Isn't that fair, boys?"
"Yes, yes," assented they all, with eagerness.
"And as you have by your own admission treated Harry rather badly,
suppose you make it up to him by coming here in the morning, carrying
the roses to his house, and owning that you regret your behavior."
It was rather a bitter pill, but the boys swallowed it bravely.
Next day, as Harry and his mother, laden with dog-wood boughs and
branches of lilac, set out for the little spot most sacred to them on
earth, they met a procession which was headed by Frank Fletcher. The
procession had a drum and a flag, and it had roses galore.
"Honest roses, Harry," said Frank. "The Squire is at home and he gave
them to us for you. Let me tell you about it."
The story was told from beginning to end. Then Mrs. Pemberton said,
"Now, boys, take for your everlasting motto from this time forth, 'Clean
hands and a pure heart.'"
Our Cats.
The first cat of our recollection was a large, sleek, black and white
animal, the pet and plaything of our very early childhood. Tom, as we
called him, seemed much attached to us all, but when we moved from the
house of his kittendom and attempted to keep him with us, we found that
we had reckoned without our host; all our efforts were in vain; the cat
returned to its former home and we gave it up as lost to us.
The months sped along and we children had almost forgotten our late
favorite, when one day he came mewing into the yard, and in so pitiable
a condition that all our hearts were moved for him.
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