"Vacation's here! Vacation's here!" shouted George Byron, bursting into the room and throwing his books upon the table.

"And a pity it is," returned his mother coldly; "you are so bad at numbers that you ought to be at school every day in the year."

George flushed deeply, but did not reply. He had learned that when Mrs. Byron wore this worried expression it was wiser of him to keep silence. Doubtless she had received one of those troublesome business letters again. Such missives always did disturb matters in the Aberdeen apartment, often causing Mrs. Byron to speak sharply to those about her.

This lady had belonged to the Gordons, one of the proudest families in[Pg 45] Scotland; and upon her marriage with handsome Jack Byron, her fortune was seized to pay his numerous debts. Consequently, at her husband's death a few years later, Mrs. Byron was left in the city of Aberdeen with scarcely enough to keep herself and her child from want. The tiny rooms in Broad Street were filled with the massive furniture and costly vases, mirrors, and china that Mrs. Byron had brought from her father's house at her bridal; but the cupboard was scantily provisioned, and much thought and labor were required to keep George's apparel in trim for school. While, however, Mrs. Byron spent only pennies where her neighbors lavished pounds, her brain and fingers contrived so successfully that neither she nor the lad ever presented a shabby appearance.

"Come, George," said the lady more gently, repenting her impatience, "put your books away, and May will serve tea at once."

The boy's face brightened, and [Pg 46]whistling softly, he crossed the room to the bookshelves. The odd slide and sudden halt with which he moved, together with the stout cane upon which he leaned, betokened that "the little boy at Aberdeen" was not quite like other boys.

Sadly enough, George Byron was lame, a burden very hard for an impetuous lad to bear. He was, however, too plucky ever to allude to his affliction in the presence of his playmates, but carried his misfortune bravely and independently as long as his companions seemed to forget it, and seldom was any of them so unkind as to mention his crooked feet. Athletic sports were his chief delight, although there were few that he could enter. At running, leaping, and dancing he was helpless, always forced to stand aside and watch when these were in progress; but he was an expert archer, could throw farther than any boy at the grammar school, and with the sling his marksmanship was astonishing. He was a prime favorite[Pg 47] with all the boys at school and in the neighborhood of Broad Street, and he was thoroughly accustomed to the r?le, for his handsome face and fun-loving disposition speedily won admiration wherever he went.

He gayly joined the boys in their pranks and adventures, often with his ringing voice and daring spirit commanding the expeditions, but, to the lads' amazement, he found his best enjoyment in the company of a little girl named Mary Duff. She was such a pretty child that passers-by often turned to look after her, and her soft voice and sweet manner showed her to be a real little gentlewoman. The mothers approved of this friendship, for they said that Mary improved George's manners, and that George helped Mary with her reading. The children loved each other dearly, and seldom did there pass a day when they two were not seen together.

To-night, at bedtime, George said:

"Wake me early, please, mother, for[Pg 48] Mary, Aladdin, and I are going to spend the day by the river."

Mrs. Byron promised, and accordingly the next morning George felt himself being shaken by the shoulder, while from the midst of a dream he heard his mother say,—

"Wake up, wake up! This is the third time that I have called you, and Mary is already here."

Up sprang George, all drowsiness put to flight. When he had dressed himself and finished his bowl of oatmeal, he joined Mary in the drawing-room with a tin box of sandwiches, and an apple in each pocket.

The visitor bore a small basket containing her contributions to the luncheon; and as she slipped off the sofa at George's entrance her pinafore and little sunbonnet rustled loudly in their starchy crispness.

Down the stairs hurried the pair, bent upon calling for Aladdin, the third member of their company.

[Pg 49]

As they reached the street, George was accosted by Bobby Black, who, with a group of neighboring boys, was emerging from his gate opposite.

"Come on, Byron, we're going to watch the cricket game in Murdoch's field!"

George shook his head decisively.

"I'm going somewhere else."

"Ha, ha! Ho, ho!" jeered the boys in chorus, and Bobby called out in a teasing tone,—

"Oh, you'd rather go with Mary Duff than with us. You're Mary Duff's beau! Ha, ha! You're Mary Duff's beau!"

The little girl crimsoned with annoyance at Bobby's silly taunt, but George retorted quickly,—

"Well, you can't be Mary Duff's beau until you learn to wash your hands."

The laugh turned on Bobby, and George and Mary set off in quest of comrade number three.

As they approached a square stone building, a man standing before its open[Pg 50] door disappeared within, only to return immediately, leading Aladdin, the most captivating of Shetland ponies.

This animal was George's one important possession, but instead of a plaything, it had been purchased for the boy's convenience in getting about. George's poor feet made walks of any great length painful undertakings, but sitting on Aladdin's back, he could go as far and as swiftly as he desired.

The pony was black and satiny for the most part, but upon his forehead a small white patch was to be seen, and his mane and tail were snowy. He was so fond of his master that he would follow him about like a kitten; and he always whinnied joyfully whenever the boy appeared at the stable door.

George tied his box and Mary's basket to the small red saddle, and turned to his companion.

"We'll ride and tie, of course. You mount first, and leave him at Baillie's stile."

[Pg 51]

Stooping, as he had read that the great lairds did, he allowed Mary to place her chubby foot in his clasped hands. Then, with her agile spring, he landed her securely on Aladdin's back. She gathered up the reins and trotted away, while George took up his walking stick and limped slowly after her.

Their plan was the old one, followed often by farmers and mountaineers, when two persons travel with one horse. One rides to a certain point, dismounts, ties the horse and walks on, while the other trudges along on foot until he comes to the place where the horse is waiting, when he mounts and rides to a second stopping-place, secures the animal for his friend, and once more tramps on his way. Thus, by changes of walking and riding, a goodly journey can be accomplished with less fatigue than might be supposed.

To-day the playmates proceeded along the wooded shore of the river Dee, at no great distance from home, but far enough that they were able to walk on the soft[Pg 52] earth, to stand in a forest of mighty trees, and to bask in sunshine undimmed by the city's smoke and grime.

The journey was a difficult one for George, for he insisted upon walking his full share of the way, and, hopping along with his stout cane, he would sometimes be obliged to lean heavily against a tree or rock, panting violently and clutching at his support with both hands. He dared not drop down on the mossy bank, lest with no one near to lend him a hand he might not manage to get up again. So, after but two or three turns of marching, George sat down upon a stump and waited for Mary and Aladdin to come up with him.

The pony, with his dainty sunbonneted rider, soon came into view, and George hailed them from the roadside.

"Hi! Let's stay here. Don't you think we have gone far enough?"

"Yes," said Mary, pushing back her bonnet and glancing about the quiet place, where dazzling sunbeams pierced[Pg 53] through the leafy ceiling and lightened the carpet of gay green moss; "do let's stay here; it seems nice and far."

Whereupon the lady slipped from her saddle, and leaving Aladdin to his own devices, after prudently freeing him of box and basket, joined George on the stump.

"What shall we do first?" she queried.

"Let's throw clay balls," suggested George, rising quickly.

"Let's!" agreed Mary. So together they scrambled down the river bank, and heaped a piece of driftwood with stiff clay. Returning, George cut two slender switches from a willow-tree and presented one to his partner. Then he rolled a bit of clay into a marble-sized ball, pressed it firmly on the tip of the rod, and, with a quick fling, sent the ball far out into the river.

George wielded his twig so dexterously that he could tap a mast in a passing boat, and selecting almost any tree, stone, or sail within a range of two hundred yards, could send his pudgy bullet home.

[Pg 54]

His cheeks soon glowed with the fun and exercise, and at every swish of the withe he called his comrade to bear witness to his unerring aim.

Mary, following his example, faithfully loaded her switch and let fly at every target that her fancy chose. Her success, however, was not brilliant, for her ball seldom soared beyond the shadows of the trees under which they sat, and never by any chance approached the object she had intended to hit. After numerous fruitless efforts, she laid aside her wand and brought from her basket a rag-doll which George had christened "Heatheress."

Luncheon followed, and when Mary had spread the repast on a napkin, she said,—

"Let's play house while we eat, and I'll be the mother, and you be the father, and Heatheress will be the baby, and Aladdin—oh, yes, Aladdin will be the visitor."

Now George would have writhed with[Pg 55] shame had the boys at school heard of his entering into such girlish pastimes as this, but Mary was always so ready to join any game that he suggested, no matter how much she might dislike it, that he felt in duty bound to play her plays a part of the time. Besides, Mary Duff was so sweet, so winsome, that George found it hard to refuse anything that she asked; so he played "house" with a will, and enjoyed it nearly as much as she.

"Mr. Aladdin," called Mistress Mary, as she gathered her family about the board, "please don't take the trouble to come downstairs; I have just sent your luncheon up to your room."

The guest was evidently pleased with the arrangement, for he ate heartily of the delicious green things that he found in his apartment.

When the children had finished, they withdrew to the screen of a blasted oak and sat rigidly still, watching the birds fly down and carry away the crumbs of the feast.

[Pg 56]

Later, they made little rafts of chips gathered from the river, furnished them with paper sails and pebbly cargoes, and set them afloat for Spain, Africa, and Jamaica.

Finally, George drew from the breast of his jacket a faded, ragged book, and lay in the grass reading aloud from his favorite story of Robert Bruce, while Mary leaned against a tree near by and listened. Before the reader had reached the climax of the tale, he glanced over his book, only to discover the little girl fast asleep against her tree, with her lap full of wild flowers. Forbearing to disturb her, George finished the story in silence. Then the book slipped from his hands and he, too, stretched on the cool grass, with a few stray sunbeams flickering across him, sank down, down, to the land of dreams.
Lay in the grass reading aloud from his favorite story

"Lay in the grass reading aloud from his favorite story."

A sociable whinny roused the boy at length, and scrambling up by aid of a slender sapling, he noticed that the shadows had greatly lengthened during his nap.

[Pg 57]

"Wake up, Mary," he called, tweaking one of her brown curls; "I promised your mother that I would bring you back by five o'clock, and we must go now."

Mary assented, as she usually did to whatever George proposed, and in five minutes she had sprung into the red saddle and cantered off to the first tying-place.
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