His hands
covered his face; and, by and by, a few large tears began to trickle
down his fingers. Then suddenly dashing off his tears, as though he
were ashamed of them, he showed his pale, agitated face, and said,
in a tone of indignation and resolve,
"Mother, I am determined I will bear it no longer."
Mary was not surprised. She finished pouring out the porridge; then,
taking a stool, she seated herself beside him.
"Why, Stephen," she said, trying to speak cheerfully, "how many
hundred times before have you made that resolution! But what's the
matter now? Have you any new trouble to tell me of?"
Stephen answered by silently removing with his hand some of his
thick curly hair, and showing beneath it an ear bearing the too
evident marks of cruel usage.
"My poor boy!" exclaimed Mary, her tears starting forth. "Could he
be so cruel?"
"It is nothing, mother," replied the boy, sorry to have called forth
his mother's tears. "I don't care for it. It was done in a passion,
and he was sorry for it after."
"But what could you have done, Stephen, to make him so angry with
you?"
"I was selling half a quire of writing paper to a lady: he counted
the sheets after me, and found thirteen instead of only twelve; they
had stuck together so that I took two for one.
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