But as Captain Horace was just preparing to add this finishing touch, a lady arrived with little twin-boys, four years old. Aunt Madge came into the shed to call Horace and Prudy. "O, auntie," said Horace, "I don't believe I care to play with those little persons!"
His aunt smiled at hearing children called "little persons," but told Horace it would not be polite to neglect his young visitors: it would be positively rude. Horace did not wish to be considered an ill-mannered boy, and at last consented to have his hands and garments cleansed with turpentine to erase the paint, and to go into the nursery to see the "little persons."
It seemed to him and Prudy that the visit lasted a great while, and that it was exceedingly hard work to be polite.
When it was well over, Prudy said, "The next lady that comes here, I hope she won't bring any little double boys! What do I love little boys for, 'thout they're my cousins?"
After the sled was carefully dried, Horace printed on it the words "Lady Jane," in large yellow letters. His friend Gilbert found the paint for this, and it was thought by both the boys that the sled could not have been finer if "Lady Jane" had been spread on with gold-leaf by a sign-painter.
"Now, Prudy," said Horace, "it isn't, everybody can make such a sled as that! It's right strong, too; as strong as—why, it's strong enough to 'bear up an egg'!"
If Horace had done only such innocent things as to "drill" the little boys, make sleds for Prudy, and keep store with Gilbert, his mother might have felt happy.
But Horace was growing careless. His father's parting words, "Always obey your mother, my son, and remember that God sees all you do," did not often ring in his ears now. Mr. Clifford, though a kind parent, had always been strict in discipline, and his little son had stood in awe of him. Now that he had gone away, there seemed to be some danger that Horace might fall into bad ways. His mother had many serious fears about him, for, with her feeble health, and the care of little Katie, she could not be as watchful of him as she wished to be. She remembered how Mr. Clifford had often said, "He will either make something or nothing," and she had answered, "Yes, there'll never be any half-way place for Horace." She sighed now as she repeated her own words.
In his voyages of discovery Horace had found some gunpowder. "Mine!" said he to himself; "didn't aunt Madge say we could have everything we found up-attic?"
He knew that he was doing wrong when he tucked the powder slyly into his pocket. He knew he did wrong when he showed it to Gilbert, saying,—