Plaguing his mother, amusing himself as best he could, riding about the country on a good mare, of which he was proud, he was living in utter idleness, affording occasion for much wonder that he had never yet disgraced himself.

He talked to everybody who would talk to him, and made acquaintance with anybody on the spur of the moment's whim.

He would sit on a log with a gypsy, and bamboozle him with lies made for the purpose, then thrash him for not believing them.

He called here and called there, made himself specially agreeable everywhere, went to every ball and evening party to which he could get admittance in the neighborhood, and flirted with any girl who would let him.

He meant no harm, neither had done much, and was imagined by most incapable of doing any.