Willy stopped whistling, and looked up to see where the voice came from. Gideon Noonin was sitting on the bough of a great maple tree, eating gingerbread. The sight of his face filled Willy with strange feelings. What a naughty, dreadful face it was, with the purple scar across the left cheek! Willy had never admired that scar, but now he thought it was horrible. His mother was right: Gid must be a very bad boy.

At the same time Gid's eyes danced in the most enticing manner, and laughing gleefully he threw down a great ragged piece of gingerbread, which Willy knew, from past experience, must be remarkably nice. It was glazed on the top as smooth as satin, and had caraway seeds in it, and another kind of spice of an unknown name. Willy intended to obey his mother, and beware of Gideon; but who had ever told him to beware of Gideon's gingerbread? Gid might be bad, but surely the gingerbread wasn't! Moreover, if nobody ate it, it would get stepped on in the road, and wasted. So to save it Willy opened his mouth and began to nibble. No harm in that—was there?

"Wan't to go swimming, Billy?"

Willy was walking along as fast as he could, but of course he must answer a civil question.

"No. Don't know how to swim."

"Who s'posed you did—a little fellow like you?" said Gid, in a warm-hearted tone, as he dropped nimbly down from the tree, and alighted on his head. "Come 'long o' me, and I'll show you how."

Willy's eyes sparkled,—he didn't know it, but they did,—and he drew in his breath with a "Whew!" Not that he had the least idea of going with Gid; but the very thought of it was perfectly bewitching. How often he had teased his two brothers to teach him to swim! and they wouldn't. He was always too young, and they never could stop. They thought he was a baby; but Gid didn't think so. Ah, Gid knew better than that.