Why I went to my Uncle’s. “I don’t know what to do with him. I never saw such a boy—a miserable little coward, always in mischief and doing things he ought not to do, and running about the place with his whims and fads. I wish you’d send him right away, I do.” My aunt went out of the room, and I can’t say she banged the door, but she shut it very hard, leaving me and my uncle face to face... more...

The Reason Why. “What do I think?” “Yes, out with it. Don’t be afraid.” “Oh, I’m not afraid; but I don’t want to quarrel with any man, nor to upset the lad.” “Speak out then. You will not quarrel with me, and I’m not afraid of your upsetting the lad. I like him to know the whole truth; don’t I, Steve?” “Yes, sir, of course,” cried the boy addressed, a well-built, sturdy... more...

“Have I Done Right?” “Better stay here, squire. Aren’t the land good enough for you?” “Oh yes; the land’s good enough, sir.” “Stop and take up a run close by. If you go yonder, the piggers’ll eat you without salt.” Here followed a roar of laughter from the party of idlers who were busy doing nothing with all their might, as they lounged about the wharves and warehouses of Port... more...

The Boy in the Garden. I always felt as if I should like to punch that boy’s head, and then directly after I used to feel as if I shouldn’t care to touch him, because he looked so dirty and ragged. It was not dirty dirt, if you know what I mean by that, but dirt that he gathered up in his work—bits of hay and straw, and dust off a shed floor; mud over his boots and on his toes, for you could see... more...

Down in the Country. “Here, I say, Josh, such a game!” “What is it?” The first speaker pointed down the gorge, tried to utter words, but began to choke with laughter, pointed again, and then stood stamping his feet, and wiping his eyes. “Well,” cried the other, addressed as Josh, “what is it? Don’t stand pointing there like an old finger-post! I can’t see anything.”... more...

In Wimpole Street. Sam—or, as he liked to be called, “Mr Samuel,” or “Mr Downes,” holding as he did the important post of confidential and body-servant to Dr Robert Morris, a position which made it necessary for him to open the door to patients and usher them into the consulting-room, and upon particular occasions be called in to help with a visitor who had turned faint about nothing—“a... more...

A Home at Sea. “Here, you, Vince!” cried Doctor Burnet, pausing in his surgery with a bottle in each hand—one large and the other small, the latter about to be filled for the benefit of a patient who believed himself to be very ill and felt aggrieved when his medical adviser told him that he would be quite well if he did not eat so much. “Yes, father.” The boy walked up to the surgery door at... more...

Flies and Boys. Hot as hot. Through the open window, where a couple of long shoots of one of the grapevines hung down, partially shading the room within, a broad, glowing ray of light, which made the shadows near look purply black, streamed right across the head of Marcus, a Roman lad of about eighteen, making his close, curly, brown hair glisten as if some of the threads were of gold, while the light... more...

Chapter One. Interesting? My life? Well, let me see. I suppose some people would call it so, for now I come to think of it I did go through a good deal; what with the fighting with the Spaniards, and the Indians, and the fire, and the floods, and the wild beasts, and such-like adventures. Yes; it never seemed to occur to me before, you know, me—George Bruton, son of Captain Bruton of the King’s... more...

Their Boy. “Well, why not be a soldier?” Philip Hexton shook his head. “No, father. There’s something very brave in a soldier’s career; but I should like to save life, not destroy it.” “You would save life in times of trouble; fight for your country, and that sort of thing.” “No, father; I shall not be a soldier.” “A sailor, then?” “I have not sufficient love of adventure,... more...