anything of the kind--wayward was the word I wanted."

But Jolly Bill clapped his hands in cheerful applause.

"Good boy, Glen!" he exclaimed. "Pigheaded is the word. Bound to have
your own way. Bound to have what you want. No self restraint at all. If
you want it, nothing will do but you must have it, good or bad. Believe
me, boy, that's the very word."

"I wish you wouldn't interrupt me, Willie," objected Mrs. Spencer. "I
wasn't trying to preach a sermon to Glen and I don't know why you
should. What I want to tell him is that every little thing about a boy
matters to mother. It's always important to her what he does, and if he
does wrong to-day she is sure that he certainly will do better
to-morrow. Mother's going to be awfully glad when she hears about you,
Glen, and I want you to tell me where I can write to her this very day.
Now, go on and tell us about running away."

Glen was interrupted occasionally.

"Oh, did you say Gates?" cried Mrs. Spencer. "Was it Jonathan Gates?"

"I believe I did hear his wife call him Jonathan once or twice, though
mostly they all called him 'Father.'"

"It must be they," said Mrs. Spencer. "They're just the people to take
care of a boy that way. We know the Gateses very well and they're the
salt of the earth. I wonder you ever had the heart to leave them."

Glen told why he had left and then related his further adventures with
J. Jervice, his final escape, and his day of dread lest he should be
apprehended.

"I think I can tell you why Mr. J. Jervice didn't send after you," said
Will. "It's been his busy day. I just read about it in the evening
paper. Excepting that it was funny I wondered what excuse they had for
giving it so much space. But I now see why it is important. Look at
this!"

He handed Glen the paper folded back to a column headed: "Peddler in
Wrong Pew."

"Every good citizen knows of the new license ordinance but not every
peddler. One came briskly to the county clerk's office this morning. He
was not too rushed to stop and sell a patent tie clip to a man at the
door.

"'I'm a traveling merchant,' said he to our genial county clerk.

"'Very good,' said the clerk. 'I see you are doing a little business.'

"'Pretty fair,' agreed Mr. Peddler. 'But that ain't what--'

"'Hold on a bit,' interrupted the clerk. 'First thing is a license.'

"'I've got something more important, just now,' urged the peddler. 'I
want to tell you about--'

"'First things first,