Ned.
A
Little Colored Boy
A LITTLE COLORED BOY.
“YOU can’t helpthinking when youlisten to that boy,”said Mrs. Warner,“that the Lordmust want him inheaven. He hassuch a heavenlyvoice.”
“I think it morelikely that Godput an angel’svoice in Neddy’s throat to give us a tasteof heavenly music,” said grandma, lookingup from the apples she was paring.
“Bosh! you women folks are so everlastinglysimple and silly that you encouragethe boy in his mischief;” and FarmerWarner set down the milk pail with sucha thud that the milk slopped over intothe sauce his wife was dishing for supper.
“Now, Henry, you have ruined that dishof apple sauce,” expostulated Mrs. Warner;“and they’re the first apples of theseason, too.”
“Never mind,” said grandma, “we’ll findsomething else. Just call the boy to supper,Henry.”
“Indeed I won’t call him,” he sputtered.“For the past hour I’ve been calling himto help with the chores, and I’ll call nomore.”
Just then, in sweet, rich tones, came inthe melody—
“And your body, too,” growled Mr. Warner.“If you women had the trials I havewith Ned, you would not set so much storeby him.”
“I won’t deny that he’s trying, Henry;but when one is weary and fretted with along, hot day’s work, it is the most soothingthing in the world to hear the childsinging in the twilight about rest for hissoul. It rests me way tomy toes.”
“It would rest me a heapmore if he did his work.Now, you see when I calledhim to help he was singingabout rest, but supper beingready, he comes alongwithout being called even.”
Bare feet came patteringalong the porchand a little black facepeeped in the window.
“Did you call me, Mis’serWarner?” The farmergrunted and drew up tothe table.
“Henry called you a long time ago,Neddy; why did you not come?”
“I camed jes’ as soon as I heer