in woodcraft.

Ree thought of all these things as he lay awake looking out through his
window at the stars in the western sky. And as his thoughts ran on, he
reflected on the death of Mr. Catesby a short eight months ago, and the
great change it had brought into his life. From the moment Mrs. Catesby
had called him to go for the doctor when her husband was taken ill, she
had depended on him in nearly everything. It was he who took charge of
all the farm work of the spring and summer, and the neighbors had said
the Catesby place never produced better crops. With scarcely a pause
except on Sundays, he had toiled early and late to accomplish this. Only
within the past few weeks when the rush of the harvest was over, had he
allowed himself any time for recreation. Yet it had been a happy summer,
he thought. Mrs. Catesby, appreciative of his splendid services, had been
all kindness; Mary Catesby had been agreeable as his own sister might
have been. Both had forgotten, or at least no longer observed, the bar of
social inequality which Mr. Catesby had set up against the "bound boy."

Then in August had come Mrs. Catesby's decision to remove to the city
that her daughter might have educational advantages. It was with genuine
regret that Ree had learned her plans. He would never have admitted even
to himself that he had, in a certain boyish, vague way, dreamed of a dim,
distant time when he and Mary might be more than friends; but maybe some
such thought had been in his mind at some time. Strange it would be had
nothing of the kind occurred to him.

Thus as he lay awake still pondering on the past, the present and the
future, in the depths of Ree's heart of hearts there may have been a wish
that he should become a successful man, wealthy perhaps, well-to-do
certainly; but in any event, looked up to and respected.

But, oh!--What obstacles confronted him! How could he ever be more than a
rough, uneducated "bound boy" that he was! The subject was not a pleasant
one, but he gave it most serious thought, and determined for the
hundredth time, that, come what might, he would make the most of his
opportunities and ever be able to hold up his head in any company.

So his reflections passed to the future. He was to receive $100 for his
summer's work. He also had some money which he had secured in odd sums
from time to time, safely put away in the chest beneath his bed.

John Jerome had a hoard of savings, too. How should they best i