No amount of coaxing could turn him from his purpose. So at last Kirke, after helping him to tie up the runner with some twine which they found in their pockets, tucked me under his arm, and we marched off to their little house.
Their kitchen was the cleanest, brightest, cheeriest place you ever saw, and the molasses taffy was splendid. I had a lovely time; but there was such a dreadful storm that Edward could not get back that night, and Jim had lamed himself somehow in stumbling through deep drifts; and it cost four dollars to mend the sleigh, which Edward had to pay, because my father said he did not believe in boys having their own way and not being willing to take the consequences. To be sure he gave the money back again, and more too, when Edward’s next birthday came. But I don’t think Edward ever forgot the lesson. I ought to have been punished too, for I pretended to agree with Edward, even when I thought he was foolish; but some way I slipped through the trouble and had all the pleasure, just as girls often do, I think.
THEY STARTED FOR AUNT MARGARET’S. (“Mother Dunlap’s Story.”)
“Mother,” said little Cathie Dunlap, “father’s middle name is Kirke; did he have anything to do with the nice boy who took care of you?”
“Why, yes,” said Mother Dunlap, laughing, “come to think of it, his full name was William Kirke Dunlap.”
Myra Spafford.
HUNGER AND THIRST.
