"What's the matter, Randa? Won't it do?" he asked, as the stout maid
dropped her arms with a puff, after vainly trying to throw the hammock
rope over a branch.
"That end went up beautiful, but this one won't; the branches is so
high, I can't reach 'em; and I'm no hand at flinging ropes round."
"I'll fix it;" and Ben went up the pine like a squirrel, tied a stout
knot, and swung himself down again before Thorny could get out of the
chair.
"My patience, what a spry boy!" exclaimed Randa, admiringly.
"That 's nothing; you ought to see me shin up a smooth tent-pole," said
Ben, rubbing the pitch off his hands, with a boastful wag of the head.
"You can go, Randa. just hand me my cushion and books, Ben; then you can
sit in the chair while I talk to you," commanded Thorny, tumbling into
the hammock.
"What's he goin' to say to me?" wondered Ben to himself, as he sat down
with Sanch sprawling among the wheels.
"Now, Ben, I think you'd better learn a hymn; I always used to when I
was a little chap, and it is a good thing to do Sundays," began the new
teacher, with a patronizing air, which ruffled his pupil as much as the
opprobrious term "little chap."
"I'll be -- whew -- if I do! " whistled Ben, stopping an oath just in
time.
"It is not polite to whistle in company," said Thorny, with great
dignity.
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