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Bob held forth the telegram. The other read it and said questioningly, “Well?”,

Kingthorpe was quiet and stately and a little awe-inspiring as usual. Miss Melling had gone to town and Uncle Isaac was ill in bed. After a little thought, Johnny Blossom sent the frame in to his uncle by the servant, with his best Christmas wishes. The servant was in livery and always carried a silver tray in his hand. Even when Uncle Isaac had nothing but gruel, he had it on a silver tray!,

“Our most popular author of books for little girls has this year forsaken them, and apparently gone over to the boys, since her book is about a boy; ... but I have yet to see the little girl who would not be glad to read of such a boy as Johnny Blossom.... Although a genuine boy, he is a right-minded little fellow with earnest childlike spirit; and he can never be thoroughly content until he has had his mother’s full forgiveness when he has been naughty, or, if he has wronged any one, until he has made restitution.”,

“You bet we found a place,” said Jerry. “The dam is already half built by nature. Besides, I feel sure a road can be made down from the top of the canyon.”

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The man knew his was a losing fight yet he wanted to struggle on. Through the years he had watched over his motherless boy, he had dreamed dreams. He had seen the time when Bob would enter his office, when he would become a partner and at last when he would take onto his young shoulders the whole burden of the work. It had been a good dream and he was loath to give it up. He made one more effort.,

Aunt Grenertsen had lived in the little house on King Street for an age, ever since he could remember; and everything she had was very old-fashioned. There was a cuckoo clock, and a blue glass jar with dried rose-leaves in; and on the window sill an old gray cat blinked and purred among the plants.,

His mind busy with these thoughts, he found that the long climb to the top did not bother him. After a wash-up he had supper and went out on the hotel piazza. The sun had gone but its last banners of light were flung up against the sky behind the farthest horizon. The depths of the Canyon were black. Out of this rose myriad pinnacles, dim in outline, rich in deep colors. Just at the opposite rim a strip of color spun along, tipping the horizon with a golden glow.,

“Yes, we love our grand old Norway!” Suddenly he stopped short. Think of his whistling in Kingthorpe Park! It was to be hoped that no one had heard. Of course you should be nice and quiet here. It was to be hoped, too, that that ill-tempered watchdog would not come growling along. Not that Johnny Blossom was afraid of him. Far from it! But that dog was so cross, you couldn’t like him.