which he and his companions had had such a glorious time on the
preceding afternoon. He envied them the possession of the Zephyr, and
he would have given anything to be permitted to join the club. Perhaps
he would even have promised to become a better boy, for he keenly felt
the weight of those moral obliquities which excluded him from the
society of Frank and his friends.

But more especially did he envy Tony Weston his good luck in getting
into the club; for Tony's admission was abundant evidence that the
social standing of the boys had not been taken into consideration.
There was no rich and poor about it; it was good and evil entirely. And
Tim had always cherished a strong feeling of dislike, and even hatred,
towards the poor widow's son, undoubtedly because he was a good boy,
and everybody liked him. He had not forgotten Tony's interference on
the island, when he was about to thrash Frank Sedley; and among the
Bunkers he expressed his intention to be fully revenged.

At recess Frank, Charles, and Tony went up to a neighbor's house close
by to get some water. When they had drunk, and were passing through the
wood-house to return, Charles observed an old wallet lying on a bench.

"Twig!" said he in his peculiar style.

"That must be Farmer Whipple's," replied Tony.

"Probably the farmer laid it down when he was paying somebody some
money," added Frank.

"I will carry it to him," said Charles. "He is out in the garden."

"Don't meddle with it," answered Tony. "We will see him, and tell him
it is here."

"But somebody might steal it in the meantime."

"Nobody will; I wouldn't meddle with it."

The boys walked off towards the schoolhouse, but they did not find the
farmer in the garden.

"He was here when we came up," said Tony. "I will find him;" and he
walked towards the barn, while Charles and Frank continued on their
way.

Tony looked all about the premises, but he did not find the farmer.
Returning to the wood-house, he found that the wallet was gone.

"Hello, Tony," said Tim Bunker, at this moment entering the wood-house,
and going to the well for a drink.

"Have you seen Farmer Whipple, Tim?"

"Yes; he just went into the house," replied the chief of the Bunkers.

"Which way did he go in?"

"Right through this way. He was just ahead of you when you came from
the barn."

"Oh, was he?" said Tony, much relieved.

The farmer had taken his wallet then as he passed through, and he was
satisfied i