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Lazelle called him "a pretty little fellow," and thought it a fine joke. He laughed, too, when the young man told him to "come out," for there was something in the pettish tone of his voice which Horace considered very amusing. "I'll wait till he gets through scolding, and goes to coaxing," thought the boy: "he's a smart man! can't make such a little fellow mind!" Mr.
Why in the world don't she train him?" Mr. Lazelle did not know of the faithful talk Mrs. Clifford had with Horace that night, nor how the boy's heart swelled with grief, and love, and new resolutions. This adventure caused a day's delay, for it made the party too late for the boat.
"I was looking for Mr. Lazelle." "You're a naughty, mean little boy," cried Grace, when she had made sure he was not hurt anywhere. "It would have been good enough for you if you'd drowned in the lake, and the bears had ate you up!" Still she kissed her naughty brother, and it was to be noticed that her eyelids were very red from crying.
"Horace, you were telling me last night about Mr. Lazelle: what did you say was the color of his coat?" "I said it was blueberry color," replied Horace, who could see, almost without looking up, that aunt Louise was smiling at aunt Madge. "He is a musicianer too, I think you said, and his hair crimps. Dear me, what a funny man!"
Horace was very grateful to the officer for not handcuffing him on the spot; still he felt as if it was a great disgrace to be marched through the city by a policeman. Mrs. Clifford, Grace, and Mr. Lazelle met them on the way. "O, my dear, dear son," cried Mrs. Clifford, as soon as she could speak; "do you know how you've frightened us all?" "I followed the band," stammered Horace.
In this way they turned street after street, till, suddenly, the band and the crowd entered a large public building. Then the music died out, and with it the fire of eagerness in the little boy's soul. Where was Mr. Lazelle? If he could see him now, he would forgive the boxed ears. How could he ever find his way back to the hotel? It had not as yet entered his head to ask any one.
Help! help! help!" Mrs. Clifford heard, and knew, by instinct, that it was Horace. She had just sent Grace to call him, not feeling safe to trust him longer with Mr. Lazelle. She rushed through the door of the state-room, and followed the crowd to the other side of the boat, crying, "O, can't somebody save him!" There was no mistaking the mother's voice; the crowd made way for her.
"An Hurlburt, Pashants and Mary Lazelle, Younes Bingham, prudenc Hurlburt and Jerusha meachem" were empowered to build a pew "provided they build within a year and raise ye pue no higher than the seat is on the Mens side."
Lazelle, just for ten minutes; and there he became acquainted with the pilot, who was struck with his intelligence, and freely answered all the questions he asked about the engine, "the whistle," and the steering. "O, pshaw!" said Horace; "I'll make a steamboat myself, and give it to Grace for a present!"
Lazelle was very much vexed with Horace, and firmly resolved that he would never again take charge of a lady travelling with children. At one time he flew into a passion, and boxed the boy's ears. Horace felt very much like a wounded wasp. He knew Mr. Lazelle would not have dared strike him before his mother, and from that moment he despised him as a "sneak." Whenever Mr.
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