"It's all right, mother," he said, giving Mrs.Morris a hearty, boyish kiss, as she stood waiting for him.

"I don't mind letting her have it." "But you expected to sell that one, didn't you ?" she asked.
"Mrs.Smith said maybe she'd take it when she came home from Boston, but I dare say she'd change her mind and get one there." "How much were you going to ask for him ?" "Well, I wouldn't sell Barry for less than ten dollars, or rather, I wouldn't have sold him," and he ran out to the stable.
Mrs.Morris sat on the hall chair, patting me as I rubbed against her, in rather an absentminded way.

Then she got up and went into her husband's study, and told him what Carl had done.
Mr.Morris seemed very pleased to hear about it, but when his wife asked him to do something to make up the loss to the boy, he said: "I had rather not do that.

To encourage a child to do a kind action, and then to reward him for it, is not always a sound principle to go upon." But Carl did not go without his reward.

That evening, Mrs.Montague's coachman brought a note to the house addressed to Mr.Carl Morris.