he said something. Really, papa, I wish you wouldn't ask me."

"What nonsense! Of course it is your duty to tell me, Edith. It is right
that I should know how Neal stands with his class. What did the boy
say?"

"He spoke as if Neal were in some scrape, and he wished that he could
help him out."

"He is a friend of Neal's, then?"

"I don't know. He spoke very nicely of him, and really seemed to want to
help him; but Cynthia didn't believe that when I told her. She seemed to
think he was an enemy of Neal's. But then Cynthia can't bear him, you
know. She took one of her tremendous prejudices against Tony Bronson,
the way she often does, and she wouldn't believe that there was a bit of
good in him."

"But you liked him?"

"Yes, very much. I think he is conceited, but then so many boys are
that. As far as I could see he is a very nice fellow, and the Morgans
like him ever so much. The only people that I know of who don't like him
are Jack and Cynthia and Neal."

"I don't believe there is much doubt that Neal has been very wild all
the time he has been at St. Asaph's," observed Mr. Franklin. "This only
goes to prove it. Bronson was not in that set, evidently, as he was not
one of those who were suspended, and I have no doubt he is a very good
sort of fellow. It is a pity Neal doesn't see more of him."

They drew up at the post-office, and Mr. Franklin went in to get the
letters. He came out with quite a budget, and stood at the carriage
looking hastily over them.

"All of these are to go home," he said, giving a number to Edith. "Here
is one for me with the St. Asaph's postmark. I will see what it is."

He tore it open, and glanced at the signature. Then he looked up
quickly.

"What was that Bronson fellow's name, Edith?"

"Tony."

"Then this is from him. Odd we should just have been talking about him.
Humph!"

Mr. Franklin's face grew grave, then angry, as he read the letter.

"That boy will come to no good end," he muttered. "I don't know what we
are going to do with him."

Edith watched him curiously. She wished that her father would give her
the letter to read, but he did not. People were hurrying by to the
station, which was but a few steps from the post-office.

"You will miss your train, Franklin," said some one, tapping him on the
shoulder.

Mr. Franklin glanced at the clock in the station tower, found that he
had but half a minute, and with a hasty good-by to Edith, and strict
injunctions no