ate library building in place of the poor
apology for one that had to serve.

These people, doubtless from worthy motives, though they were
short-sighted in their opposition, lost no opportunity for running
down the entire enterprise. The person who, perhaps, had more
influence than any of the others, and was more vehement in deriding
the "foolish expenditure of funds along such silly lines, instead of
trying to elevate the standard of reading among Scranton's young
people," was the rich widow, Mrs. Jardine.

She had a son named Claude, whose life was rendered miserable by the
lofty ambition of his mother to make him a genius. She never ceased
talking upon all sorts of elevating subjects; and where other boys
were allowed to lead normal lives, and have lots of innocent if
strenuous fun during vacations, and holidays, poor Claude led a life
of bondage.

He was rather an effeminate-looking boy, tall and slender, with a
face entirely destitute of color such as would indicate abounding
spirits and good health; but it was no wonder, everyone knew how he
was being made such a "sissy" of by his doting "mamma."

Despite all this there seemed to be a spark of ordinary boyish
spirits concealed under Claude's superior airs. He sometimes stood
and watched the other fellows engaged in playing prisoner's base, or
some such rough-and-tumble game, with envy. Once upon a time his
mother, chancing to pass along the street in her fine car, was
horrified to discover her darling Claude actually taking part in some
"rowdy game," in which he scrambled with the rest just as vehemently,
and was, moreover, even worse off than the other boys with regard to
soiled garments and disheveled hair. Evidently the long suppressed
spirit of the lad had broken bounds, and for once he allowed himself
to be natural.

The other fellows never tired of telling how she had called to him
almost frantically, as though she believed he had become inoculated
with some deadly germ, and must be contaminated, bundling the boy
into the car, and actually crying with dismay when she found that he
actually had a scratch upon his nose, which had been bleeding. But
it was also noticed that Claude grinned at his late fellow wrestlers
as he was borne triumphantly away, as though to emphasize the fact
that he had, at least, enjoyed one real period of excitement in his
life, to remain as a bright spot for many days.

Hugh had often wondered whether there might not b