The imagination is buoyant, ethereal, and elevates poor mortals up to the stars sometimes.

It was so with Bobby.

He was building up some kind of an air castle, and had got up in the clouds amidst the fog and moonshine, and that aggravating voice brought him down, _slap_, upon terra firma.
He looked up and saw Tom Spicer seated upon the fence.

In his hand he held a bundle, and had evidently been waiting some time for Bobby's coming.
He had recovered from the illness caused by his broken arm, and people said it had been a good lesson for him, as the squire hoped it would be.

Bobby had called upon him two or three times during his confinement to the house; and Tom, either truly repentant for his past errors, or lacking the opportunity at that time to manifest his evil propensities, had stoutly protested that he had "turned over a new leaf," and meant to keep out of the woods on Sunday, stop lying and swearing, and become a good boy.
Bobby commended his good resolutions, and told him he would never want friends while he was true to himself.