FARMER PRITCHARD took little Tommy, four years old, with no father or mother, from the poorhouse on trial. "He's bright," said the farmer, "but I don't know whether he's honest; that's the thing on my mind." Tommy had been there a week—one week of sunshine—when the black cloud came. Farmer Pritchard had a cough at night, and on the bureau near the head of the bed he kept a few gum drops, which he could reach out and get to soothe his throat. One forenoon, chancing to go into the bedroom, his eye fell on the little paper bag, and he saw there was not a gum drop left. "Tommy has been here," he said. "I know there were five or six there when I went to bed last night, and I did not take one. Tommy, look here. Have you been getting my gum drops?" Tommy, who was playing in the door, looked up brightly, and said:— "Did you take them, Lucy?" asked the farmer, turning to his wife. Mrs. Pritchard had not touched them, and her heart sank as she said so, for who was10left there to do it but little Tommy? Her husband's face grew grave. "Tommy," said he, "you need not be afraid of the truth. Did you take the gum drops?" "No, I didn't," replied Tommy. "Oh, yes, you did, Tommy! Now tell the truth." "This is bad, very bad indeed," said Mr. Pritchard sternly. "This is what I have been afraid of." "O Tommy," pleaded Mrs. Pritchard, "if you took them, do say so." "If he took them," repeated her husband. "Why, it's clear as daylight." Tommy had been running in and out all the morning. But Tommy denied, although the farmer commanded and his wife implored. Mr. Pritchard's face grew ominous. "I'll give you till noon to tell the truth," he said, "and then if you don't confess, why, I'll have nothing to do with a boy who lies. We'll ride back to the poor farm this afternoon." "O Joseph," said Mrs. Pritchard, following her husband into the entry, "he is little. Give him one more trial." "Lucy," he said firmly, "when a youngster tells a falsehood like that with so calm a face, he is ready to tell a dozen. I tell you it's in the blood. I'll have nothing to do with a boy that lies." He went out to his work, and Mrs. Pritchard returned to Tommy and talked with him a long while very kindly and persuasively, but all to no effect. He replied that he had not touched the gum drops. At noon Farmer Pritchard went into the house, and they had dinner. After dinner he called Tommy. "Tommy," he asked, "did you take the gum drops?" "No, I didn't," said Tommy. "Very well," said the farmer, "my horse is harnessed. Lucy, put the boy's cap on. I shall carry him back to the poorhouse, because he will not tell the truth." "I don't want to go back," said Tommy; but still he denied taking the gum drops. Mr. Pritchard told his wife to get the boy ready. She cried as she brought out his little coat and cap and put them on. But Tommy did not cry. He comprehended that an injustice was done, and he knit his baby brow, and held his little lips tight. He was lifted into the wagon. He thought of the cold house to which he was returning, the helpless old women, the jeering boys, the nights of terror,—all these he thought of, when, with pale face and blue lips, he was taken down from the wagon and went up to the poorhouse. Farmer Pritchard watched him as he went up the steps. He went in. The master came out for an explanation. It was given, and the farmer drove away. The farmer laid a fresh stock of gum drops on the bureau that night, and thought grimly that these were safe. He retired early, but his sleep was broken. Mrs. Pritchard could not sleep at all. The tears stole through her eyelids long after the candle was out. She was thinking of the little boy, perhaps cowering in his cold bed with terror. Suddenly a curious, small sound attracted her attention. It was repeated again and again, and now and then there was a tiny rustle of the paper. The sound came from the bureau. She listened, and her heart beat with excitement. She knew the sound. "Joseph!" she whispered, "Joseph!" "What, Lucy?" said her husband. He, too, had been lying awake. "Did you hear that noise, Joseph? It's mice." "It's mice, Joseph, and they're after your gum drops." "O Lucy!" groaned Farmer Pritchard upon his pillow. It flashed upon him instantly. He, and not Tommy, was the sinner. The noise stopped. The little depredators were frightened, but soon began again; and a rare feast they made. It seemed as if the night would never end. The farmer heard every hour the clock struck, and at five o'clock he got up and made a fire in the kitchen. His wife arose at the same time and began to get breakfast. "I won't wait for breakfast," he said. "You can have it ready when we get back. I'll harness and start now." In a few moments the wheels rolled over the frosty ground, and away drove Mr. Pritchard in the morning starlight. Mrs. Pritchard brought out the child's top and primer, and made the kitchen look its cheerfulest. Then she got breakfast. She baked potatoes, and fried chicken, and made fritters. She put the nicest syrup on the table, and a plate of jellies and tarts. She laid Tommy's knife and fork in their place, and set up his chair. The sun had risen, and the bright beams fell across the table. As they drove into the yard, they stopped at the door, and the wondering, smiling little Tommy was lifted down in Mrs. Pritchard's eager arms. She held him very tight. "Lucy, let's have breakfast now," said the farmer. "He's our boy now, Lucy. He's never going away again." Do not be too ready to trust or distrust children. Remember this story, and the little mice who took the gum drops.—Selected.