"Why," exclaimed Bob, pretending to start with surprise, "if here isn't the ladies' pet! and getting his dinner too," said Bob, stooping down to look curiously in the dish that was on Charlie's knee.
"Pie," he remarked, "and very good it looks; what else? Oh, cakes! well, I'm in luck's way to-day, I am," breaking a piece off one and putting it in his mouth. "What's in the can?" he asked, pointing to it with his foot.
"Water," answered Charlie, trying hard to keep his temper.
"Well, you're a one to know manners," said Bob, "never to offer one a place to sit down on—move along. I'll hold the dish;" and suiting the action to the word, he snatched it up, and before Charlie had recovered himself, the rest of the pie was half eaten.
CHARLIE AND THE PIE.
"Give me that dish," said Charlie, trembling with passion.
Bob paused, and put on an injured countenance. "Can't you wait until I've finished? shouting out for the dish like that."
Unseen by them both a gentleman was standing in the shade, watching the whole affair, and just as Charlie was rushing upon Bob like a little whirlwind, he stood out in front of them in the lamplight. Bob dropped the dish in his fright, and stood with his hands hanging down and his mouth open, staring in dismay at Mr. Carlton, the viewer.
Mr. Carlton took out his note-book, and turning to one of the pages, quietly said, "This is the third time, White, that I have found you quarrelling with and tantalizing boys younger than yourself, and neglecting your work. Now this shall be the last time; you leave on Saturday night."