ore going to bed he felt compelled to
break their compact of silence and exclaim:

"Father, it's splendid of you to keep the field for the men! I can't
thank you half enough, sir. But you ought not to name it after me."

"I'm not naming it after you," was his father's laconic reply. "I'm
naming it after Peter Strong."

[Illustration]

CHAPTER V

A CATASTROPHE

In an incredibly short space of time Strong Park began to be a reality.
Men commenced grading its uneven turf; laying out walks and flower-beds;
erecting benches and a band stand, and setting out trees and shrubs. An
ample area at one end of the grounds was reserved for a ball field; and
adjoining it parallel bars, traveling rings, and the apparatus necessary
to an out-of-door gymnasium was put in place.

All these arrangements Peter witnessed with delight. He longed to tell
his father so, but unfortunately was granted no opportunity. Once, and
once only, did Mr. Coddington refer to the project and that was to
inquire whimsically of Peter if his friend Strong was satisfied with the
preparations, and whether he had any suggestions to make. Young Strong
had no suggestions, Peter declared. He thought the park perfect. And
indeed it was! Neither thought nor money had been spared to make it so.

Peter was very proud of his father those days when, on every hand, he
heard the men extolling the president's generosity. More than once the
great secret of his relation to the Coddingtons trembled on his lips and
almost slipped from him, but he succeeded in holding it resolutely in
check. Despite his intimacy with Nat and his frequent visits to the
Jackson home not a hint of his real identity escaped him. His assumed
role was made easier, perhaps, by the fact that he had entered so
heartily into it. He was really living the career of Peter Strong, and
the Peter Coddington who had idled away so many months in purposeless,
irresponsible dallying was rapidly becoming but a hazy memory. There was
no denying that Peter Strong's life was the far more interesting
one--every day it became more absorbing.

"You see we're really doing something!" exclaimed Peter enthusiastically
to Nat Jackson one Saturday afternoon when they were taking one of their
long tramps together. "Washing and carting skins isn't much in itself,
and it would not be any fun at all if it wasn't part of the chain. But
when you think how necessary a step in the process it is, and consider
that the