There was an unpleasant scowl on Mr. Royden's face, as he got out of his wagon in the yard, and walked, with a quick pace, towards the rear entrance of his house. "Samuel!" said he, looking into the wood-shed, "what are you about?" The sharp tone of voice gave Samuel quite a start. He was filling a small flour-sack with walnuts from a bushel-basket placed upon the work-bench, his left hand holding the mouth of the bag, while his right made industrious use of a tin dipper. "O, nothing, -nothing much!" he stammered, losing ...
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There was an unpleasant scowl on Mr. Royden's face, as he got out of his wagon in the yard, and walked, with a quick pace, towards the rear entrance of his house. "Samuel!" said he, looking into the wood-shed, "what are you about?" The sharp tone of voice gave Samuel quite a start. He was filling a small flour-sack with walnuts from a bushel-basket placed upon the work-bench, his left hand holding the mouth of the bag, while his right made industrious use of a tin dipper. "O, nothing, -nothing much!" he stammered, losing his hold of the sack, and making a hasty attempt to recover it. "There! blast it all!" The sack had fallen down, and spilled its contents all over his feet. "What are you doing with those nuts?" demanded Mr. Royden, impatiently. "Why, you see," replied the lad, grinning sheepishly, as he began to gather up the spilled treasure, "I'm making-a piller." "A what?
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