When I am grown up, it will belong to Agnes.
What shall I put on it?
What's mine's papa's, and what's papa's is his own," argued Willie.--"_I_ know!" he said to himself at last.
The boys couldn't imagine what he meant to do when they saw him draw first a D and then an O on the frame.

But when they saw a C and a T follow, they thought what a conceited little prig Willie was! "Do you think you're a doctor because your father is, you little ape ?" they said.
"No, no," answered Willie, laughing heartily, but thinking, as he went on with his work, that he might be one some day.
When the drawing of the letters was finished, there stood, all round the slate, "_Doctor Macmichael's Willie, The Ruins, Priory Leas_." Then out came his knife.

But it was a long job, for Willie was not one of those slovenly boys that _scamp_ their work.

Such boys are nothing but soft, pulpy creatures, who, when they grow to be men, will be too soft for any of the hard work of the world.

They will be fit only for buffers, to keep the working men from breaking their heads against each other in their eagerness.