is very anxious to see him."
The lady then explained that her boy was not ill; he was in bed, in consequence of a blow he had received on his head from a bad boy, named Oscar Russel; that the doctor had been there and wanted to have them send a constable after Oscar, who was quite a nuisance in the town.