CHAPTER I.

CHARLEY'S POLITENESS.

"LITTLE boy! Can you tell me which is the road to Norwich?" asked Mr. Bryant.

Oscar Russel stood by the side of the road, with his fingers in his mouth. He heard the gentleman's question; but, instead of answering, he only stared at the carriage, the persons seated in it, and at the horse, pawing in his impatience to be gone.

"Are you deaf, child? Is this the direct road?" again inquired Mr. Bryant, feeling annoyed at the boy's obstinacy.

"There's a sign-board on ahead," said a woman, opening the door of the house opposite. "You'll find the way by that."

"That child has never learned politeness," remarked the lady in the carriage, smiling.

They rode on for another mile, when they came to a neat cottage set on the side of a hill. There was a pretty garden in front with cowslips and other flowers, all in bloom. At the side of the house there was a wide gate which stood open, and a cart, loaded with gravel, was rolling toward the barn, while the fat oxen drawing it were steaming from their toiling up the hill.

Mr. Bryant's horse went slowly, and both the lady and gentleman gazed at the rural scene. When they were opposite the front gate, a pleasant face, surrounded by dark auburn curls, peeped out at them from among the flowers.

The little fellow had a tiny cart, which he was filling with pebbles; but he stopped suddenly when he saw the travellers looking at him.

"What is your name?" asked Mr. Bryant, stopping the horse.

"Charley Monson," answered the child, his cheeks growing very rosy.

"Well, Charley, you are very busy, I see. What are you going to do with your stones?"

"I'm going to help Abel make the walks look pretty."

"Who is Abel?—Your brother?"

"Oh, no, sir!" Charley laughed. "He's our hired man. There he is tipping up the load."

"Can you bring me a tumbler of water, Charley?" asked the lady, pleasantly.

"Oh, yes, ma'am!" He ran toward the door; but returned in a minute, asking, "Don't you like milk? We've got plenty of nice, fresh milk."

"If your mother can spare me a glass of milk, it would be very refreshing."

"What a lovely boy!" she said, when he had darted into the house.

"It is easy to tell that he has a good mother," Mr. Bryant said, gazing at the neat orchards and nicely tilled fields.

[Illustration: Charley's Mother teaching him the Golden Rule.]

In about five minutes Charley appeared again. In one hand he held a pitcher, and in the other a tumbler.

"Take care and not spill the milk," said a soft voice, just inside the door.

Mr. Bryant threw the reins on Dolly's back (Dolly was the name of the horse), and took the pitcher from the boy.

"Thank you, my fine little fellow," he said, patting Charley's head.

Then he filled the tumbler and passed it to his wife, who said she hadn't tasted such nice milk for many a day.

"Wont you have some, too?" urged Charley.

"Oh, yes, indeed!" And he made a funny bow, at which Charley laughed and blushed.

"Now, how much shall I pay you for the milk, my boy? It's a great treat, I assure you."

"Oh, we don't want any pay, sir!" Charley's cheeks grew rosier than ever, as he drew back his hand, into which the gentleman was trying to put some money. "Mother was very happy to get it for you."

"Then, Charley, we'll accept it with many thanks."

"Tell your mother," said Mrs. Bryant, "that her son has honored her this afternoon by his good conduct."

The little fellow ran in with sparkling eyes. When he had carried the empty pitcher to the kitchen, he sat down by his mother and told her all about his new friends.

"I hope I shall see them again some time," he said; "they're real nice people."