“There, sis, you’re a little crying baby yourself, now.  Come, stop your noise; you ’ve blubbered enough about it.  It didn’t hurt you, did it?”

“Come here, dear, what is the matter?” said Mrs. Preston, who had left the room a moment before, and hurried back on hearing Mary scream.

“Jerry knocked me over,” said Mary, sobbing bitterly, as her mother lifted her up into her lap.

“Where did it hurt you, dear?—­there?  Well, let mother rub it, and it will feel better soon.  Jerry is a naughty boy to do so.  Why need you torment your little sister so?” Mrs. Preston added, turning to Jerry.

Mr. Preston, who had been sitting upon the door-step, smoking his pipe, as was his custom in the evening, came in, on hearing the uproar; and having ascertained what the trouble was, he boxed Jerry’s ears pretty severely, and sent him off to bed.  Oscar soon followed him; but Jerry was so mortified at the rough handling he had received, that he scarcely spoke again that night.

CHAPTER XVI.

IN THE WOODS.

It was soon evident that the air of Brookdale agreed with Oscar.  He was fast gaining his strength, and the increased fulness and color of his countenance betokened returning health.  No part of this improvement was to be attributed to the bottle of cough drops his mother packed away in the bottom of his valise, and charged him to take every morning and night; for the drops were not very palatable, and he had not opened the bottle since he left home.  In fact, he had by this time quite forgotten both the medicine and his mother’s injunction.

So rapid was the improvement in Oscar’s health, that two or three days after his trip to the Cross-Roads, Mr. Preston gave his consent to an excursion he and Jerry had planned, which was to occupy a whole day.  “Old Staple’s Hut,” as it was called, was the place they proposed to visit.  It was about four miles distant, beyond the hills in the north-east part of the town, represented in the upper corner of the map of Brookdale.  They were to carry their dinner, and Mrs. Preston accordingly filled a small basket with eatables.  While she was doing this, Jerry took Oscar aside and said: 

“There is one thing more we want, and that is father’s gun.  I know he won’t let me have it, but I guess he would lend it to you, if you should ask him.”

“Yes, we must have a gun,” replied Oscar; “and I should just as lief ask him for it as not.”

Oscar hunted up his uncle, and made known his request.  Mr. Preston hesitated a moment, and then inquired: 

“Does your father allow you to use a gun at home?”

“He never says anything about it, either way,” replied Oscar.

“Well, I guess you had better not take the gun,” said Mr. Preston.  “I ’m afraid you might get hurt,—­that’s all I care about.  I don’t allow Jerry to use firearms, and I should n’t like to put anything of the kind into your hands without your father’s consent.”