“Is he dead?” almost screamed Tom.

“No,” replied one, “we hope not.  How did he fall out?”

“He didn’t fall,” groaned Tom, who never could be so mean as to tell a lie, “I pushed him out.”

“You pushed him, you wicked boy,” cried a rough voice.  “Do you know you ought to be sent to jail, and if he dies, maybe you’ll be hung.”

Tom grew as white as Dick, whom he had followed into the store, and he heard all that passed as if in a dream.

“Is he badly hurt?” cried some one.

“Only his hands,” was the answer.  “The rope saved him, he caught hold of the rope and slipped down; but his hands are dreadfully torn—­he has fainted from pain.”

Just then Tom’s father came in, and soon understood the case.  The look he gave his unhappy son, so full of sorrow, not unmingled with pity, was too much for Tom, and he stole out followed by the faithful Tiger.

He wandered to the woods, and threw himself upon the ground.  One hour ago he was a happy boy, and now what a terrible change!  What had made the difference?—­Nothing but the indulgence of this wicked, violent temper.

His mother had often warned him of the fearful consequences.  She had told him that little boys who would not learn to govern themselves, grew up to be very wicked men, and often became murderers in some moment of passion.

And now, Tom shuddered to think he was almost a murderer!  Nothing but God’s great mercy in putting that rope in Dick’s way, had saved him from carrying that load of sorrow and guilt all the rest of his life.

But poor Dick might die yet—­how pale he looked—­how strange!  Tom fell upon his knees, and prayed God to spare Dick’s life, and from that time forth, with God’s help, he promised that he would strive to conquer his wicked temper.

Then, as he could no longer bear his terrible suspense, he started for Widow Casey’s cottage.  As he appeared at the humble door, Mrs. Casey angrily ordered him away, saying, “You have made a poor woman trouble enough for one day.”  But Dick’s feeble voice entreated, “O mother, let him come in; I was just as bad as he.”

Tom gave a cry of joy at hearing these welcome tones, and sprang hastily in.  There sat poor Dick, with his hands bound up, looking very pale, but Tom thanked God that he was alive.

“I should like to know how I am to live now,” sighed Mrs. Casey.  “Who will weed the garden, and carry my vegetables to market?  I am afraid we shall suffer for bread before the summer is over,” and she put her apron to her eyes.

“Mrs. Casey,” cried Tom, eagerly, “I will do everything that Dick did.  I will sell the cabbages, potatoes, and beans, and will drive Mr. Brown’s cows to pasture.”

Mrs. Casey shook her head incredulously; but Tom bravely kept his word.  For the next few weeks Tom was at his post bright and early, and the garden was never kept in better order.  Every morning Tiger and Tom stood faithfully in the market place with their baskets, and never gave up, no matter how warm the day, till the last vegetable was sold, and the money placed faithfully in Mrs. Casey’s hand.