, aunt, that while business continues dull I will
go to school. This money I will put in a savings-bank, and we shall
have it to fall back upon if we need it."

This plan met with Mrs. Bradford's approval, and was carried out
by Ben. When he returned from the savings-bank, with his book in
his hand, he felt like a capitalist. In fact, he was so cheerful that his
aunt caught the infection, and looked brighter than she had for years.

"It is pleasant to have money in the bank," she said to old Mrs. Perkins.

"Like as not the bank will break," said the old lady.

"I see an account last week of a savin's-bank that failed. I wouldn't
trust any of 'em."

"Mrs. Perkins," said Ben, with mock gravity, "I heard last week of
a man who died in his bed. I'd never go to bed if I were you."

"It aint' well to joke," said the old lady. "Always be prepared for the
worst."

"That isn't my motto," said Ben. "As long as I live I mean to 'Wait
and Hope'!"

Chapter XIX

The Prize for Scholarship

The annual examination of the grammar schools in Milltown came
about the middle of June, just before summer vacation. It the First
Ward School two prizes had been offered by the principal to the
scholars who stood highest on the rank-lists.

Speculation was rife as to the probable result; but the choice was
finally narrowed down to two boys.

One of these was Ben Bradford, now sixteen years of age. The other
was Samuel Archer, son of the superintendent of the Milton Mills.
There is an old saying, "Like father, like son." Mr. Archer was
purse-proud and consequential, and felt that he was entitled to
deference on the score of his wealth and prominence.

"Sam," said he, two days before the examination, "what are your
chances of obtaining the prize?"

"I think I ought to have it, father," answered Sam.

"That is, you think you will be entitled to it?"

"Yes sir."

"Then you will get it, as a matter of course."

"I don't know that."

"Don't you think the prize will be adjudged fairly?"

"The principal thinks a great deal of Ben Bradford."

"Is he your chief competitor?"

"He is the only boy I am afraid of."

"Who is he?"

"He is a poor boy--used to work in the mills."

"He is the nephew of the Widow Bradford?"

"Yes; he lives in a small house about the size of a bandbox. I expect
they are as poor as poverty. Ben wears coarse clothes. I don't
believe he has a new suit a year."

"And you have too man