very good school it was, of the old-fashioned sort. Six boys lived
in her house, and four or five more came in from the town. Among
those who lived with her was one named Lewis White. Lewis was
not a bad boy, but rather timid, and now and then he told a lie. One
day a neighbor sent Miss Crane a basket of gooseberries. There
were not enough to go round, so kind Miss Crane, who liked to
please her boys, went to work and made a dozen nice little
gooseberry tarts.”
“I’d like to try gooseberry tarts. I wonder if she made them as I do
my raspberry ones,” said Daisy, whose interest in cooking had
lately revived.
“Hush,” said Nat, tucking a plump pop-corn into her mouth to
silence her, for he felt a particular interest in this tale, and thought
it opened well.
“When the tarts were done, Miss Crane put them away in the best
parlor closet, and said not a word about them, for she wanted to
surprise the boys at tea-time. When the minute came and all were
seated at table, she went to get her tarts, but came back looking
much troubled, for what do you think had happened?”
“Somebody had hooked them!” cried Ned.
“No, there they were, but some one had stolen all the fruit out of
them by lifting up the upper crust and then putting it down after
the gooseberry had been scraped out.”
“What a mean trick!” and Nan looked at Tommy, as if to imply
that he would do the same.
“When she told the boys her plan and showed them the poor little
patties all robbed of their sweetness, the boys were much grieved
and disappointed, and all declared that they knew nothing about
the matter. ‘Perhaps the rats did it,’ said Lewis, who was among the
loudest to deny any knowledge of the tarts. ‘No, rats would have
nibbled crust and all, and never lifted it up and scooped out the
fruit. Hands did that,’ said Miss Crane, who was more troubled
about the lie that some one must have told than about her lost
patties. Well, they had supper and went to bed, but in the night
Miss Crane heard some one groaning, and going to see who it was
she found Lewis in great pain. He had evidently eaten something
that disagreed with him, and was so sick that Miss Crane was
alarmed, and was going to send for the doctor, when Lewis
moaned out, ‘It’s the gooseberries; I ate them, and I must tell before
I die,’ for the thought of a doctor frightened him. ‘If that is all, I’ll
give you an emetic and you will soon get over it,’ said Miss Crane.
So Lewis had a good dose, and by morning was quite comfortable.
‘Oh, don’t tell the boys; they will laugh at me so,’ begged the
invalid. Kind Miss Crane promised not to, but Sally, the girl, told
the story, and poor Lewis had no peace for a long time. His mates
called him Old Gooseberry, and were never tired of asking him the
price of tarts.”
“Served him right,” said Emil.
“Badness always gets found out,” added Demi, morally.
“No, it don’t,” muttered Jack, who was tending the apples with
great devotion, so that he might keep his back to the rest and
account for his red face.
“Is that all?” asked Dan.
“No, that is only the first part; the second part is more interesting.
Some time after this a peddler came by one day and stopped to
show his things to the boys, several of whom bought
pocket-combs, jew’s-harps, and various trifles of that sort. Among
the knives was a little white-handled penknife that Lewis wanted
very much, but he had spent all his pocket-money, and no one had
any to lend him. He held the knife in his hand, admiring and
longing for it, till the man packed up his goods to go, then he
reluctantly laid it down, and the man went on his way. The next
day, however, the peddler returned to say that he could not find
that very knife, and thought he must have left it at Miss Crane’s. It