A Sweet MemoryNow the lovely June days had come, everything began to lookreally summer-like; school would soon be over, and the youngpeople were joyfully preparing for the long vacation.

　　"We are all going up to Bethlehem. We take the seashore one yearand the mountains the next. Better come along," said Gus, as theboys lay on the grass after beating the Lincoins at one of the firstmatches of the season.

　　"Can't; we are off to Pebbly Beach the second week in July. Ourinvalids need sea air. That one looks delicate, doesn't he?" askedFrank, giving Jack a slight rap with his bat as that younggentleman lay in his usual attitude admiring the blue hose andrusset shoes which adorned his sturdy limbs.

　　"Stop that, Captain! You needn't talk about invalids, when youknow mother says you are not to look at a book for a monthbecause you have studied yourself thin and headachy. I'm allright"; and Jack gave himself a sounding slap on the chest, whereshone the white star of the H. B. B. C.

　　"Hear the little cockerel crow! you just wait till you get into thecollege class, and see if you don't have to study like fun," said Gus,with unruffled composure, for he was going to Harvard next year,and felt himself already a Senior.

　　"Never shall; I don't want any of your old colleges. I'm going intobusiness as soon as I can. Ed says I may be his book-keeper, if Iam ready when he starts for himself. That is much jollier thangrinding away for four years, and then having to grind ever somany more at a profession," said Jack, examining with interest thevarious knocks and bruises with which much ball-playing hadadorned his hands.

　　"Much you know about it. Just as well you don't mean to try, for itwould take a mighty long pull and strong pull to get you in.

　　Business would suit you better, and you and Ed would make acapital partnership. Devlin, Minot, & Co. sounds well, hey, Gus?""Very, but they are such good-natured chaps, they'd never get rich.

　　By the way, Ed came home at noon today sick. I met him, and helooked regularly knocked up," answered Gus, in a sober tone.

　　"I told him he'd better not go down Monday, for he wasn't wellSaturday, and couldn't come to sing Sunday evening, youremember. I must go right round and see what the matter is"; andJack jumped up, with an anxious face.

　　"Let him alone till to-morrow. He won't want anyone fussing overhim now. We are going for a pull; come along and steer," saidFrank, for the sunset promised to be fine, and the boys liked abrisk row in their newly painted boat, the "Rhodora.""Go ahead and get ready, I'll just cut round and ask at the door, Itwill seem kind, and I must know how Ed is. Won't be long"; andJack was off at his best pace.

　　The others were waiting impatiently when he came back withslower steps and a more anxious face.

　　"How is the old fellow?" called Frank from the boat, while Gusstood leaning on an oar in a nautical attitude.

　　"Pretty sick. Had the doctor. May have a fever. I didn't go in, butEd Sent his love, and wanted to know who beat," answered Jack,stepping to his place, glad to rest and coo1 himself.

　　"Guess he'll be all right in a day or two"; and Gus pushed off,leaving all care behind.

　　"Hope he won't have typhoid--that's no joke, I tell you," said Frank,who knew all about it, and did not care to repeat the experience.

　　"He's worked too hard. He's so faithful he does more than hisshare, and gets tired out. Mother asked him to come down and seeus when he has his vacation; we are going to have high old timesfishing and boating. Up or down?" asked Jack, as they glided outinto the river.

　　Gus looked both ways, and seeing another boat with a glimpse ofred in it just going round the bend, answered, with decision, "Up,of course. Don't we always pull to the bridge?""Not when the girls are going down," laughed Jack, who hadrecognized Juliet's scarlet boating-suit as he glanced over hisshoulder.

　　"Mind what you are about, and don't gabble," commanded CaptainFrank, as the crew bent to their oars and the slender boat cutthrough the water leaving a long furrow trembling behind.

　　"Oh, ah! I see! There is a blue jacket as well as a red one, so it's allright.

　　"Lady Queen Anne, she sits in the sun,As white as a lily, as brown as a bun,"sung Jack, recovering his spirits, and wishing Jill was there too.

　　"Do you want a ducking?" sternly demanded Gus, anxious topreserve discipline.

　　"Shouldn'tmind, its so warm."But Jack said no more, and soon the "Rhodora" was alongside the"Water Witch," exchanging greetings in the most amiable manner.

　　"Pity this boat won't hold four. We'd put Jack in yours, and takeyou girls a nice spin up to the Hemlocks," said Frank, whose ideaof bliss was floating down the river with Annette as coxswain.

　　"You'd better come in here, this will hold four, and we are tired ofrowing," returned the "Water Witch," so invitingly that Gus couldnot resist.

　　"I don't think it is safe to put four in there. You'd better changeplaces with Annette, Gus, and then we shall be ship-shape," saidFrank, answering a telegram from the eyes that matched the bluejacket.

　　"Wouldn't it be more ship-shape still if you put me ashore at Grif'slanding? I can take his boat, or wait till you come back. Don't carewhat I'd o," said Jack, feeling himself sadly in the way.

　　The good-natured offer being accepted with thanks, the changeswere made, and, leaving him behind, the two boats went gayly upthe river. He really did not care what he did, so sat in Grif's boatawhile watching the red sky, the shining stream, and the low greenmeadows, where the blackbirds were singing as if they too had mettheir little sweethearts and were happy.

　　Jack remembered that quiet half-hour long afterward, becausewhat followed seemed to impress it on his memory. As he satenjoying the scene, he very naturally thought about Ed; for the faceof the sister whom he saw was very anxious, and the word "fever"recalled the hard times when Frank was ill, particularly the night itwas thought the boy would not live till dawn, and Jack criedhimself to sleep, wondering how he ever could get on without hisbrother. Ed was almost as dear to him, and the thought that he wassuffering destroyed Jack's pleasure for a little while. But,fortunately, young people do not know how to be anxious verylong, so our boy soon cheered up, thinking about the late matchbetween the Stars and the Lincoins, and after a good rest wentwhistling home, with a handful of mint for Mrs. Pecq, and playedgames with Jill as merrily as if there was no such thing as care inthe world.

　　Next day Ed was worse, and for a week the answer was the same,when Jack crept to the back door with his eager question.

　　Others came also, for the dear boy lying upstairs had friendseverywhere, and older neighbors thought of him even moreanxiously and tenderly than his mates. It was not fever, but someswifter trouble, for when Saturday night came, Ed had gone hometo a longer and more peaceful Sabbath than any he had ever knownin this world.

　　Jack had been there in the afternoon, and a kind message hadcome down to him that his friend was not suffering so much, andhe had gone away, hoping, in his boyish ignorance, that all dangerwas over. An hour later he was reading in the parlor, having noheart for play, when Frank came in with a look upon his facewhich would have prepared Jack for the news if he had seen it. Buthe did not look up, and Frank found it so hard to speak, that helingered a moment at the piano, as he often did when he camehome. It stood open, and on the rack was the "Jolly Brothers'

　　Galop," which he had been learning to play with Ed. Big boy as hewas, the sudden thought that never again would they sit shoulder toshoulder, thundering the marches or singing the songs both likedso well, made his eyes fill as he laid away the music, and shut theinstrument, feeling as if he never wanted to touch it again. Then hewent and sat down beside Jack with an arm round his neck, tryingto steady his voice by a natural question before he told the heavynews.

　　"What are you reading, Jacky?"The unusual caress, the very gentle tone, made Jack look up, andthe minute he saw Frank's face he knew the truth.

　　"Is Ed----?" he could not say the hard word, and Frank could onlyanswer by a nod as he winked fast, for the tears would come. Jacksaid no more, but as the book dropped from his knee he hid hisface in the sofa-pillow and lay quite still, not crying, but trying tomake it seem true that his dear Ed had gone away for ever. Hecould not do it, and presently turned his head a little to say, in adespairing tone,"I don't see what I shall do without him!""I know it's hard for you. It is for all of us.""You've got Gus, but now I haven't anybody. Ed was always sogood to me!" and with the name so many tender recollectionscame, that poor Jack broke down in spite of his manful attempts tosmother the sobs in the red pillow.

　　There was an unconscious reproach in the words, Frank thought;for he was not as gentle as Ed, and he did not wonder that Jackloved and mourned for the lost friend like a brother.

　　"You've got me. I'll be good to you; cry if you want to, I don'tmind.

　　There was such a sympathetic choke in Frank's voice that Jack feltcomforted at once, and when he had had his cry out, which wasvery soon, he let Frank pull him up with a bear-like butaffectionate hug, and sat leaning on him as they talked about theirloss, both feeling that there might have been a greater one, andresolving to love one another very much hereafter.

　　Mrs. Minot ............