“Well, I didn’t care much about it then, but Fred King says it is the best story that ever was, and he ought to know; he rides to school in an automobile.  Say, when’ll you read it to me?  Do it now, won’t you?”

“If what?” corrected Mrs. Ford.

“Oh, if you please.  You know I always mean it.”

“No, dear, I don’t think I will.  A boy nine years old ought to be able to read Robinson Crusoe for himself.”

Johnnie looked startled, and stood on one leg while he twisted the other around it.

“If you have a pleasant object to work for, it will make it so much the easier to study,” continued Mrs. Ford, as she handed Johnnie the blue book with a gold picture pressed into its side.

Johnnie pouted and looked very cross.  “It’s a regular old trap,” he said.

[Illustration:  TRUDGING ALONG BEFORE HIM]

“Yes, dear, a trap to catch a student;” and pretty Mrs. Ford’s low laugh was so contagious that Johnnie marched out of the room, fearing he might smile in sympathy; but he soon found that leaving the room was not escaping from the fascinating Crusoe.  Up to this time Johnnie had never taken much interest in school-books beyond scribbling on their blank margins.  Was it really worth while, he wondered, “to buckle down” and learn to read?  He knew just enough about the famous Crusoe to make him wish to learn more, so he finally decided that it was worth while, if only to impress Chips Wood, his next-door neighbor and playmate, a boy a year younger than himself, whom Johnnie patronized out of school hours.  So he worked away until at last there came a proud day when he carried the blue and gold wonder book into Chips’ yard, and, seated beside his friend on the piazza step, began to read aloud the story of Robinson Crusoe.  It would be hard to tell which pair of eyes grew widest and roundest as the tale unfolded, and when Johnnie, one day, laid the book down, finished, two sighs of admiration floated away over Mrs. Wood’s crocus bed.

“Chips, I’d rather be Robinson Crusoe than a king!” exclaimed Johnnie.

“So would I,” responded Chips.  “Let’s play it.”

“But we can’t both be Crusoes.  Wouldn’t you like to be Friday?” asked Johnnie insinuatingly, “he was so nice and black.”

“Ye-yes,” hesitated Chips, who had great confidence in Johnnie’s judgment, but whose fancy had been taken by the high cap and leggings in the golden picture.

“Then I’ve got a plan,” and Johnnie leaned toward his friend’s ear and whispered something under cover of his hand, that opened the younger boy’s eyes wider than ever.

“Now you mustn’t tell,” added Johnnie aloud, “’cause that wouldn’t he like men a hit.  Promise not to, deed and double!”

“Deed and double!” echoed Chips solemnly, for that was a very binding expression between him and Johnnie.

For several days following this, Mrs. Wood and Mrs. Ford were besieged by the boys to permit them to earn money; and Mrs. Ford, especially, was astonished at the way Johnnie worked at clearing up the yard, and such other jobs as were not beyond his strength; but, inquire as she might into the motive of all this labor, she could only discover that Chips and Johnnie wished to buy a hen.