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There won't be anybody'll go further in this world than 'Laddin O'Brien, and you can say I said so " Here under oath of secrecy Mrs. Brackett lowered her voice and divulged a secret: "He got a letter this mornin' sayin' that the Portland'spy' is goin' to print three poems he sent 'em, and enclosin' three dollars to pay for 'em.
Great tears ran out of Aladdin's eyes. He went up-stairs, weeping and on tiptoe, and as he passed the door of his brother's room he heard a stir within. "Is that you, 'Laddin?" "Sssh, darlint," said Aladdin; "you'll wake Mother Brackett."
For the letter which Margaret had written to her lover was more cruel than the shell which had blinded his eyes and the bullet which was taking his life. "'Laddin " this in a fearful voice. "Yes." "Thank God. I thought you'd been hit. Why don't you read?"
And Margaret agreed in her mind, for it is the splash of deeds rather than the skill or power which impresses a lady. The little lady sat primly in the stern, her mitted paws folded; her eyes, innocent and immense, fastened admiringly upon the rowing boy. "Only 'bout's far's the cat-boat, 'Laddin, please," she said. "I oughtn't to of come 't all."
"Maybe we'll find 'Laddin on the way," said Margaret, cheerfully, and she looked up with great eyes at her godlike young friend. Meanwhile to Aladdin and his log divers things had occurred, but the wonderful lamp, burning low or high at the will of the river, had not gone out. Sliding through the smoking fog at three miles an hour, kicking and paddling, all had gone well for a while.
"That wouldn't be at all fair," said Peter. "Do you mind," said Aladdin after a pause, "telling me about what your chances are?" Peter reddened uncomfortably. "I'm afraid they're not very good, 'Laddin," he said. "She she said she wasn't sure. And that's a good deal more apt to mean nothing than everything, but I can't straighten my life out till I'm sure."
"Nothing," said Aladdin. "I think I'm going to be sick." Mrs. Brackett tossed her hands heavenward. "What is the matter?" she cried. "I don't know," said Aladdin. She followed him into the house and up the stairs, which he climbed heavily. "Where do you feel bad, 'Laddin O'Brien?" she said sharply. "It's my head, ma'am," said Aladdin.
"Why, Aladdin!" she said. And then: "Peter Peter 'Laddin wrote it, he did. Isn't it gr-reat!" And Peter, rising to the occasion, said, "Bully," and "I thought it was great," with such absolute frankness and sincerity that Aladdin's heart almost warmed toward him. It was presently known all over the house that Aladdin had written the song.
She put it like this to a friendly gossip: "I guess' Laddin O'Brien's 'bout smaht enough to go a long ways further than fine clothes and money and a genealogical past will carry a body. He writes sometimes six and eight big sides of paper up in a day, and if he ain't content with that he just tears it up and goes at it again.
"That's the way home," said Aladdin. Margaret looked wistfully down-stream, her eyes as misty as the fog. "If we had the boat we could go now," said Aladdin. Then he sat moody, evolving enterprise, and neither spoke for a long time. "Marg'ret," said Aladdin, at length, "help me find a big log near the water." "What you going to do, 'Laddin?" "You 'll see. Help look."
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