erwhelmed him.

"Don't cry, Bobby; I know all about it;" and the tender-hearted
bookseller wiped away his tears. "It was a stroke of misfortune; but
it is all right now."

But Bobby could not help crying, and the more Mr. Bayard attempted to
console him, the more he wept.

"I am innocent, Mr. Bayard," he sobbed.

"I know you are, Bobby; and all the world knows you are."

"I am ruined now; I shall never dare to hold my head up again."

"Nonsense, Bobby; you will hold your head the higher. You have behaved
like a hero."

"I ran away from the State Reform School, sir. I was innocent, and I
would rather have died than stayed there."

"I know all about it, my young friend. Now dry your tears, and we
will talk it all over."

Bobby blew and sputtered a little more; but finally he composed
himself, and took a chair by Mr. Bayard's side. The bookseller then
drew from his pocket a ponderous document, with a big official seal
upon it, and exhibited it to our hero.

"Do you see this, Bobby? It is your free and unconditional pardon."

"Sir! Why----"

"It will all end well, you may depend."

Bobby was amazed. His pardon? But it would not restore his former good
name. He felt that he was branded as a felon. It was not mercy, but
justice, that he wanted.

"Truth is mighty, and will prevail," continued Mr. Bayard; "and this
document restores your reputation."

"I can hardly believe that."

"Can't you? Hear my story then. When I read in one of the Maine papers
the account of your misfortune, I felt that you had been grossly
wronged. You were coupled with that Tom Spicer, who is the most
consummate little villain I ever saw, and I understood your
situation. Ah, Bobby, your only mistake was in having anything to do
with that fellow."

"I left him at Brunswick because he began to behave badly; but he
joined me again at Augusta. He had spent nearly all his money, and did
not know what to do. I pitied him, and meant to do something to help
him out of the scrape."

"Generous as ever! I have heard all about this before."

"Indeed; who told you?"

"Tom Spicer himself."

"Tom?" asked Bobby, completely mystified.

"Yes, Tom; you see, when I heard about your trouble, Squire Lee and
myself----"

"Squire Lee? Does he know about it?"

"He does; and you may depend upon it, he thinks more highly of you
than ever before. He and I immediately went down to Augusta to
inquire into the matter. We called upon the governor of