CHAPTER IV.

WICKED OSCAR.

I MUST now go back a little, and tell you how it happened that Oscar, who lived nearly a mile away, should come to Charley's house, and be so angry with him.

Mr. Russel, Oscar's father, was a brickmaker; that is, he made bricks, such as many houses are built with. The brick-yard, as it was called, was but a short distance from Mr. Monson's house, and the man had to pass it to get to his work.

He toiled very hard for twelve long hours, and of course needed good food to sustain him. He used to ask his wife to send Oscar at noon with some warm dinner; and she would often have cooked it, if she could have persuaded her boy to carry it.

But many times he would say, "I wont," or he would cry and stamp his foot, and complain that no other boy had to walk so far.

Sometimes she would coax him to go, by the promise of candy or cake; but, as he soon found that his mother did not hesitate to tell a lie; that she often promised what she did not intend to perform; he flatly refused to obey her.

But, on the day of Mr. Bryant's visit, Mrs. Russel had some beef soup, of which her husband was very fond; so she told Oscar he must carry a pailful to his father, or he should have none for himself.

After a great deal of trouble and many hard words from both the mother and son, he started away, Mrs. Russel standing in the doorway and telling him to hurry as fast as he could, or the soup would be cold.

But Oscar had no idea of hurrying. He walked on very leisurely for a while, until he saw a squirrel run along the top of the stone wall. Then he set down his pail and chased the poor, frightened creature until it fled for safety into the limb of a large oak-tree.

In his haste to catch the squirrel, he had set the pail on a stone which had tipped over, and nearly half of the soup was spilled.

Instead of being sorry that his father's dinner was spoiled, he only laughed, and said,—

"Now I'm glad, for 'twont be so heavy."

By and by he came to Mr. Monson's neat cottage. Charley was playing with his cart in the yard, and said, pleasantly,—

"Hollo, Oscar!"

"Now, if I had that cart," said Oscar, "it would be easy to drag my pail." He waited till Charley came very near, and then he snatched it, and began to run away.

But Abel had seen him, and soon made him let the handle of the cart drop.

All this time Charley stood still with astonishment. He could not conceive what made Oscar so very naughty.

Abel turned back to his work, when, all at once, he heard a dreadful scream. The wicked boy had thrown a large stone and hit the little fellow in the temple.

Abel was very angry, indeed. He wanted to run after Oscar and punish him as he deserved; but he saw his little pet lying on the ground, and he concluded to attend to him, and let the rascal, as he called him, go till another time.

When Mrs. Monson saw her precious child lying faint and trembling in Abel's arms, she was frightened, indeed. She told the man to saddle the horse and ride as quickly as he could for the doctor.

Then she bathed the great swelling with cold water, until the physician came. He said it was a dangerous place to be hurt, and that it would take a long time to heal.

When Charley felt better, she talked with him about Oscar, pitying the child that he had not been better taught, and then asked her boy if he would like to have Abel catch Oscar and beat him, as he was anxious to do.

"Oh, no, indeed, mother! I wouldn't have him hurt for anything."

He lay on his pillow for a long time without speaking, and then he said,—

"Mother, I've thought of a plan. I wish we could get Oscar here. You might talk with him; and then I'd give him some of my toys. I think he would be a good boy if he knew anybody loved him."

This was what Mrs. Monson meant when she told Mr. Bryant that she and Charley had a plan. In the next chapter, I shall tell you how the plan succeeded. Now I will only say that Oscar was so frightened at what he had done, and so sure he should get the punishment he deserved, that he dared not go home till it was quite dark, and then he crept along past Mr. Monson's house very slyly, like a thief.