"I hope not. Oscar's about as mean a boy as I know. He's very different from you and Albert."

Meanwhile unconscious of the loss of one of their little household Mr.

and Mrs. Sprague and Oscar slumbered on till after sunrise.

"Get up, Oscar!" called Nahum Sprague, going to his son's room. "You must get up."

"What must I get up for?" grumbled Oscar.

"Because you will have to do Philip's ch.o.r.es this morning."

"Why don't you call him, pa? I don't see why I should do his work."

"Because he is locked up for punishment. I am not ready to let him out yet."

"It seems to me I am being punished. He has nothing to do while I have to get up early and work."

"Would you be willing to change places with him, be locked up all day, live on bread and water, and sleep on the hard floor?"

"Well, he's done it, and now you might let him out and set him to work."

"I have already said that I would let him out when he got down on his knees and begged my pardon."

"And have I got to do his work till he begs your pardon? I say, that ain't fair."

"I begin to think, Oscar, you are very lazy. I'll tell you what you may do. When you are dressed you may go to the door of the attic room and ask Philip if he is ready to apologize to me. If he says yes, I'll go up and receive his apology, and then he can come down and go to work."

"All right, pa, I'll do it. I guess he's got enough by this time."

Five minutes later Oscar was at Philip's door. He had forgotten to bring up the key which his father had taken down-stairs the evening previous.

He put his mouth to the keyhole, first rapping at the door to command attention.

"I say, you Phil!" he called out.

There was no answer.

Oscar rapped again.

"Philip Lillis!" he called.

For reasons which we understand, though Oscar didn't, there was no response.

Oscar became angry, and began to pound vigorously at the door.

"There, if he doesn't hear that he must be deaf!" he said to himself.

"I say, do you want to be let out?"

No answer.

"He hears me, and won't answer out of pure spite," reflected Oscar indignantly.

He continued to pound.

"Look here, you young beggar," he cried, "if you don't answer me I'll get pa to bring up the horsewhip and flog you within an inch of your life. There won't be any bar-room loafers to save you this time."

Even this threat seemed to produce no effect, and Oscar, quite out of temper, descended the stairs.

"Well," said Mr. Sprague, "what does he say?"

"What does he say? He won't say anything."

"Perhaps he didn't hear you," suggested Mr. Sprague.

"If he didn't he must be as deaf as a post."

"Slickening, is he?"

"That's about the size of it."

"Well, we can cure him of that."

"I'll tell you what to do, pa. I'll get the horsewhip and you can give him a good thrashing. I told him you would. There won't be any one to interfere up there."

"That's true. Go and get the whip, Oscar."

No employment was more congenial. Oscar went down-stairs with alacrity and soon reappeared with the whip. By this time his father was dressed and ready for action.

"Here's the whip, pa. May I go up with you?"

"Yes; come up."

Father and son ascended the stairs and stood before Philip's door.

"Speak to him first, pa, and see if he will answer you."

Nahum Sprague in a stern and authoritative tone called "Philip."

No answer.

"Didn't I tell you, pa."

"Philip Lillis!"

Again no reply.

"I didn't think the boy would be so owdacious. I'll soon learn him!"

Mr. Sprague turned the key and opened the door, entering the room with upraised whip. He gave a gasp of surprise.