oh, how pleasant it was to lie in bed like this in the morning now that it was vacation! not to have lisa the nursemaid popping her head in at the door and saying, “john, it is time to get up. you must hurry, too.” that was what she always said.

just to lie here and think!

how people did pry and talk about all that kingthorpe heir business! they seemed to think it something remarkable. the minute he showed himself in the street, people called to him and asked him if he wasn’t awfully glad.

what a crazy idea! glad, when it had all come about only because uncle isaac was dead—dear, good, kind uncle isaac! every time johnny blossom thought of him a lump came in his throat. then he would whistle to try to get the lump away, but whistling did not help greatly, for he was very sorry and missed uncle isaac so much. no, glad about it he could never be, never in the world.

oh, pshaw! it was raining. johnny blossom turned a scowling face toward the window. just what one might expect—to have it rain the very first day of vacation! it always did, always. funny kind of rain, anyhow—coming down in a regular slant. perfectly horrid. he had planned to do so much today—be “boatman,” for instance.

if it would only rain enough so that the whole world would be covered with water, there might be some fun in it. if people had to go in boats, and nobody could walk anywhere, but every one had to swim, that would be jolly!

well, he would not get up yet anyway, since it was raining so hard. he would lie there and sing all the school songs. so he began singing at the top of his voice, “yes, we love our grand old norway.” that went splendidly. then he started another, but that tune ran up rather too high for his voice.

mother appeared in the doorway.

“come, john, don’t lie there and screech in that fashion.”

“don’t you like my singing, mother?”

“not that, it was horrible; and people can hear you away down the road.”

it seemed rather pleasant to john, that his singing should be heard so far.

“get up now,” said mother.

happening to see his new paint-box with its enticing cakes of paint of all colors, johnny blossom in his night gown and bare feet was soon wholly absorbed in mixing paint.

there was mother at the door again.

“why, john! are you standing there in your night gown painting?”

“just see this beautiful color i have made, mother,” exclaimed john, exhibiting a muddy yellow mixture as the result of his efforts. mother did not seem much impressed with the new yellow color.

“wash yourself thoroughly,” she said. oh, yes! that was what mother always said. john showed her two red ears he had scrubbed, but she wasn’t satisfied. oh, dear! how many bothersome crinkles and crannies there were in an ear, anyway!

after breakfast johnny blossom determined that he must walk twenty-four times back and forth on the veranda railing, the railing representing a rope stretched over niagara falls. johnny walked with greatest care, his arms outstretched and his tongue in his cheek, to help him keep his balance.

“oh, john! my boy!” called mother from the dining-room window.

“i’m—crossing—niagara falls—on—a—tight-rope,” said johnny.

he scarcely dared to speak, so very risky was the walking; but when he could take hold of one of the veranda posts, he called:

“now i have got across niagara falls, and all the people are shouting ‘hurrah!’”

“indeed,” said mother.

but my, oh, my! there was the sun. johnny blossom shouted “asta” everywhere through the house, for now there was a chance for them to realize a certain plan that he had made. since he could not carry it out alone, he would make use of asta, even if she were only a girl, poor thing!

at last he found her, in a big rocking chair, reading some stupid girls’ book. they rushed over to jensen’s wharf, for that was where jeremias the wood-cutter kept his boat, and they had a standing permission to use it whenever they wished.

the steamer would arrive very soon—the one that did not come in to the wharf and whose passengers, therefore, had to be rowed ashore if they wished to land here. johnny and asta thought it would be great fun to row out and call up to the ship that if any one wished to go ashore, here were the boatmen for them, boatmen who were good for something, too.

there lay the steamer already. they rowed their best, but saw that a big boat carrying passengers ashore had already started. pshaw! too bad they had come so late! however, johnny blossom rowed swiftly and carefully alongside the steamer.

“is there any one who wishes to land?” he shouted up toward the deck, in as manly a tone as he could assume.

yes, there was an elderly gentleman with glasses who had not gone with the other boat.

“can you row?” asked the gentleman with the glasses.

“you may be sure we can,” answered johnny blossom, with a very superior air.

so the gentleman got into jeremias’s boat and johnny and asta turned it toward the wharf. asta was always inclined to put her oars too deep in the water, and when she tried to take them out, she had to get up off her seat almost every time. johnny threw condemnatory glances at her. she was likely to ruin everything, doing no better than that, after he had assured the gentleman that they could row.

the boat scraped against the wharf.

“how much for my passage?” asked the gentleman.

“do you think five cents is too dear?” asked johnny in a businesslike manner.

no, the stranger thought not.

“i declare if there isn’t the kingthorpe heir himself, hiring out as boatman!” came a voice from the wharf.

pshaw! ola ramm was hanging over the railing watching them.

“kingthorpe heir?” asked the gentleman. “what does he mean by that?”

“it is what they call me,” replied johnny, rather soberly.

asta led the way at once to the candy shop.

“perhaps we ought not to have taken any money,” said johnny.

“i should like to know!” exclaimed asta. “as heavy as he was to row!”

the raspberry drops were very good. why not be boatmen all summer long?

a few moments later johnny remarked, “the goat ought really to go to grassy island today.”

“really, it ought,” agreed asta.

“we’ll bring it right down to the boat now,” said john. and the goat that had lived all summer in the yard back of the barn was forthwith untied and taken out the back way down to jensen’s wharf.

it was the cunningest goat you ever saw, lively but good, and so pretty—light gray, with a little beard. mother had bought it early in the spring. on sundays it had a blue ribbon around its neck, and other days a red worsted collar with a white button. it was a great pet.

john had lately decided that there was too little grass for it back of the barn and that the goat must go every day over to grassy island for a good meal.

there was no trouble in getting the goat down to the wharf, for it would follow john wherever he went. to get it into the boat was another matter, but that was accomplished at last, and they started out over the water. john rowed and asta was to hold the goat; but suddenly it got contrary. it kicked out in spiteful fashion, put its head right against asta’s stomach, and was altogether unruly.

“hold it still, why don’t you?” shouted john. asta struggled and strove, but without success.

“oh, how stupid you are!” exclaimed her brother.

evidently he would have to attend to the goat if it was to be made to behave. with this thought, johnny blossom laid his oars down and scrambled over the thwart. now indeed was there a great to-do! the goat kicked and the boat rocked and tipped in a frightful manner. johnny blossom strove his best to get control, but the goat’s legs went like drumsticks. the boat took in water at a great rate as it rocked violently from side to side.

“you’ll go into the water, youngsters!” shouted some one from the shore. it was pilot stiansen.

indeed, they wouldn’t go into the water! oh, the horrid little goat!

“you row,” shouted johnny to asta, “and i’ll hold it.”

while asta was changing her place in the boat, the goat kicked its liveliest, and the boat tipped so far over that it seemed as if it must capsize the next instant. before they knew it, pilot stiansen was right beside them in his big fishing boat.

“you wild youngsters! if ever i saw your equal!” he grumbled behind his red-brown beard. “sit still, i tell you!”

pilot stiansen produced a piece of rope and, reaching over, tied the goat’s legs together, then took the children’s boat in tow and towards shore they went. the idea of their being towed! what a way to be treated! they would have got along beautifully if that meddlesome old pilot hadn’t come and spoiled all their pleasure. perhaps he would tattle about it, too.

“go home now, like good children,” said pilot stiansen, as he untied the goat’s legs. “and don’t do anything like this again.”

“pooh! he thought we would drown,” said asta. “silly!”

johnny blossom also was indignant over the pilot’s interference with their fine plan for feeding the goat. but it wasn’t the stupidest thing in the world to tie the goat’s legs together. in the afternoon they would do that, and pilot stiansen needn’t trouble himself any more over their affairs.

johnny blossom hastened to get mother’s sharpest scissors—the big shiny ones—for he intended to cut some long strips of stout cloth to tie the goat’s legs with. johnny cut and cut. suddenly the big blades slipped, caught johnny’s little finger, and before he knew it, had cut the tip of it clean off! it hurt awfully—oh, well—not so terribly after all; but my, oh, my! how it bled! johnny blossom bound his not over-clean handkerchief around it, but still the blood came. now it was all over his trousers. perhaps he had better hide until it stopped.

“mother! mother!” shrieked asta. “here’s a piece of a finger, with your big shears, lying on the attic stairs!”

“it is john’s,” said mother instantly and with the utmost certainty.

the doctor was sent for, the finger-end sewed on, and the hand bandaged.

“there aren’t many persons with a sewed-on finger tip, are there, mother?” asked john, with some pride.

“no, fortunately not,” replied mother.

in the evening who should come to visit father but the elderly, spectacled gentleman they had rowed to shore in the morning!

“why, here are my small boatmen!” said the gentleman.

“boatmen?” repeated father, astonished.

“yes. they rowed me ashore from the steamer.”

“now, how pleasant that was, that they could be of service to you,” said father.

what would father think if he knew that they had taken money for rowing a person ashore? oh, dear! that had been wrong then. johnny blossom sat doubled together, scowling fiercely, as was his habit when he was worried about anything. that miserable five cents—why had they taken it?

at night johnny lay wide awake, waiting for his mother’s good-night visit.

“aren’t you sleepy, john?”

“no, i’ve got something i must tell you.”

“what is it, little john?”

“we took five cents from that gentleman for rowing him ashore.”

“why, john, my boy! did you?”

“yes, but i asked him if he thought that was dear.”

“but father would not like your doing this, john.”

“no, that’s why i told you,” said john.

“have you said your prayers?”

“no, i was just thinking about that,” replied john. “i was thinking that perhaps i had better say, ‘now i lay me’ and ‘our father’ both tonight, on account of the finger tip and the five cents and everything else today, mother.” and john looked inquiringly up at his mother to see whether she approved.

“yes,” said mother. so johnny blossom said his prayers with his eyes tightly squeezed together, and fell asleep immediately after.

“and there are several weeks more of vacation,” sighed mother.