to be obtained. The trouble was that Harry was always
in the right in all the difficulties they had had, and was likely to
have popular sympathy on his side.

As Philip walked home, fuming with anger, it occurred to him to make a
formal complaint against Harry before a justice of the peace. But the
examination which would ensue would disclose his unjustifiable conduct
in the berry field, and he reluctantly abandoned the idea.

While in this state of mind he met a recent acquaintance, some three
years older than himself, named James Congreve.

Congreve was boarding at the village hotel, with apparently no business
on hand more pressing than smoking, fishing and lounging about the
village.

He came from the city of Brooklyn, and had been sent to this quiet
village to remove him from the temptations of the city.

He had been in several business positions, but had given satisfaction in
none, and, so far as usefulness was concerned, was perhaps as well off
here as anywhere else.

As James Congreve wore good clothes, and had a showy gold watch and
chain, which indicated worldly prosperity, Philip was glad to make his
acquaintance, for Congreve taught him to smoke and play cards for
money.

So when the two met James Congreve asked, languidly:

"What are you up to, Philip?"

"Not much," answered Philip, suddenly.

"You look out of sorts."

"Oh, I've just had a fight with a boy in the berry pasture."

"I hope you didn't hurt him much," said Congreve, smiling.

"No; but I'd like to," replied Philip, spitefully.

"Who is the villain?"

"Harry Gilbert, a low, impudent upstart."

"Yes, I know; used to be in the grocery store, didn't he?"

"Yes."

"What's he done now?"

"Oh, it's too long a story to tell. He was impudent to me, that's all. I
would like to annoy him in some way."

"Get him into a scrape, eh?"

"Yes."

"Perhaps we can think of some way. If you haven't anything better to do,
come up to my room and play cards."

"I don't mind."

Soon afterward the two were sitting at a small table in Congreve's
bedroom at the hotel, playing poker.

This is essentially a gambling game, and for that reason it was a
special favorite with James Congreve. He was much more than a match for
Philip, whom he had initiated into the mysteries of the game.

"How much do I owe you, Congreve?" asked Philip, as they sat down to
their unprofitable employment.

"I don't know, exactly; I've got an account somewhere,"