"Never mind! You're a good little boy, after all. You wouldn't steal anything, would you, Henry?"
This sudden question was naturally rather startling. He had no answer ready.
"Oh, I know you wouldn't! But sometimes little birds steal. Did you hear that a magpie stole a watch the other day?"
"Well, here's some candy for you, Henry."
The boy held out his hand eagerly, though looking rather bewildered. Was the candy given because George Washington didn't "run and tell"? Or because magpies steal watches?
"Now, good night, Henry, and don't forget what: I've been saying to you."
Henry walked on, feeling somewhat ashamed, but enjoying the candy nevertheless. If his pretty teacher didn't want him to tell tales, he wouldn't do it any more. He would act just like George Washington; and then how would the big boys feel?
He did not forget his resolve. Next morning when Dave Blake ran out his tongue at him and Joe Rolfe said, "Got any chickens to sell?" he laughed with all his might, just to see how it would seem. Both the boys stared; they didn't understand it. "Hello, Chicken Little, what's the matter with you?"
Henry could see the eyes of his young teacher twinkling from between the slats of the window-blinds, and he spoke up with a courage quite unheard-of:—