Frank looked puzzled.  “I don’t see,” he said thoughtfully, “how anybody should think it worth while to pay two dollars for such a piece of mischief.”

“Perhaps he don’t like you, and wanted to plague you,” suggested Dick.

The thought at once flashed upon Frank that John Haynes must be implicated.  He was the only boy who was likely to have two dollars to invest in this way, and the suggestion offered by Dick of personal enmity was sufficient to supply a motive for his action.

“I believe I know who it is, now, Dick,” he said quietly.  “However, I won’t ask you to tell me.  There is one boy in the village who thinks he has cause of complaint against me, though I have never intentionally injured him.”

“What shall you do about it, Frank?” asked Dick, a little awkwardly, for he did not want his own agency made public.

“Nothing,” answered Frank.  “I would rather take no notice of it.”

“At any rate, I hope you won’t think hard of me,” said Dick.  “You have always treated me well, and I didn’t want to trouble you.  But the money tempted me.  I meant to buy cigars with it.”

“You don’t smoke, Dick?”

“Yes, when I get a chance.”

“I wouldn’t if I were you.  It isn’t good for boys like you and me.  It is an expensive habit, and injurious, too.”

“I don’t know but you are right, Frank,” said Dick candidly.

“I know I am.  You can leave off now, Dick, better than when you are older.”

At this moment a voice was heard from the house, calling “Frank!”

“I came out for some herbs,” said Frank hurriedly.  “Jacob isn’t very well, and mother is going to make him some herb tea.  I won’t mention that I have seen you.”

“All right.  Thank you, Frank.”

A minute later Frank went into the house, leaving Dick by himself.

“Now,” thought Dick, “I must try to remedy the mischief I have done.  I’m afraid I’ve got a job before me.”

He went round to the gap in the wall, and began to lay it again as well as he could.  In lifting the heavy stones he began to realize how much easier it is to make mischief than to repair damages afterward.  He pulled and tugged, but it took him a good half-hour, and by that time he felt very tired.

“My clothes must be precious dirty,” he said to himself.  “At any rate, my hands are.  I wonder where the pump is.  But then it won’t do to pump; it’ll make too much noise.  Oh, here’s some water in the trough.”

Dick succeeded in getting some of the dirt off his hands, which he dried on his handkerchief.  Then with a feeling of relief, he took the road toward home.

Although he may be said to have failed most signally in his design, he felt considerably better than if he had succeeded.

“Frank’s a good fellow,” he said to himself.  “Some boys would have been mad, and made a great fuss.  But he didn’t seem angry at all, not even with John Haynes, and did all he could to screen me.  Well I’m glad I didn’t succeed.”