"If you're not down here, with your jacket on, in one minute, I'll warm your shoulders well for you."
Mr. Belknap was quite in earnest in this threat, a fact plainly enough apparent to John Thomas in the tone of his father's voice. Not just wishing to have matters proceed to this extremity, the boy opened a closet, and, singularly enough, there hung his jacket in full view. At the expiration of the minute, he was standing before his disturbed father, with his jacket on, and buttoned up to the chin.
"Where's your hat?" now asked Mr. Belknap.
"I don't know, sir."
"Well, find it, then."
"I've looked everywhere."
"Look again. There! What is that on the hat rack, just under my coat?"
The boy answered not, but walked moodily to the rack, and took his hat therefrom.
"Ready at last. I declare I'm out of all patience with your slow movements and sulky manner. What do you stand there for, knitting your brows and pouting your lips? Straighten out your face, sir! I won't have a boy of mine put on such a countenance."
The lad, thus angrily and insultingly rated, made a feeble effort to throw a few rays of sunshine into his face. But, the effort died fruitless. All was too dark, sullen, and rebellious within his bosom.