"About Ella?" said Mary.
"No, not about Ella, but about myself; I'm coming here to live with you."
"Coming here to live!" repeated Mary with astonishment. "What for? Are your folks all dead?"
Billy smiled and answered, "Not quite so bad as that. I went to school here two years ago, and I know I learned more than I ever did at home in two seasons. The boys, when Henry Lincoln is away, don't act half as badly as they do in the village; and then they usually have a lady teacher, because it's cheaper I suppose, for they don't pay them half as much as they do gentlemen, and I think they are a great deal the best. Any way, I can learn the most when I go to a woman."
"But what makes you come here, and what will your mother do?" asked Mary.
"She's got a sister come from the West to stay with her, and as I shall go home every Saturday night, she'll get along well enough. I heard Mr. Parker in the store one day inquiring for a boy to do chores. So after consulting mother, I offered my services, and was accepted. Won't we have real nice times going to school together, and then I've brought a plaything for you. Are you afraid of dogs?"
So saying he gave a whistle, and a large Newfoundland dog came bounding through the orchard. At first Mary drew back in alarm, for the dog, though young, was unusually large; but her fears soon vanished when she saw how affectionate he was, licking her own and Alice's hands, and bounding playfully upon his master's shoulders.
"He is a nice fellow," said she, stroking his shaggy sides. What do you call him?"
"Tasso," answered Billy; and then seeing Mr. Parker at a distance, and wishing to speak to him, he walked away.
Three weeks from that time the winter school commenced; and Billy took up his abode at the poor-house, greatly to the satisfaction of Sally and Mary, and greatly to the annoyance of Miss Grundy, who, since Patsy's death, was crosser and more fault-finding than ever.