ir lives. Really it did
not interest me a bit. Geography was the same, composition was worse,
mathematics was worst. I seemed always to be in hot water at school.
Then one day the old man (we always called Jackson Spencer that) said
after class was over--and of course I hadn't answered once--'Elliott, go
to my room and wait for me.' I tell you, Gladys, I shivered; I didn't
know what I was in for. Old man walked right in and shut the door, after
having left me alone about ten minutes, and just said, 'Come and sit
down, boy, I want to say something to you.' You could have knocked me
over I was so surprised. He then said: 'Look here, Elliott, you are not
a bad chap, but do you know that you are as blind as an owl?' I rubbed
my eyes and said, 'No, sir, I can see all right.'

"'You must be very short-sighted, then.'

"Of course I said nothing.

"'Did you ever think why your father sent you to school?'

"'No-o, sir.'

"'I thought so, but I'm going to tell you. He is not a rich man, Harry,
but he pays me to teach you all that will help you to rise above the
level of an ignorant labourer. Culture and education are as necessary to
a gentleman as bread is for food. I am doing my utmost, but I cannot
pour instruction down your throat any more than you can make a horse
drink by leading him to the trough. Now look here, boy, with all your
faults you are no coward; haven't you the pluck to get to know yourself
and stop being a shirker? Think what that means! A fellow never to be
trusted, a lazy, good-for-nothing, cowardly loafer. Remember, if you
don't work, you are taking your father's money under false pretences,
which is only another word for dishonesty. Think about what I've said;
turn over a page and start a new chapter. You can go, and mind--I trust
you.'"

"What a splendid old boy!" exclaimed Gladys. "What did you do?"

"Do! I worked like a beaver for the balance of school life, I'd so much
to make good. We shall touch the 'Stone' in a couple of----"

The sentence was never finished, for without warning, out of sight of a
helping hand, Gladys and Harry skated right through a large hole, left
by an ice-cutter without being marked by boughs, into ten feet of
freezing water.

The shock was tremendous, but being fine swimmers they naturally struck
out, trying to grasp the slippery ice.

To his horror Harry knew that his gloves were in his pocket, and now,
try as he would, his hands would not grip the ice. Gladys had be