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Grandfather Wellman was confined to his chair with rheumatism, but he arose. “Pushed Seventoes into the well,” he repeated, while Benjamin’s mother turned as pale as her son.

“I have–I have,” sobbed Benjamin. “I didn’t know I was going to, but I have. And he’s in the well, and he’s sitting on the shed roof too. Oh!”

“What do you mean?” his mother gasped. “Stop acting so, and tell me what you’ve done.”

“I pushed Seventoes into the old well. I didn’t know I was going to, but I did; and he’s dead in there, and he’s on the shed roof. Oh, mother!”

“You ‘ain’t pushed that cat into the well?” groaned Grandfather Wellman. “If you have–” He was trying to limp across the kitchen with his cane. He, too, was pale, and trembling from head to foot. “Hannah,” he said to Benjamin’s mother, “you come right along quick, and see if we can’t get him out. I wouldn’t take a hundred dollars for that cat.”

Benjamin’s mother started. Benjamin, sobbing and trembling, was clinging to her. Just then Seventoes walked in through the east door, his splendid ringed tail waving a little uneasily, but not a hair of him was hurt. A frightened cat can run faster than a guilty little boy, and Seventoes had found his unusual number of claws of good service in climbing a well and retarding his progress towards the bottom.

They all looked.

“Is it–Seventoes?” gasped Benjamin, with wild eyes.

“Of course it’s Seventoes,” growled his grandfather. “I’d like to know what you’ve been cutting up so for. Pussy, pussy, pussy.”

Benjamin’s mother took him over to the sink, and put some water on his head, and made him drink some. “There’s no such thing as a ghost, and you’re acting very silly,” said she; “but I don’t wonder you are scared, when you’ve done such a dreadful thing. It scares me to think of it. It was ‘most as bad as killing somebody. I never thought a boy of mine would do such a thing. Grandsir good as he is to you, too.”

“I–won’t ever do so–again,” sobbed Benjamin, all trembling. “I’m sorry; I am sorry.”

Benjamin was not whipped, the scourging of his own conscience had been severe enough, but he sat pale and sober in the kitchen, while grandsir, with Seventoes on his knees, and his mother talked to him.

“If you ever do anything like this again, Benjamin,” said his grandfather, “I shall be ha’sh with you, ha’sher than I’ve ever been, and you must remember it.”

“I guess he must,” said his mother. “It was a dreadful wicked thing, and he should be punished now if I didn’t think he’d suffered enough from his own guilty conscience for this time, and would never as long as he lived do such a terrible thing again.”

“I won’t–I–won’t!” choked Benjamin.

At supper-time, when the new milk was brought in from the barn, Benjamin filled a saucer with it and carried it to the door for Seventoes. He filled it so full that he spilled it all the way over the clean kitchen floor, but his mother said nothing. Seventoes lapped his milk happily; Benjamin, with his little contrite, tear-stained face, stood watching him, and grandsir sat in his arm-chair. Over in the fields the hay-makers were pitching the last loads into the carts; the east sky was red with the reflected color of the west. Everything was sweet and cool and peaceful, and the sun was not going down on Benjamin’s childish wrath. His grandfather put out his hand and patted his little red cropped head, “You’re always going to be a good boy after this, ain’t you, sonny?”

“Yes, sir,” said Benjamin, and he got down on his knees and hugged Seventoes.