"Well, I'm looking."

"Now, Gid Noonin!"

"Yes; that's my name!"

"I shan't go a step!"

"So I wouldn't," returned Gid, coolly. "I only asked you for fun."

"O--h! H'm! Are you going to swim in the brook or the river?"

"Brook, you goosie. Prime place down there by the old willow tree.

Don't you wish I'd let you go?"

"No; for my mother says--"

"O, _does_ she, though?"

"My mother says--"

"Lor, now, Billy b.u.t.ton!"

"Hush, Gid; my mother says--"

"A pretty talking woman your mother is!" struck in Gid, squinting his eyes.

What a witty creature Gid was! w.i.l.l.y could hardly keep from laughing.

"Can't you let me speak, Gid Noonin? My mother says she won't--"

"Says she _won't_? That's real wicked kind of talk! I'm ashamed of your mother!"

w.i.l.l.y laughed. Gid did have _such_ a way of making up faces!

"Come on, you little girl-baby! Guess I _will_ take you, if you won't cry."

w.i.l.l.y laughed again. It was not at all painful, but extremely funny, to hear Gid call names, for he never did it in a provoking way at all.

"Come along, you little tip end of a top o' my thumb."

"No, _sir_. Shan't go a step!"

w.i.l.l.y was a boy that meant to mind his mother.

"But I s'pose you'll have to go if I take you."

w.i.l.l.y caught himself by the left ear. He felt the need of holding on by something; still he was somehow afraid he should have to go in spite of his ears. Was there ever such a boy as Gid for teasing?

"Why, Gid Noonin, I told you my mother said--"

"No, you didn't! You haven't told me a thing! You stutter so I can't understand a word."

At the idea of his stuttering, w.i.l.l.y laughed outright; and during that moment of weakness was picked up and set astride of Gid's shoulders.

"You put me down! My mother says I shan't play with you; so there!"

cried w.i.l.l.y, struggling manfully, yet a little pleased, I must confess, to think he couldn't possibly help himself.

"Ride away, ride away. Billy shall ride," sang Gid, bouncing his burden up and down.

w.i.l.l.y felt like a dry leaf in an eddy, which is whirled round and round, yet is all the while making faster and faster for the hungry dimple in the middle, where there is no getting out again.

"O, dear, Gid's such a great big boy, and I'm _only_ just eight,"

thought he, jolting up and down like a bag of meal on horseback. Well, it would be good fun, after all, to go in swimming,--splendid fun, when there was somebody to hold you up, and keep you from drowning. If you could forget that your mother had told you not to play with Gid Noonin!

"If you get the string of that medal wet you'll catch it," said Gid.

"Better take it off and put it in your pocket."

"Just a-going to," said w.i.l.l.y. "D'you think I's a fool?"

Well, wasn't it nice! The water feeling so ticklish all over you, and--

Why, no, it wasn't nice at all; it was just frightful! After two or three dives, Gid had snapped his fingers in his face, and gone off and left him. w.i.l.l.y couldn't swim any more than a fish-hook. Where _was_ Gid?

"The water's up to my chin. Come, Gid, quick!"

What would Seth and Stephen say if they knew how he was abused? No--his mother? No--Love, and Caleb, and Liddy? How they would feel! There wasn't any bottom to this brook, or if there ever had been it had dropped out.

"O, Gid, I can't stand up."

Gid was in plain sight now, on the bank, pretending to skip stones. Gid was like a Chinese juggler; he could make believe do one thing, while he was really doing another.

"Quick! Quick! Quick! I shall dro--ow--own!"

Gid took his own time; but as he swam slowly back to his trembling little playmate, he was "rolling a sweet morsel under his tongue," which tasted very much like a silver medal--with the string taken out.

"What d'you go off for?" gasped w.i.l.l.y.

"For fun, you outrageous little ninny!" mumbled Gid, tickling w.i.l.l.y under the arms. "I'm going to get you out, now, and dress you, and send you home to your mother."

"Dress me, I guess!"

"Well, you'd better scamper!" said Gid, hurriedly, as they got into their clothes. "Your mother'll have a fit about you."

"My mother? No, she won't. She don't spect the codfish and mackerel till most supper-time. She said I might play, but she wasn't willing I should play with you, though, Gid Noonin," said little w.i.l.l.y, squeezing the water out of his hair.

"But you did, you little scamp! Now run along home. I can't stop to talk. Got to saw wood."

"Then what made you creep so awful slow when I called to you?" asked w.i.l.l.y, indignantly.