Willy ran out with his basket, and never asked again to hear the story of the boy and the two pails. But the wood-pile seemed to be lying on top of his heart, crushing him, till he was relieved by a bright idea.
Why not stand some sticks upright in the bottom of the box, and then lay the rest of the wood on top of them? It would look just the same as usual; but what a help!
The box was in the entry, and the "fore-room" door shut; he could cheat as well as not.
"Now I'll have lots of time to play!"
"What, you here yet, Willy?" said his mother, opening the door. She thought he had been an unusually long while filling the box; and so he had. It was new business, doing it in this way, and it took time.
"I supposed you had gone, darling, for I didn't hear you whistle."
Willy whistled faintly, as he laid on the last stick. How lucky his mother hadn't opened the door sooner!
"That's a nice big box full, my son. You please your mother this morning. Come here and kiss me."
Willy went, and then Mrs. Parlin, who was a fine singer, and knew a great many ballads, sang, smiling,—
"Ho! why dost thou shiver and shake,
Gaffer Gray?
And why doth thy nose look so blue?"