In making this speech, Aunt Deborah's features relaxed into a pleasant smile; and Sam smiled too, and was so pleased that he could hardly utter his thanks.
"And mind you," continued she, suddenly changing the current of his thoughts, "don't associate with that Flipper boy!"
"Please, ma'am," said Sam, feeling a twinge of conscience that his former companion should bear so much of the blame, "you have been very kind to me, but Bill Philper didn't know the stone would turn as it did, and break your window."
"Then why did he run away?" inquired Aunt Deborah somewhat fiercely. "It's quite proper that you should try to excuse him, Sam; but I should like to teach him a good lesson?"
"You—you—have taught me a good lesson," said Sam, with a blushing face, "and I—I—thank you very much for it."
Aunt Deborah smiled benignly again, and warmly bidding Sam to come often to see her, she let him out at the door.
She felt very happy as Sam disappeared down the street, and he was very happy, as he hurried home with his great bundle, and told his mother all about it, which made that good woman very happy, too. So they were very happy all around.
And it all came about because Sam had stood up like a brave boy to confess his wrong, which is always manly; and had offered reparation for it, which is always right; and had gone forward, in spite of the taunts of his companions, denying himself pleasures and comforts in order to do that which he knew to be right, which is always heroic.