“No I aint, either!” replied Jerry, in such a prompt and spiteful tone, and with such a scowl upon his face, that all the others, including even Oscar, joined in a hearty laugh.

“I hope you feel good-natured,” said his mother; “Oscar’s going off seems to have had a queer effect upon you.”

“I don’t care, you ’re all picking upon me—­it’s enough to make anybody cross,” said Jerry, in a surly tone.

“You’re mistaken—­nobody has picked upon you,” replied his mother.

“Yes, you have, too,” responded Jerry.

“Jerry! don’t let me hear any more of that—­not another word,” said Mr. Preston, sternly.

“Then you ’d better make Emily hold her tongue,” said Jerry.

“Hush! do you hear me?” said Mr. Preston, with considerable excitement.

Jerry undertook to mutter something more, when his father jumped up, and, taking him by the collar, led him to the cellar-door, and told him to go down and stay until he was sent for.  Then, shutting the door, and turning the button, he resumed his seat at the table, and the family finished their meal in silence.

Jerry was released from his confinement soon after breakfast; but the unfortunate affair at the table continued to weigh heavily upon his mind.  Throughout the rest of the day, he kept out of everybody’s way, and said nothing, but looked sour, cross, and wretched.  Oscar, too, felt very unpleasantly.  He found it hard work to amuse himself alone.  He was a boy of strong social feelings, and abhorred solitary rambles and sports.  It was a long and dull day, and when he retired to bed at night, he almost felt glad that it was his last day in Brookdale.

Soon after he had got into bed, Jerry, who had retired before him, called out: 

“Oscar!”

“What?” inquired the other.

There was a long pause, during which Jerry hitched and twisted about, as if hesitating how to proceed.  He at length inquired: 

“Are you mad with me?”

“No,” replied Oscar, somewhat reluctantly, and in a tone that was almost equivalent to “yes.”

“I don’t want you to go off without making up with me,” added Jerry; and as he spoke, his voice trembled, and had it been light enough, Oscar might have detected something like moisture in those very eyes that had flashed in anger at Emily in the morning, for reporting the same thing of them.

“I ’m ready to make up with you,” replied Oscar, turning over toward Jerry.

Having thus broken the ice, the constraint and reserve that had existed between them since the previous day, gradually melted away, and they were once more on sociable terms, although their intercourse was not quite so free and unembarrassed as it was before their quarrel.  In fact, they did not properly heal up the difficulty between them, inasmuch as neither made any confession or apology—­a duty that both should have performed, as they were about equally guilty.  Oscar’s first inquiries were concerning the gun.  Jerry told him that he carried it home, and that the owner was quite angry, when he saw the damage it had sustained, but said nothing about making the boys pay for it.