"You shall hear, by and by, all it is best for you to know," replied Mrs. Parlin. And after dinner was served, and Siller had gone home, she told him that Siller's nephew, Gideon Noonin, had been a very naughty boy—worse than people generally supposed him to be.
She did not like to repeat the whole of the sad story,—how he had stolen money from Mr. Griggs, the toll-gatherer, and how poor Mr. Noonin, the father, had paid it back by selling some sheep, and begged Mr. Griggs not to send his bad son to jail. She did not wish Willy to know all this; but she told him she was more than ever convinced that Gideon was a wicked boy.
"I don't know what makes you little children all like him so well," said she. "He may be funny and good-natured, but he is not a suitable playmate for anybody, especially for a small boy like you. Remember the old proverb, 'Eggs should not dance with stones.'"
Willy looked deeply interested while his mother was talking, and said he would never speak to Gideon except to answer questions.
"But he does ask so many questions! I tell you, mamma, he's always taking hold of you, and asking if you don't want to go somewhere, or do something. And then he makes you go right along and do it, 'cause he's so big. Why he's twice as big as me, mother; but he can't spell worth a cent."
A little while after this, Willy ran off, whistling, to buy some mackerel and codfish at Daddy Wiggins's store. Before he reached the store, he heard a voice up in the air calling out to him,—
"Hullo, Billy Button! what you crying about down there?"
Willy stopped whistling, and looked up to see where the voice came from. Gideon Noonin was sitting on the bough of a great maple tree, eating gingerbread. The sight of his face filled Willy with strange feelings. What a naughty, dreadful face it was, with the purple scar across the left cheek! Willy had never admired that scar, but now he thought it was horrible. His mother was right: Gid must be a very bad boy.
At the same time Gid's eyes danced in the most enticing manner, and laughing gleefully he threw down a great ragged piece of gingerbread, which Willy knew, from past experience, must be remarkably nice. It was glazed on the top as smooth as satin, and had caraway seeds in it, and another kind of spice of an unknown name. Willy intended to obey his mother, and beware of Gideon; but who had ever told him to beware of Gideon's gingerbread? Gid might be bad, but surely the gingerbread wasn't! Moreover, if nobody ate it, it would get stepped on in the road, and wasted. So to save it Willy opened his mouth and began to nibble. No harm in that—was there?
"Wan't to go swimming, Billy?"