He
had vowed then to have revenge some day and he kept the letter to remind
him of the vow should he ever be in danger of forgetting it.
Patsy knew now why his brother so hated the house on the hill, and why
David had been so cross on that day last summer when he, Patsy, had come
home and told of the young lady who had been so kind to him, the lady
who lived in the house on the hill. As a rule, every one was good to
Patsy. Even the children on the street, who quarrelled among themselves,
striking, reviling, pelting one another with stones, had, nothing but
kind words and smiles for Patsy. But that day last summer he had
wandered farther from home than usual and a crowd of rough boys had
stopped and commenced tormenting him, laughing at him, calling him
names, jeering at his deformity, and even pulling his hair and pinching
his ears. The child had tried to push past them, but they closed in on
him and it might have fared ill with Patsy but for the timely arrival on
the scene of the young lady from the house on the hill.
She quickly scattered the band of hoodlums and then walked with Patsy
until he was well on his way home and safe from further attack. She had
been kind to him, and made him promise to come and see her. That was how
he knew her name and where she lived. He had wanted to see her again and
had thought of her so often but David would not let him go.
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