les under a hot sun, with
a heavy gripsack in your hand. It's a good introduction to a life of
labor, which I have reason to believe is before me. I wonder how I am
coming out--at the big or the little end of the horn?"

He paused, and his face grew grave, for he understood well that for him
life had become a serious matter. In his absorption he did not observe
the rapid approach of a boy somewhat younger than himself, mounted on a
bicycle.

The boy stopped short in surprise, and leaped from his iron steed.

"Why, Carl Crawford, is this you? Where in the world are you going with
that gripsack?"

Carl looked up quickly.

"Going to seek my fortune," he answered, soberly.

"Well, I hope you'll find it. Don't chaff, though, but tell the honest
truth."

"I have told you the truth, Gilbert."

With a puzzled look, Gilbert, first leaning his bicycle against the
tree, seated himself on the ground by Carl's side.

"Has your father lost his property?" he asked, abruptly.

"No."

"Has he disinherited you?"

"Not exactly."

"Have you left home for good?"

"I have left home--I hope for good."

"Have you quarreled with the governor?"

"I hardly know what to say to that. There is a difference between us."

"He doesn't seem like a Roman father--one who rules his family with a
rod of iron."

"No; he is quite the reverse. He hasn't backbone enough."

"So it seemed to me when I saw him at the exhibition of the academy. You
ought to be able to get along with a father like that, Carl."

"So I could but for one thing."

"What is that?"

"I have a stepmother!" said Carl, with a significant glance at his
companion.

"So have I, but she is the soul of kindness, and makes our home the
dearest place in the world."

"Are there such stepmothers? I shouldn't have judged so from my own
experience."

"I think I love her as much as if she were my own mother."

"You are lucky," said Carl, sighing.

"Tell me about yours."

"She was married to my father five years ago. Up to the time of her
marriage I thought her amiable and sweet-tempered. But soon after the
wedding she threw off the mask, and made it clear that she disliked
me. One reason is that she has a son of her own about my age, a mean,
sneaking fellow, who is the apple of her eye. She has been jealous of
me, and tried to supplant me in the affection of my father, wishing
Peter to be the favored son."

"How has she succeeded?"

"I don't think my father fee