CHAPTER V.

GOOD FOR EVIL.

OSCAR was not in the habit of telling his mother what he had done, as good boys and girls always do. I am sorry to say that, when he had reached home, and his mother had scolded him for staying so long, he told her a wicked lie.

"I was going by Mr. Monson's gate," he said, peevishly, "and Charley came out, and knocked me down, and spilled most all the soup."

"Why didn't you kick him?" exclaimed the wicked mother.

Oscar said nothing; but, after eating his supper in silence, he went off to bed.

Two days after this, he was sitting idly in the sun, near a pile of small wood, which his mother had tried to coax him to split, when Mr. Monson's carriage stopped at the door, and Charley jumped out. He had a bandage around his head, and looked very pale.

Oscar trembled. Bad boys are always cowards, because their consciences tell them they have done wrong and deserve punishment.

Then Mrs. Monson followed with a very large and heavy bundle in her arms.

"I'll run off, I wont see 'em," said Oscar to himself.

But Charley had already seen him, and ran pleasantly forward, exclaiming, in a cheerful voice,—

"Hollo, Oscar! Come and see what mother has brought you."

Oscar looked into the bright, happy face and wondered. His thoughts were very much confused; but if he could only have straightened them out, they would have been something very much like this,—

"What does it mean? She bring me something! If anybody had thrown a stone at me, I guess you wouldn't catch mother carrying 'em anything."

Charley could not get at Oscar's thoughts; but he imagined it very strange the boy did not answer. Presently he said again,—

"Come, mother's waiting to see you."

"I wont either," was the sullen reply. "I know what she's after; she's going to give me a licking."

"Oh, no, indeed!" was Charley's eager reply. "You don't know how much mother talks about you. She and I want to have you grow a real good boy; and then you could come and play with me. I've got ever so many pretty games. Oh, we'd have real nice times! Come into the house, and mother will tell you all about it."

Oscar, though he had all his life been a wicked child, had a warm place in his heart. Charley's kind words touched this place and made the tears come into his eyes. He couldn't understand what it meant; but when Charley held out his hand, he took it and walked up the narrow path to the front door.

Mrs. Russel had threatened that if she ever saw Charley or his mother, she'd tell what an ugly scamp the boy was, to knock her son down. But when she saw them, she knew at once that Oscar had told a lie.

Mrs. Monson seemed so much interested for her, and inquired so earnestly about Oscar's studies, whether he was fond of reading, whether he went regularly to school, that she was about to tell the lady all her trials with him, when the children entered.

"How do you do, Oscar?" inquired the lady.

His face turned fiery red, but he did not reply.

"Do you like pretty stories?" she added, untying the bundle. "See, I have brought you some books. I hope you will like them. Charley likes them very much."

All this time Oscar stood with his fingers in his mouth, making figures with his bare toes on the floor. When the lady held the books toward him, instead of taking them he burst into a loud cry, and tried to run away.

His mother caught him and would have boxed his ears; but Mrs. Monson begged her not to do so.

"I think we shall understand each other soon," she said, pleasantly.

Charley, too, tried to soothe his companion; but the more they said, the more he cried, until all at once, he called out,—

"Didn't you know I threw a stone at him? I did, and I tried to run off with his cart. I don't want the books; I'd rather you'd lick me and done with it."

"I'm sure you will never throw another stone at him," said Mrs. Monson, seriously. "The doctor said it was a wonder it had not killed him." She lifted the bandage and showed him the blackened skin.

Oscar's lip quivered; and, with another burst of tears, he sobbed out,—

"I never was sorry before. I wish you'd lick me; I'd feel better;—I would."

"No," said the lady, kindly; "Charley and I want to do something better than that; we wish to forgive you, and try to make you a better boy."

Then Charley took Oscar's hand, and whispered,—

"I love you, Oscar."

To his surprise the boy threw himself on the floor, and sobbed as if his heart would break.

His mother began to scold him; but he paid no attention to her; he kept sobbing out,—

"Oh, dear! I'm sorry. I wish you'd lick me. Oh, oh! I never was sorry before. Oh, dear!"