And if I
must stay in this kitchen among the pots the rest of my days, I mean to
do my share to make it the cheerfulest kitchen in all the country."
Here the voice of the tea-kettle died down to a plaintive simmer, simmer,
and I heard Sunbeam say, "He's asleep." She always thinks I'm asleep when
I rest my eyes.
"Tea is ready," said three of them, at once.
CROOKED JACK.
Jack Grip was a queer fellow. Queer because he never got enough money,
and yet never seemed to know the right use of money. His family had the
bare comforts of life, but his wife was a drudge, and his children had
neither books nor pictures, nor any of those other things so necessary to
the right education of children. Jack was yet young, but he was in great
danger of becoming a miser. The truth was, he had made up his mind to get
rich. It took him some time to make up his mind to be dishonest, but he
was in a hurry to be rich, and lately he had been what his neighbors
called "slippery" in his dealings. Poor Jack! he was selling his
conscience for gold, but gold could never buy it back.
On a certain night in November, the night that my story begins, Jack was
not at ease. His accounts showed that he had made money.
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