Whilomville Stories

gh dim light which marked the little window of his shanty. It would be incorrect to say that Alek could think of nothing b

reflect upon his granite integrity. A weaker man might perhaps bow his moral head to the temptation, but for him such a fall was impossible. He was a prince of the church, and if he had been nine princes of the church he could not have been mor

ke a stroll down to Si Bryant's place and look at the melons from a pinnacle of spotless innocence. Reaching the road, he paused to listen. It would not do to let Peter hear him, because that graceless rapscallion would probably misunderstand him

h to have his ascetic contemplation disturbed by some chance wayfarer. He turned off along a short lane which led

n might come and scale the fence, reach a melon in a moment, sever the stem with his ready knife, and in a trice be back in the road with his prize. And this poor lost lamb of s

and arranged himself comfortably.