"Mr. Howland! I've come to make complaint against that boy of yours."
"Against Andrew?"
"Yes, sir. He's nearly killed my son!"
"Bless me!" exclaimed Mr. Howland, in a distressed voice. "What has happened? How did he do it?"
"Why, sir! without the slightest provocation, he took up a large stone and struck my boy with it on the forehead, knocking him down senseless. I have had to send for the doctor. It may cost him his life."
"Oh dear! dear! What will become of that boy?" exclaimed Mr. Howland, wringing his hands, and moving up and down the floor uneasily. "Knocked him down with a stone, you say?"
"Yes sir And that without any provocation. I can't stand this. I must, at least, protect the lives of my children. Every week I have had some complaint against your son; but I didn't wish to have a difficulty, and so said nothing about it. But this is going a little too far. He must have a dreadful temper."
"There is something very perverse about him," remarked Mr. Howland, sadly. "Ah, me! What am I to do?"
"There may have been some slight provocation," said the man, a little modified by the manner in which his complaint was received, and departing from his first assertion.
"Nothing to justify an assault like this," replied Mr. Howland with promptness. "Nothing! Nothing! The boy will be the death of me."