ge Fairburn left St. Peter's School at
York.

January brought many new orders for the Fairburn pit, and the owner
had work for more men. So greatly was his business increasing, that
the proprietor of the little colliery came to a decision that seemed
likely to affect his son's whole future life.

"What would you like to be, my lad?" he one day inquired abruptly.

"A soldier, dad," was the prompt reply, the boy regarding his father
in some wonderment, nevertheless.

"A soldier, says the lad!" Fairburn exclaimed, no less surprised by
the answer than George had been by the question. "It is the most
detestable of all trades, that of soldiering, and about the most
empty-stomached. Don't talk of such a thing, my good lad."

In vain George entered into a defence of the military profession,
referring to the many great soldiers with whom his school readings in
the histories of Greece and Rome and England had made him more or less
acquainted. Fairburn was not to be charmed, and with a deep sigh the
boy gave up the contest. He was still more upset when his father
proceeded to tell him that he would not return to St. Peter's, but
would remain at home to assist in the business till a place could be
secured for him in some great London house.

It was not a task he cared about; anybody could have done it, he
thought, as he entered the weights on little tickets. But George had a
large fund of common sense and a deep respect for his father. He did
not grumble or sulk, but resolved that as he had to do the work he
would do it thoroughly.

Half an hour later he started and flushed to see Mr. Blackett and
Matthew, both well mounted, and followed by a groom in livery, come
riding by. He trusted they would not notice him at his dusty and
disagreeable task. Alas! the field path they were pursuing led close
past the spot, and George observed the look of surprise on their faces
when they saw him. The father gave no sign of recognition; Matthew
looked uncomfortable and nodded in a shamefaced kind of way. George
flushed, and for a moment felt a bitter anger surge within him; then
he called himself a dolt for caring a straw what they thought of him.
It was a little hard, however, to think that Matthew Blackett would be
going back to his beloved school and studies, while he, also a
Peterite, was engaged in such a humdrum task as weighing coal at the
pit mouth.

His father's energy at this time was prodigious. Fairburn was afoot
early and