and we were alone.

"I could like that man better than any one I know if he hadn't such a
beastly way of conferring favors. Once I get earning money I shall pay
him every cent that I have cost him," Hubert said vindictively.

"Including Faery and the choice cigars?" his mother asked, with a sad
little smile.

Hubert flushed. "What are they to one of his means?"

"But if you pay him some day it will take you so much longer to pay for
them," I said, surprised he had not remembered this.

"I can't part with Faery. Youth is such a beggarly short affair, if one
can't have pleasure then, when will they get it?"

"I should think it was high-priced pleasure if I had to take it on those
terms."

"You have no idea what prices men are willing to pay for what they
desire. Faery even with my means would seem a mere bagatelle to most
young fellows of my set."

"I would really like to know what your means are," his mother said,
playfully.

"Principally my profession, when I get it; capital health, and a world
full of work to be done by some one. I shall stand as good a chance as
any one to get my share of the world's rewards for good work
accomplished."

"Bravo, Mr. Hubert. I only wish I was a boy so I might go to work too,"
I cried.

"Hush, the master will hear you. I told you he was fastidious about
ladies' deportment. Even the housemaids and cook catch the infection.
I certainly pity his poor ward."

"Please do not waste pity on me; if Mr. Winthrop is not nice, I shall go
to Boston or New York and teach German in some boarding-school."

A low, long whistle was his only reply.

"Hubert, have you forgotten yourself? Mr. Winthrop will think we have got
demoralized."

"Forgive me, mother mine, but Miss Selwyn astounded me. Fancy her working
for her bread."

"And liberty," I said, merrily.

"You have got an instalment of that already, permission to dispense the
fruit and vegetables. The work has been given as a punishment for making
acquaintance with common people."

"That will be a pleasure; see what I am already doing for some of them."
I took my forgotten knitting work from my pocket.

"I deeply regret I must so soon leave Oaklands. I really think you will
make things livelier here than they have been since Mr. Winthrop was a
lad. Just for one moment, mother, try to imagine his disgust when he
finds his high-bred ward knitting socks for Dan Blake's little monkeys."

"Dan Blake has no children, Hubert," his