or me in a golden chariot."

"I hardly think that's likely to happen," was Champe's cheerful rejoinder.
"The old gentleman has had his temper touched, as, I dare say, you're
aware, and, as ill-luck would have it, he saw you on the stagecoach this
morning. My dear Beau, you ought to have crawled under the box."

"Nonsense!" protested Dan, "it's no concern of his." He turned his flushed
boyish face angrily away.

Champe looked at him steadily with a twinkle in his eyes. "Well, I hope
your independence will come buttered," he remarked. "I doubt if you will
find the taste of dry bread to your liking. By the way, do you intend to
enter Jack Hicks's household?"

"For a fortnight, perhaps. I've written to Judge Compton, and if he'll take
me into his office, I shall study law."

Champe gave a long whistle. "I should have supposed that your taste would
be for tailoring," he observed, "your genius for the fashions is immense."

"I hope to cultivate that also," said Dan, smiling, as he glanced at his
coat.

"What? on bread and cheese and Blackstone?"

"Oh, Blackstone! I never heard he wasn't a well-dressed old chap."

"At least you'll take half my allowance?"

Dan shook his head. "Not a cent--not a copper cent."

"But how will you live, man?"

"Oh, somehow," he laughed carelessly. "I'll live somehow."

"It's rather a shame, you know," responded Champe, "but there's one thing
of which I am very sure--the old gentleman will come round. We'll make him
do it, Aunt Molly and I--and Betty."

Dan started.

"Betty sent you a message, by the way," pursued Champe, looking through the
window. "It was something about coming home; she says you are to come home
now--or when you will." He rose and took up his hat and riding-whip.

"Or when I will," said Dan, rising also. "Tell her--no, don't tell her
anything--what's the use?"

"She doesn't need telling," responded Champe, going toward the door; and he
added as they went together down the stair, "She always understands without
words, somehow."

Dan followed him into the yard, and watched him, from under the oaks beside
the empty stagecoach, as he mounted and rode away.

"For heaven's sake, remember my warning," said Champe, turning in the
saddle, "and don't insist upon eating dry bread if you're offered butter."

"And you will look after Aunt Molly and Betty?" Dan rejoined.

"Oh, I'll look after them," replied the other lightly, and rode off at an
amble.

Dan looked af