Not one rough word did Jonas utter that evening; indeed he was remarkably silent, for the simplest way of saying nothing evil, he thought, was to say nothing at all.  Jonas looked with much pleasure at his pipe when he put it on the mantle-piece for the night.  “You’ve weathered this day, old friend,” said he; “we’ll be on the look out against squalls to-morrow.”

The next morning Jonas occupied himself in his own room with his phials, and his nephew and niece were engaged in the kitchen in preparing for the Sunday school, which their mother made, them regularly attend.  The door was open between the two rooms and as the place was not large, Jonas heard every word that passed between Johnny and Alie almost as well as if he had been close beside them.

Johnny.  I say, Alie—­

Alie.  Please, Johnny, let me learn this quietly.  If I do not know it my teacher will be vexed.  My work being behind-hand yesterday has put me quite back with my tasks.  You know that I cannot learn so fast as you do.

Johnny.  Oh! you’ve plenty of time.  I want you to do something for me.  Do you know that I have lost my new ball?

Alie.  Why, I saw you take it out of your pocket yesterday, just after we crossed the stile on our way back from the farm.

Johnny.  That’s it!  I took it out of my pocket, and I never put it in again.  I want you to go directly and look for the ball.  That stile is only three fields off, you know.  You must look carefully along the path all the way; and lose no time, or some one else may pick it up.

Alie.  Pray, Johnny, don’t ask me to go into the fields.

Johnny.  I tell you, you have plenty of time for your lessons.

Alie.  It is not that, but—­

Johnny.  Speak out, will you?

Alie.  You know—­there are—­cows!

Johnny burst into a loud, coarse laugh of derision.  “You miserable little coward!” he cried; “I’d like to see one chasing you round the meadow!  How you’d scamper! how you’d scream! rare fun it would be,—­ha! ha! ha!”

“Rare fun would it be, sir!” exclaimed an indignant voice, as Jonas stumped from the next room, and, seizing his nephew by the collar of his jacket, gave him a hearty shake; “rare fun would it be,—­and what do you call this?  You dare twit your sister with cowardice!—­you who sneaked off yesterday like a fox because you had not the spirit to look an old man in the face!—­you who bully the weak and cringe to the strong!—­you who have the manners of a bear with the heart of a pigeon!” Every sentence was accompanied by a violent shake, which almost took the breath from the boy; and Jonas, red with passion, concluded his speech by flinging Johnny from him with such force that, but for the wall against which he staggered, he must have fallen to the ground.

The next minute Jonas walked up to the mantle-piece, and exclaiming, in a tone of vexation, “Run aground again!” took his pipe, snapped it in two, and flung the pieces into the fire!  He then stumped back to his room, slamming the door behind him.