Gilbert Irwin appeared at Mr. Dunlee’s next morning, holding in his hand a tiny lizard-skin purse, containing a dime and a nickel.

“Come, Jimmy,” said he; “let’s go get our candy.”

Before Jimmy could answer, the Chinese vegetable man, Quon Wo, drove up to the back door, calling out in a high, squealing tone.—

“Platoes, sleet corn, cabbagee, spinny-gee!”

“What’s a spinny-gee? Give us a spinny-gee!” laughed both the boys, running up to Quon Wo, whom they knew very well.

“Go ’way! Too much, talkee, talkee!” replied the Chinaman, grinning, and showing nearly all his white teeth. At the same time, being ready for a frolic, he pelted both the boys with a handful of spinach.

Vendla stood in the doorway with a basket and a pan. She bought potatoes and celery. These went into her basket, and then she held out the pan for something else.

Quon Wo knew what she wanted. He had promised her some nice fresh ducks’ eggs; and there they were, under the seat of the cart in a pretty tea-chest.

“Duckee! Duckee!” said Quon Wo. “Duckee heap good!” and counted out the eggs into her pan, twelve of them, and then drove away.

The boys would have run after him, but Jimmy happened to remember why the ducks’ eggs had been spoken for. John wanted to put them under a hen, to be hatched into ducklings. And here came John, carrying in his arms a white hen, squawking angrily.

“Oh, yes, you must, Polly White; yes, you must!” said John. “You’ve been wanting to for a good while, and now we’re ready for you. Come, Vendla, bring on your ducks’ eggs.”

Vendla went to the stable with the pan; the little boys, the dog Punch and his friend Toby, Mrs. Porter’s dog, close at her heels. After the eggs had been put in a nice nest of straw, John placed Mrs. White over them, covering her up with a basket.

“Now stay there,” said John, “and see how you like it.”

Polly was very young, and had never sat on any eggs before. She had thought it would be good fun; but when the basket was put over her, she felt as if she should fly. It was not pleasant to be shut up in the dark.

“How long will she have to stay?” asked Gilbert.

“Four weeks. ’Twill be easy keeping count; four weeks from Fourth of July.”

The words “Fourth of July” reminded Gilbert that he must buy his candy.

“Come, Jimmy,” said he, shaking his purse up and down. He liked to hear the coins jingle. “Where’s your purse, Jimmy?”

Jimmy drew out of his pocket a small, very pretty mother-of-pearl portemonnaie, and sighed as he opened it. It held a nickel and a one-cent stamp.

“I can’t buy any candy to-day; but you can buy yours all the same.”

“Why can’t you?”

“’Cause I can’t.”

“Oh, ho! been a bad boy?”

“Not much; not very; no!”

Then, as Gilly jingled his money again, Jimmy added rather tartly,—

“Not half so bad as you are, Gilly Irwin!”

“Me? Who said I’s bad?”

“Well, you are; but your mamma doesn’t know it, and that’s why you don’t be punished.”

Gilly whistled. Perhaps he felt that there was some truth in this.

“Your mamma punishes you more’n you are naughty,” he said.

“Now you stop!” cried Jimmy. “My mamma always finds out things. She isn’t talking all the time with ladies in the parlor, the way your mamma is.”

“Pshaw! You think you have the best mamma and best papa and best everything!” exclaimed Gilly.

“So I have!” said Jimmy confidently.

This was more than even the mild-tempered Gilly could bear.

“What you mean? My papa is a major, and yours isn’t!”

“H’m! My papa doesn’t want to be a major, and that’s why! Some people perfers to be ministers!” Jimmy’s eyes were growing fiery. “Don’t you know,” he went on, “ministers are the nicest men there is in this world?”

But Gilly refused to be crushed.

“Has your papa got a coat with gold cushions on the shoulders, Jimmy Dunlee? Does he go march, marching, when they beat the drum?”

“No; he just despises to go march, marching! He stays in his pulpit, I s’pose you know!”

The foolish dispute might have gone on much longer if Gilbert had not changed the subject by saying,—

“I want some cocoanut taffy.”

But Gilly’s “candy-man” was away that morning. He had just started with his wife and children for a picnic.

Jimmy did not care very much.

“See the folks, lots and lots of ’em, going to Fourth o’ July,” said he. “You can’t get any candy to-day, Gil Irwin.”

“Yes, I can. I know where I can get some, better’n you ever saw. There are some new ladies in that yellow house by the corner that sell it. I went there the other day with mamma, and got some.”

“Let’s go there, then,” said Jimmy.

They turned into a quiet street, and walked three or four blocks, till they came to a pretty buff cottage half covered with roses.

The “new ladies,”—really quite old ones,—had lately bought it to live in; and of course it was not a shop, and they kept nothing to sell. Only, as it happened, they had given Gilly a cake of maple-sugar the Thursday before, when he called there with his mamma.

“It doesn’t look a bit like a shop,” said Jimmy, as they walked up to the front door of this quiet house, and Gilly pounded on the screen-door. There was an electric bell at the side. Jimmy did not think candy-shops generally had electric bells. It was too late, however, to turn back.

A sweet old lady came into the hall, looking rather surprised. She naturally thought that only rude children would pound in this way for admission; yet these boys did not look rude nor disrespectful.

“How do you do, my dears? Oh, this is Gilbert Irwin, I think. But whom have you brought with you, Master Gilly?”

“My name is James Sanford Dunlee,” replied Jimmy, bowing low, hat in hand.

“Ah, yes, the minister’s son. I’m glad to see you both. Please walk in.”

Gilbert entered, followed slowly by Jimmy.

“Can you sell us some candy, ma’am?” asked Gilly in a low voice. It was dawning upon him that he had made some mistake.

“Candy? Did you think I kept it to sell?”

Mrs. Alvord smiled as she asked the question. She was a gentle, graceful lady, all in black. She had been putting on her bonnet when the children knocked, and had not finished tying the strings.

“I don’t keep candy to sell. You’ve come to the wrong place, my dears.”

“Oh!” said Jimmy.

“Oh!” echoed Gilly, gazing regretfully at his portemonnaie. He had kept it all the while in his hand.

“Have you been trying to buy candy?”

“Yes, ma’am,” answered Gilly; “but the candy-men ’most all have gone off to Fourth o’ July.”

“What a pity!” said Mrs. Alvord. “I wish I had some candy for you.”

“Come, Gilly,” whispered Jimmy, plucking his companion by the sleeve. “Come, Gilly; let’s go.”

“Wait a minute,” said Mrs. Alvord. “My sister, Mrs. Lewis, keeps peppermints sometimes in a box on her bureau. Now, if peppermints will only do?”

She had turned to go up the staircase. Jimmy felt that it was not polite to give the kind lady all this trouble; but before he could think exactly what to say, or indeed whether he ought to say anything at all, she was gone.

She soon returned, bearing in her hand a pretty gilt-edged plate, on which were several peppermints, pink and white.

“Just fourteen. I’m so glad there were any left!” said she, smiling. “Mrs. Lewis wishes she had a boxful. Now hold out your hands, little boys, and I’ll divide. Seven for you, Master Gilly, and seven for you, Master Jamie.”

Gilbert had opened his lizard-skin wallet by this time, and was offering Mrs. Alvord first the nickel, and then the dime.

“No; oh, no; keep your money, child! I give you the peppermints.”

And she put half of them in his hand. He dropped purse and coins on the hall carpet, and for a minute forgot to say “Thank you.”

“And here are yours, Master James.”

But James did not hold out his hand.

“Don’t you like peppermints?”

“Yes, I thank you.”

“Then why not take them? Gilbert has had his share.”

Jimmy dropped his eyes to the black ruffles on the lady’s skirt, then turned shyly away. Must folks always answer folks’ questions? Yes; he had been taught that they must. So, in a low voice, but, as I think, very bravely, he replied,—

“Mamma told me not to buy any candy to-day.”

“He’s been a naughty boy,” struck in Gilbert, who certainly might have kept quiet.

Mrs. Alvord looked from one boy to the other, her glance resting at last very kindly on Jimmy.

“But, my dear, you are not buying this candy; it is given you.”

Still Jimmy did not reach forth his hand.

“Ah! you really think you ought not to take it? Then don’t do it by any means. You are a noble, manly, little boy, James Dunlee.”

Jimmy blushed for pleasure, but could not raise his eyes. Oh, wasn’t it grand to be called a manly boy!

“You may have been naughty once, but you are good now, and I shall tell your mamma so. I’m going to your house to dinner.”

Jimmy’s little face was radiant. Mamma would know he was manly after all!

“And now shall I give the rest of the peppermints to Gilbert?” asked Mrs. Alvord.

Gilbert took them eagerly, wondering why Jimmy had refused them, and suspecting that Jimmy did not care much for peppermints.

“That’s the ‘Jimmy-boy’ the blind Mrs. Pope talks so much about. He is a boy to be proud of,” said Mrs. Alvord, as she finished tying her bonnet-strings before the glass in her sister’s room.

“Dear little fellow!” returned Mrs. Lewis. “I am so glad I shall see him to-day.”